the largest sweep around, and this made him lose about a yard.
"Plum is ahead!"
"Yes, but Nat Poole is a close second!"
Down the homestretch came the three skaters, the steel runners grinding into the glassy surface more furiously than ever. The pace was a terrific one, and Poole was beginning to lose his wind.
"See, Dave Porter is creeping up!"
It was true, and at the same time Poole began to lose his place beside Gus Plum. The aristocratic youth was now almost winded, while both the bully and Dave were comparatively fresh. Inch by inch the country boy drew forward, until he and Poole were abreast.
"Poole and Porter are tied!"
There now remained but two hundred yards more, and Gus Plum put on an extra spurt which carried him still further in the lead.
"It's Plum's race!"
"With Porter as second!"
It was true that Dave was now ahead of Nat Poole, who, as soon as he was out-distanced, gave up completely. Dave saw that the bully was at least five yards ahead of him. Could he close in on such a lead?
"I must!" he told himself, and shut his teeth hard. He bent forward for another spurt, and like a flash he was almost on Plum's heels.
