"Porter is crawling up!"
"Hurry up, Dave!" screamed Roger. "You can do it, old man! Go it!"
"He can't catch Gus Plum," came back from another student, but even as the lad spoke, Dave gave another spurt, and came up alongside of the bully.
"It's a neck-and-neck race!" was the shout.
The line was now less than twenty yards away and still Dave and Plum were side by side. The pace was terrific, and the country boy felt as if something must burst within him. But now he made another spurt, and shot ahead fully a yard—and then the line was crossed.
"Hurrah! Dave Porter wins the race!"
At once Dave was surrounded by his admirers, who shook hands with him, patted him on the back, and led him to a seat in the warm boathouse.
"It was great!" said Shadow, enthusiastically. "Simply great!"
"I congratulate you, Dave," put in Phil. "My! but that will make Plum feel sick all over."
"My skate came loose," said Nat Poole to the crowd on the ice. "If it hadn't been for that, I should have won."
"I got caught in a crack," said the bully.
"Poor excuses are worse than none," said Sam Day, and slipped away to join his friends. The race was the talk of the school for several days, and
