He was; and not only ahead now, but leading by a good three yards. Every voice was raised in shouts of encouragement, and cries of “Hurry up, Billings!” “Come on, Nesbitt!” “You can beat him! Brace up!” “Bully for Hillton!” broke into the frosty air as the two racers, bearing down swiftly, almost silently, on the finish line, sped nearer and nearer. Twenty yards away Trevor threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder at his straining rival, and then, suddenly bending lower over the leaden-hued surface, fairly left the other standing and shot through the lane in the crowd and over the line a winner by ten long yards! [Illustration: A winner by ten yards.] And how Hillton howled! “Even old ‘Turkey’ couldn’t beat that!” exulted Carl. Trevor swung about near shore and skated leisurely back to where Billings, red-faced and panting, was explaining to French and the rest of the St. Eustace team how it happened. But his friends looked utterly bored at his narrative, and turned away one by one toward the landing steps. Trevor came to a stop a yard in front of the tall, freckle-faced youth, who paused in his explanation and regarded him angrily. The crowd hushed its chatter in delighted anticipation. Trevor thrust his hands under his sweater and regarded Billings with a wealth of genial condescension. “Any time you’d like to learn more about skating,” he remarked sweetly, “come up. I’m always at leisure Saturday afternoons.” Then he nodded amiably and skated away ere the outraged Billings could summon his scattered wits to the rescue of his equally scattered dignity. CHAPTER X BUYING AN ICE-YACHT “An ice-yacht,” observed Carl learnedly, “is the nearest approach at the present age to a flying-machine.” “And I never cared a bit about flying,” answered Dick, without enthusiasm. The two, with Trevor and Stewart Earle, were gathered close about the fireplace in Number 16 Masters. Two good hickory logs were crackling merrily, and, although owing to the fact that the steam-heating apparatus was evidently on a strike and their backs were constantly caressed by shivers, their knees and faces were radiantly warm; and that was sufficient comfort. A huge paper bag was perched on the table, and the quartet were busily munching big, rosy apples, while close to the ashes four more were sizzling and sputtering in the heat. They had started out with the intention of having a feast of roasted apples, but had found that the roasting process was too slow to meet the demands of their appetites, and so were keeping down the pangs of starvation in the interims by consuming the fruit as Nature had meant they should. “An ice-yacht,” continued Carl, undismayed, “can be put together very easily and cheaply. All you have to have is four pieces of timber and----”