362 Hans Brinker

« PereR vAN Ho Lp, ONE MILE!”’ calls the crier.

The same buzz of excitement as before, while the judges
take notes, the same throbbing of music through the din; but
something is different. A little crowd presses close about some
object near the column. Carl has fallen. He is not hurt,
though somewhat stunned. If he were less sullen, he would
find more sympathy in these warm young hearts. As it is,
they forget him as soon as he is fairly on his feet again.

The girls are to skate their third mile.

How resolute the little maidens look as they stand ina line!
Some are solemn with a sense of responsibility ; some wear a
smile, half-bashful, half-provoked ; but one air of determination
pervades them all.

This third mile may decide the race. Still, if neither Gretel
nor Hilda win, there is yet a chance among the rest for the
silver skates.

Each girl feels sure that, this time, she will accomplish the
distance in one-half the time. How they stamp to try their
runners! How nervously they examine each strap! How
erect they stand at last, every eye upon Madame van Gleck!

The bugle thrills through them again. With quivering
eagerness they spring forward, bending, but in perfect balance.
Each flashing stroke seems longer than the last.

Now they are skimming off in the distance.

Again the eager straining of eyes; again the shouts and
cheering; again the thrill of excitement, as, after a few mo-
ments, four or five, in advance of the rest, come speeding back,
nearer, nearer, to the white columns.

Who is first? Not Rychie, Katrinka, Annie, nor Hilda,
nor the girl in yellow, but Gretel, — Gretel, the fleetest sprite
of a girl that ever skated. She was but playing in the earlier