This Janzoon Kolp, you see, was--There, I cannot tell the story just now. The race is about to commence. Twenty girls are formed in a line. The music has ceased. A man whom we shall call the crier stands between the columns and the first judges' stand. He reads the rules in a loud voice:-- "_The girls and boys are to race in turn, until one girl and one boy have beaten twice. They are to start in a line from the united columns, skate to the flagstaff line, turn, and then come back to the starting-point; thus making a mile at each run._" A flag is waved from the judges' stand. Madame Van Gleck rises in her pavilion. She leans forward with a white handkerchief in her hand. When she drops it, a bugler is to give the signal for them to start. The handkerchief is fluttering to the ground. Hark! They are off! No. Back again. Their line was not true in passing the judges' stand. The signal is repeated. Off again. No mistake this time. Whew! how fast they go! The multitude is quiet for an instant, absorbed in eager, breathless watching. Cheers spring up along the line of spectators. Huzza! five girls are ahead. Who comes flying back from the boundary mark? We cannot tell. Something red, that is all. There is a blue spot flitting near it, and a dash of yellow nearer still. Spectators at this end of the line strain their eyes, and wish they had taken their post nearer the flagstaff. The wave of cheers is coming back again. Now we can see. Katrinka is ahead! She passes the Van Holp pavilion. The next is Madame Van Gleck's. That leaning figure gazing from it is a magnet. Hilda shoots past Katrinka, waving her hand to her mother as she passes. Two others are close now, whizzing on like arrows. What is that flash of red and gray? Hurrah, it is Gretel! She too waves her hand, but toward no gay pavilion. The crowd is cheering; but she hears only her father's voice, "Well done, little Gretel!" Soon Katrinka, with a quick merry laugh, shoots past Hilda. The girl in yellow is gaining now. She passes them all,--all except Gretel. The judges lean forward without seeming to lift their eyes from their watches. Cheer after cheer fills the air; the very columns seem rocking. Gretel has passed them. She has won. "GRETEL BRINKER, ONE MILE!" shouts the crier. The judges nod. They write something upon a tablet which each holds in his hand. While the girls are resting,--some crowding eagerly around our frightened little Gretel, some standing aside in high disdain,--the boys form in a line. Mynheer Van Gleck drops the handkerchief this time. The buglers give a vigorous blast. Off start the boys! Half-way already. Did ever you see the like!