A DESPERATE RACE
"Well, boys, take your places," called the starting-judge to the three crews.
The lads all scrambled to their seats on the rival bobs, to which they had been assigned. Roger found himself placed second from Adrian, and though this gave him a fine view of the road stretching before him, he would gladly have changed his position for one farther back. It looked a little too much like taking a ride on the front end of a comet.
It did not take long for the three cargoes of human freight to be loaded. Adrian braced his feet against the cleats he had nailed on the first bob and grasped the steering-wheel firmly. Tom Baker did the same at his rear end, and, between them, came the eleven sturdy youngsters, all from Cardiff, save Roger, though he considered himself at least a temporary resident of that village now.
On the other two bobs the arrangements were just the same, save that there was only one steersman on each, and twelve boys in all instead of thirteen. The significance of the so-called unlucky number was noted by some of the Lafayette crew.
"Ain't you fellers Jonah enough without goin' out of your way to look for a hoodoo?" asked Jim Smather as he glanced at Adrian and laughed.
"This will be the luckiest thirteen you ever saw," rejoined the Cardiff captain, and that was the only prediction of victory he allowed himself.
"I s'pose ye all know th' conditions of th' race well 'nuff by this time," remarked the chief starter, Abe Crownheart. "Ye'll all git shoved at th' same time, 'n' th' bob that gits t' th' bottom a' th' hill fust wins, no matter how it gits thar, pervided it ain't upside down or downside up."
There were nods of assent from the captains, and those detailed for the purpose pulled the three big sleds to within a short distance of the top of the hill. Adrian, having had the choice, had selected the position farthest to the right. Next to him was Lafayette, and at the extreme left the Onativia bob.
"You starters are t' begin t' shove when ye hear th' pistol crack, 'n' not afore," cautioned Mr. Crownheart. "Anybody that tries t' git a false start so 's t' go ahead'll be fined half a minute headway. So be careful. Are ye all ready, captains?"
"Yes," answered Adrian, shortly, the light of battle coming into his eyes. He meant to win!
"All ready," announced Jim Smather.
"Shove away!" called Ed Johnson.
There was a moment of silence and hesitation.
"One!" counted Mr. Crownheart, raising the revolver slowly.
"Two!" and he extended his hand, holding the weapon high in the air.
"Three! Crack!"
The word and the report of the blank cartridge came together. There was a straining of backs and legs, a bending forward, and a mighty shove from the starters. They were as eager as colts tugging at the harness, for on the first shove or impetus depended much of the early speed of the bobs.
The steel runners squeaked on the snow, the big sleds moved forward, slowly at first, but then more easily and quickly. Now they had reached the very brow of the hill and poised for an instant.
The next second they started down the slope, with a whizz and plunge, amid a roar of cheers.
It was a perfect beginning, and the sharp points of the runners of the three foremost sleds of the bobs were almost in a line. It was to be a fair race. From one single cheer at the successful start the shouts broke up into cries for the different village crews, each one doing honor to his native town. Anxiously did the crowd watch the sleds shooting down the hill. In a few minutes those who had sleighs would coast down also, to find out how the race ended.
The rival bobs were skimming along like birds. At first Roger could distinguish nothing, for a mist came into his eyes, caused by the rushing wind that surged past him. Then he began to see more clearly. He glanced across to the left and was surprised to see no sign of the other sleds. Could they have passed the Cardiff boys? His heart gave a mighty thump at this fear. Then he was reassured, as he heard a bumping and scraping behind him and saw the other two bobs plunge into the line of his vision. They had hung back a little, owing to an unevenness in the road.
The three racers were once more in line and were gathering speed with every foot they swayed forward. That the Cardiff boys had a good chance was early seen as they noted their sled fairly lift itself from the ground under the momentum which increased each second. Roger held on tightly for fear of being pitched off. The wind was whistling loudly in his ears, and his face was bitten by the cold. He had never ridden so fast in his life before.
Lafayette hill consisted of a series of little slopes and ascents, with small level stretches in between. The road curved in and out, now to the left, now to the right, and every once in a while would come a "thank-ye-ma'am." Over these bumps the bob flew, and when it came down, after taking the leap, it jolted every member of the Cardiff crew.
The pace was comparatively slow for the first quarter of a mile. Then the hill, which had not curved yet, became steeper. When the bobs reached this point the speed really became very swift, and the heavy sleds seemed to merely glide over the frozen ice and snow.
It was now a race in earnest, with the three contesting crews on even terms. They were about ten feet apart from side to side. The captains, with tense muscles, were guiding their easily swerved bobs, their eyes fastened on the slope before them.
Up to this time there had been no use for the stern wheel on the Cardiff sled, Tom Baker merely holding the rear bob rigid with it and keeping it straight in place, while Adrian did all the guiding necessary, which so far had been little, as the hill was without a turn. The wind was so strong, as the bobs skimmed through it, that talking was hardly possible. If a boy opened his mouth, not thinking, he was liable to find himself gasping for breath.
From somewhere behind him Roger heard an exclamation coming from a member of the Cardiff crew. He turned his head and was startled to see that instead of the Lafayette and Onativia sleds being in line with him, both bobs were now ahead of Cardiff, the Lafayette boys being half a length in advance and the other a quarter. It began to look as though the happenings of past years were to be repeated and Cardiff beaten. But Adrian showed no evidence of fear that he might be defeated again. Indeed he smiled a bit as he noted the two other bobs leaving him behind. He kept on smiling as they drew ahead, urged on by greater weight, better runners, or a smoother condition of the snowy roadbed.
The first turn of the hill was now reached and the three bobs took it at a speed that caused them to careen to one side and skim along on single runners for a time, while the boys momentarily feared an upset.
