we can't have everything in this world," was the philosophic reply from the other Rover boy.
It could be seen that the race had now narrowed down to the five who were in the lead. Of these, Spouter Powell and Dan Soppinger were less than two feet apart, while only a yard to the rear came Jack, Randy and Walt Baxter.
"Go it, Randy!" sang out Andy, as he dropped still further behind. "Go it! I know you can win!"
"Keep it up, Jack!" yelled Fred, who, being the smallest of the four Rovers, found it impossible to keep up the pace. "Don't let Spouter and Dan hold you back!"
There were numerous cries of encouragement for all of the skaters as they swept forward toward the starting point. Here a line had been drawn on the ice, and the cadets stood at either end, some with their watches in their hands to time the winners.
"I'll bet Dan Soppinger wins!" cried one of the cadets. "He's the best skater on the lake."
"Well, Spouter Powell is a good skater, too," returned another.
"Huh! what's the matter with the Rover boys?" burst out a third cadet, round-faced and remarkably fat—so fat, in fact, that he had not dreamed of participating in the contest.
"I don't know much about how they can skate," was the reply. "They weren't here last winter, you remember."
"Yes, I know that," answered Fatty Hendry.
"Here they come!"
By this time the skaters were half way on the return from the blasted pine. Spouter Powell and Dan Soppinger were still in the lead, but Walt Baxter was crawling up steadily, while Jack and Randy were close behind.
"Say, this is going to be a neck-and-neck race!" cried one of the cadets, Ned Lowe by name. He had wanted to race himself, but knew that his skates were too dull for that purpose.
"Stand back! Give them plenty of room!" exclaimed Professor Brice, and he took measures to clear the cadets away from the finishing line.
Quite a crowd had assembled to witness the contest, not only cadets, but also some folks from the neighboring town of Haven Point, and also a number of young ladies from Clearwater Hall, a seminary located some distance away.
The skaters had still a distance of several hundred yards to cover when it was seen that Spouter Powell was gradually falling behind. Then Jack Rover forged forward, followed by his Cousin Randy.
"The Rovers are crawling up!"
"See, Jack Rover and his Cousin Randy and Dan Soppinger and Walt Baxter are all in a line!"
"This certainly is one close race!"
The excitement increased as the racers drew closer to the finishing line. Walt Baxter was panting painfully, showing that he had used up almost every ounce of his strength.
"Oh, dear! I do hope the Rovers come in ahead," whispered one girl skater to another. She was a tall girl, remarkably good looking and dressed in a suit of brown, with furs.
"So do I hope the Rover boys win, Ruth," answered her girl companion, "now that my Cousin Dick has fallen behind."
"It's too bad, May, that your Cousin Dick couldn't have kept up," answered Ruth Stevenson.
Closer and closer to the finishing line crept the four leading skaters, Jack and Randy in the middle, with Dan Soppinger on their left and Walt Baxter on their right. Now Spouter Powell had fallen back to the second group of racers.
"Here they come!"
"It's Dan Soppinger's race!"
"Not much! Here comes Walt Baxter! Gee, see him strike out!"
"It's the Rovers who are coming to the front!" exclaimed Ned Lowe.
"I knew they couldn't hold those Rover boys back," was Frank Newberry's comment. "Now then, boys, for a final dash!" he shouted.
All four of the leading contestants were bending forward and striking out as powerfully as possible, their arms swinging from side to side like pendulums and their skates ringing clearly on the smooth ice.
For an instant all were in a line, then, by a tremendous effort, Walter Baxter forged a foot ahead. But almost instantly Dan Soppinger overtook the other cadet. An instant later Randy Rover came up beside the others, followed by his Cousin Jack.
The finishing line was now less than fifty yards away, and the crowd was yelling all sorts of words of encouragement and cheering wildly, even the girls and older folks present being much excited. Then, of a sudden, an exclamation of wonder rent the air.
"Look at that, will you? Did you ever see such striking out in your life?"
"He's coming forward like a cannon ball!"
These exclamations had been brought forth by the sudden change of tactics on the part of Jack Rover. Coming back from the blasted pine he had managed to hang close to his opponents, but without using up all his reserve force. Now he let out "for all he was worth," as he afterwards declared, and, with strokes that could hardly be seen for their rapidity, he forged in front of Soppinger and Baxter.
"It's Jack Rover's race!"
"Look! Look! Here comes his Cousin Randy!" yelled Ned Lowe.
"No use in talking—you can't hold those Rover boys back," was Fatty Hendry's comment.
What the cadets had said was true. Following the extraordinary spurt made by Jack, Randy let himself out, and in a twinkling had passed Baxter. Then he found himself neck-and-neck with Dan Soppinger, who was struggling with might and main to catch up to Jack, just two feet ahead.
"Make room for the winners!"
"Jack Rover wins the race!"
"Yes, and Randy Rover is second!"
"Who takes third place?"
"Soppinger, I guess."
"No, I think Walt Baxter was a little ahead of him."
"Nonsense! It was a tie between them."
"Three cheers for the Rover boys!" shouted Ned Lowe, and many cadets joined in the cheering.
Jack and Randy were quickly surrounded by many of their chums and congratulated on their success.
"It was a tie race between Soppinger and Baxter," announced Professor Brice. "And that being so, I will give each of them a third prize," and with this those two contestants had to be contented.
"You made that race in record time, Jack," announced Gif Garrison. "It is better time by twelve seconds than was ever made before on this lake."
"Well, where do I come in?" demanded Randy.
"You broke the record by ten seconds," was the reply. "And believe me, that's some stunt!"
"I guess I was beaten fairly," announced Dan Soppinger, a little ruefully; "so
