While the seniors lined up for form, Flip and the other intermediates who had signed up for the Long Race got on the funicular to go up to the starting point further up the mountain. Madame Perceval had taken Flip over the course of the race several times during the holidays so she was almost as familiar with it as the other girls who had been skiing it once a week with Fräulein Hauser. They were all tense as they lined up at the starting point. Kaatje van Leyden gave the signal and they were off. Flip felt a sense of wild exhilaration as she started down the mountain, and she knew that nothing else was like this. Flying in a plane could not give you this feeling of being the bird, of belief in your own personal wings. Before the race was half over it became evident that it was to be between Flip, Erna, and Esmée. Flip's mind seemed to be cut cleanly in half; one half was filled with pure pleasure at the skiing and the other with a set determination to win this race. The three of them kept very close together, first one, then another, taking the advantage. Then, as they had to go through a clump of trees, Erna took the lead and pushed ahead with Flip next and Esmée dropping well behind. Flip made a desperate effort and had just spurted ahead of Erna when she heard a cry, and, looking back, she saw Erna lying in the snow. She checked her speed, turned, and went back. As Erna saw her coming she called out, "Go on, Flip! Go on! Don't worry about me!" But she ended on a groan and Flip continued back up the mountainside. Esmée flashed by without even looking at Erna; and Flip, as she slowly made her way up the snow, thought, I've lost the race. But she knelt by Erna and said, "What happened?" "Caught the tip of my ski on a piece of ice," Erna gasped. Her face was very white and her lips were blue with pain and cold. "You shouldn't have come back." "Don't be silly," Flip said, and her voice sounded angry. "Is it your ankle?" "Yes. I think I've busted it or something." Flip unsnapped Erna's skis and took them off. Then she unlaced the boot of the injured ankle and gently pulled it off. "I don't think it's broken. I think it's a bad sprain." "What's up?" Kaatje van Leyden who had been skiing down the mountain side with them drew up beside them. "Erna's hurt her ankle," Flip said. "I think it's sprained." Now more of the racers came in sight, but Kaatje waved them on. "Esmée's won but we might as well see who comes in second and third." "Flip lost the race because of me," Erna told Kaatje. "She was way ahead of Esmée but when I fell she turned around and came back to me." "And Esmée went on?" Kaatje asked. "Well, it's a good thing you came back and got Erna's boot off, Philippa, or we'd have had an awful time. Her foot's swelling like anything. Hurt badly, Erna?" Erna, her teeth clenched, nodded.