“Now then, boys, clap on all sail and come windjamming inter port ahead of the rest of them snow cruisers, or I won’t never speak to you again,” came the voice of Captain Jeb Hudgins from the crowd behind the starting line.
“He’s bet his gray Tomcat’s next litter of kittens on you,” came the voice of a joker.
“I’ll litter you if I get my hooks on yer, yer deck-swabbing lubber,” bellowed the captain angrily.
The boys gripped the sides of their sled. Rob, who was to steer, tautened a turn of the ropes about his hands.
Amid a roar from the crowd packed on both sides of the illuminated hill, the three sleds were off. Down the narrow lane, edged with human faces, they flew, Aquebogue, Eagles, and Jack Curtiss’ unnamed crew, neck and neck, so to speak. A great uproar greeted them, but of this the boys were oblivious. Each steersman bent his every effort to getting the most out of his speeding sled.
“Jack Curtiss leads!” came a shout, as that worthy’s sled slightly gained on the other two at a spot where the grade was not quite so steep as the remainder of the way.
“How-oooo!” came deep-throatedly from the Wolves’ supporters.
“Come on you!” hissed the Aquebogue steersman, swaying his body back and forth. But try as he would, he could not shake off the Eagles. On they flew; the finish line, with its close-packed rows of white faces, stared straight in front of them now.
Jack Curtiss was in the lead by a very slight margin; then came the Eagles, with the Wolves right on their rear runners. But, in an unlucky moment, Bill Bender glanced back and saw how close Rob and his chums were upon them. With a sly move, he thrust out his foot, intending to sway the Eagles’ sled off its course. Instead, however, the unexpected drag caused his own sled to swerve. Amid a cry from the crowd, it swung round before Jack Curtiss could stop it, and went plunging up a bank through the crowd, narrowly avoiding injuring several people.
In the meantime, the Eagles’ borrowed sled, with Aquebogue a close second, flashed across the roaring, yelling, horn-blowing finish line, amid a perfect bombardment of “Boom! Boom! Boom!” from the flashlight artists.
Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender, followed by their two cronies, came rushing up as a congratulatory crowd pressed about the cup winners.