Already Schonberg was half way across to them, heading for where they
stood at the up-stream end of the snow-ice. Behind him, how far behind
it was difficult to determine, came Harry, a brown and gray spot in the
deepening twilight. Jack and Roy turned and followed the others slowly
back toward the finish. When next they looked around Schonberg was
almost up to them and Harry--

"Where the dickens is she?" cried Roy.

"There," answered Jack, pointing. "What's she up to? She can't be going
to try that weak ice!"

But plainly she was. Not one foot from the direct line between turning
point and finish did Harry swerve. Schonberg was well up-stream from
her, but no nearer the finish, for he had gone out of his way to avoid
the weak ice. Roy shouted a warning and Jack waved wildly, but Harry, if
she saw, paid no heed. Straight onward she came, her skates fairly
twinkling over the ice, her little body swaying from side to side. Then,
before any of the watchers could even turn back to head her off, she was
skimming over the white streaks of soft snow-ice.

Roy and Jack and one or two others sped downstream toward her. Roy
strove to remember what it was best to do when folks went through the
ice and wondered where there was a rope or a plank. Once his heart stood
still for an instant, for Harry had stumbled and nearly fallen. But she
found her pace again almost instantly and came on, skirting a black pool
of open water. She was gaining on Schonberg at every ring of her skates,
and that youth, who had now discovered her tactics, was making for the
finish with all his might. Before Roy or Jack had reached the margin of
the dangerous stretch Harry had left it behind her and was once more on
hard ice. As she swept past at a little distance she glanced up and
smiled triumphantly.

"Go on, Harry!" they cried in unison, and turned and sped after her.

[Illustration: "Schonberg made a last despairing effort when twenty feet
from the line."]

She had gained many yards over Schonberg and as their converging paths
brought them nearer and nearer together this gain became apparent. Roy
and Jack skated as hard as they could go, and, being untired, were
close up behind Harry when the finish line was a bare fifty feet away.
Almost beside them came Schonberg, his head down and every muscle tense
with his efforts to reach the line ahead of his adversary. But he was a
good six yards to the bad. Hammond and Ferry Hill filled the twilight