was a dead silence.

"Go!" shouted the starter.

Away went the eight skaters, side by side each striking out bravely.
Fred was in the lead, with two Pornell boys a close second, while Tom
Rover was fourth.

"Go in, Tom, you must win!" sang out Dick excitedly.

"Hurrah for Tubby!" came from several others. "He's crawling up!"

"Go in, Gray!" came in a shout from some Pornell sympathizers. Gray was
one of the pair striving for second place. Now he shot ahead, and in a
second more was close upon Fred Garrison's heels.

The pace was truly terrific from the very start, and long before the
turn was gained De Long and Hollbrook dropped out, satisfied that they
could not win.

Gray, the leader of the Pornell contingent, was a tall, lanky, and
powerful fellow, and every stroke he took told well in his favor. The
turning point was hardly rounded when he began to crawl up to Fred, and
then he gradually passed him.

"Hurrah! Gray is ahead!" shouted his friends.

"Here is where Pornell wins the race!" added one enthusiastic
sympathizer.

Fred's pace had been too sharp from the very start, and now he slowly
but surely dropped back to second place, and then to third.

But then Tom Rover began to crawl up. He had held himself slightly in
reserve. Now he "let himself out." Whiz! whiz! went the polished pair of
steels under him, and soon Wardham, the fellow who had held second
place, was passed, dropping behind Fred, thus taking fourth place. Then
Tom came up on Gray's heels.

"Hurrah for Tom Rover!"

"Go it, Tom, don't let him beat you!"

"Go it Gray, Tom Rover is at your heels!"

Gray did not dare to look back, but at the latter cry he did his best to
increase his speed. So did Tom, and while the finishing line was still a
hundred yards distant he came up side by side with Gray.

"It's a tie!"

"No, Gray is a little ahead yet!"

"Go in, Gray, don't let him beat you!"

"Tom Rover to the front! Go it, Tom, for the glory of old Putnam Hall!"

A wild yelling broke out on every side. On and on went the two boys,
with Fred Garrison not two yards behind them. That the finish would be a
close one there was no question. The line was but a hundred feet away;
now but seventy-five; now but fifty. Still the leaders kept side by
side, neither gaining an inch. Surely it would be a tie. The yelling
increased until the noise was deafening.

And then of a sudden Tom Rover shot ahead. How it was done nobody knew,
and Tom hims