like field
hockey, and I know I'd like it on the ice."

"Come on, Dave!" shouted Ben, circling up on his skates, and doing a
"spread eagle."

"Come on where?"

"Get into the race! We want you, and Phil, and Roger, too."

"What race is that?"

"Mr. Dodsworth wants all the big boys in it. It's a race up the river
for a mile, and back to the boathouse. The winner gets a silver
lead-pencil sharpener."

"All right, I'm in that!" cried the shipowner's son. "I need a
sharpener."

"So do I," added Roger. "How about it, Dave?"

"I'll go in, although my skates are not as sharp as they might be."

A crowd had gathered to see the race, and in a few minutes the
contestants were lined up by the gymnastic teacher. The starters
numbered fourteen, and included Nat Poole, Dave, Roger, Phil, Shadow,
Ben, and Plum.

"All ready?" asked Mr. Dodsworth. "Then go!" And away went the long
line, the skates flashing brightly in the clear sunlight, and the
onlookers cheering, and uttering words of encouragement to their
favorites.

CHAPTER XXIV

A RACE ON SKATES

"Go it, everybody!"

"May the best skater win!"

"Don't try to skate too fast, Ben. Remember, the race is two miles
long!"

"Hello, there goes one fellow down!"

"It's Luke Watson. He has lost his skate."

The last report was correct, and as the skate could not be adjusted
without the loss of some time, Luke gave up, and watched the others.

Nat Poole was exceedingly anxious to win the race, and he had been
partly instrumental in getting up the contest. His new skates were of
the best, and it must be admitted that Nat was no mean skater.

Phil had good skates and so had Roger. Dave's skates were only fair, and
were very much in need of sharpening.

Away went Nat at top speed, soon drawing half a dozen yards ahead of his
competitors. Behind him came a student named Powers, and then followed
Ben, Roger, Phil, Dave, and the others.

"I don't think I can win!" sang out Dave to his chums. "These skates
slip too much. But I'll do my best."

"Come on, you slow-coaches!" cried Ben, merrily, and then he shot
forward until he was abreast of Nat. Seeing this, the money-lender's son
put on an extra burst of speed, and went ahead again.

"Say, Nat Poole is certainly skating well!" cried one of the onlookers.
"He'll make a record if he keeps it up."

"I don't think he can keep it up," answered another.

In a very few minutes the turning point was gained, and