The big sleds righted, however, and whizzed along, covering a half mile in about two minutes, and thus being about a quarter way over the course.
After the first turn of the road the Cardiff sled caught up somewhat on its competitors, so that when the second curve in the hill came the three bobs were almost in line again. Thus seesawing, one losing and another gaining a slight advantage, a fourth quarter mile was passed in quicker speed, leaving about half the two-mile journey to finish.
The contestants were now approaching the biggest turn in the hill, a long swing to the left, around a very steep part, the most dangerous place in the race, and one that all the captains dreaded. They gripped the steering-wheels more strongly, and every member of the crews clung to their seats and braced their feet.
Once again did the Cardiff sled seem to lag behind, and its crew noted with dismay that the two other coasters had passed them. As they were about to round the turn Adrian's bob was two lengths in the rear, and his comrades feared the race was lost to them, as there was little chance of catching up, once the Lafayette and Onativia sleds began to whizz down the steep incline.
Then something unexpected happened,—something that made Roger and the other members of the Cardiff crew catch their breaths—something that Adrian had planned and had been waiting anxiously for.
Just for one brief instant Roger noted that the turn of the road now hid the other two sleds. Had the road kept straight on, instead of curving to the left as it did, it would have crossed a wide field, and then joined itself, so to speak, farther on. It was as if the curve was a big bent bow, and the road, if continued straight, would be represented by the bowstring. Though there was a path which cut off the curve and shortened the road for pedestrians, it was considered too steep and risky for teams, hence the curve. And it was down this incline, this cut-off, that Adrian proposed to guide his sled.
By so doing he would save a quarter of a mile, and if all went well he would come out into the main road again ahead of his rivals. But the way was dangerous, inasmuch as at the end it was necessary to make a sudden turn to the left to avoid a huge rock and to get back into the main thoroughfare.
With a whizz and a scraping of snow and ice the Cardiff sled left the beaten road and plunged into the almost unbroken snow of the fields. A fence lined the highway, but when Adrian steered the bob toward it the bars were down. The captain had seen to that. Before Roger and the other boys knew what was happening, they found themselves skimming across the field that stretched white and untrampled before them. Some thought it was an accident and cried out in alarm, but a shout from Adrian reassured every one.
"The Cardiff sled left the beaten road, and plunged into the almost unbroken snow of the fields"
The way was full of perils, for the field through which the straight path lay was not as level as the road. Fortunately the snow had melted and frozen again very hard, so that the surface was almost like a sheet of ice.
My, but how that sled did glide along! The runners rang in the cold air as they rubbed along the snow and ice, which flew up on both sides of the boys like a miniature storm of white flakes. On and on went the Cardiff bob, like a big bird skimming along. In less than a minute it had approached the dangerous turn, around which it was necessary to swing to get back into the road. Could Adrian make it?
"All ready, Tom!" sung out Adrian. "Look out for the turn!" and Tom Baker tightened his grip on the rear steering-wheel.
"I'm ready," he called back.
The next instant they were at the curve. If the bob, heavy with the load of boys, kept straight on, it would hit the huge rock with a terrible crash. Could Adrian pass it safely?
It was a second of intense expectation on the part of the crew. Then they felt a sudden swerve, and instinctively leaned to the left, to bring all the weight possible on the runners on that side, to keep them from skidding. There was a shrill screeching and squeaking of the snow and a shower of white flakes. Adrian tugged with all his might at his wheel. And then the wisdom and the great necessity of having the rear sled movable and steerable was apparent. For, had it not been, the sudden and short sweep could never have been made.
A second after Adrian twisted his wheel Tom Baker did likewise. The rear end of the bob swung as if a giant hand had sent it around. It almost grazed the big boulder, missing it by a few inches. The sled hung and quivered for an instant on the very edge of the turn, and suddenly, with a motion that almost upset it, the bob righted and swept into the main road.
The great feat had been accomplished safely, and Adrian felt his heart thrill.
Once fairly in the road, every one looked for a sign of the other sleds. Was the Cardiff bob too late? Was their racer ahead or behind the others? These were questions that tugged anxiously at the hearts of the boys. But there was little time for Adrian to think of this, for the control of the bob, moving like a locomotive, needed all his attention, and Tom Baker's as well. There was another sharp turn to make, and it took all of the two steersmen's strength to twist the wheels. Then the sled shot into a straight incline, the last quarter mile of the course.
As the Cardiff sled was speeding on there came a shout of dismay from behind it, for the Lafayette racer, and that of Onativia, on a line with it, whizzed around the curve. Well might they shout, for they were distanced, and with no chance to regain the intervening ground which Adrian had so daringly and so skilfully covered.
In another minute the race was over. The Cardiff sled glided down the last declivity, and into the main street of the town, through the crowd of admiring people who had gathered. Adrian steered to a patch of ashes that had been sprinkled to retard the speed of the bobs at the end. As the Cardiff boys leaped from their still slowly moving racer, to be greeted with hearty hand clasps and shouts of victory, the Lafayette sled came along, with that of Onativia behind it. It was a clean-cut, decisive victory for Cardiff, and even the vanquished ones had to admit it. Adrian's plan had worked out exactly as he hoped, and had saved the day; and to him the credit of the race was due, as all Cardiff joyfully admitted.
For a few minutes Adrian, Roger, and the other members of the crew could not break away from the admiring crowd.
"Three cheers for the Cardiff boys!" called some one, and they were given with a will.
"And three cheers for Adrian Kimball!" shouted Captain Smather of the Lafayette bob.
The shouts rang out louder than before, and Adrian got even redder in the face than the biting wind had made him.
It was a great day for Cardiff.