Clem leaned over the barrier and viewed Jim’s shoes. “No, I guess not, but I think Mart’s skates will fit you. Drop in later and we’ll see. He doesn’t use them much.” “Maybe he wouldn’t like me to have them,” responded Jim doubtfully. “Anyway, I ain’t skated since last winter, Harland, and I guess I wouldn’t be much good. Much obliged to you, but maybe I’d better not.” “Well, if you change your mind--” Clem hurried away to try some shots at goal before the whistle blew again. Just before supper-time, however, Jim wandered into Number 15. He announced that he guessed he’d take part in those races if it was all right about the skates. “There’s a two-mile race down, I see, and I guess I’d like to try that.” “Two miles? Thought you’d been doing three-quarters,” said Clem, while Mart dug his skates out of the closet. “Yes, but sometimes I got licked, and I’ve got a sort of notion I can do better at a longer distance. Maybe I’ll try for the mile, too. I guess there’s a lot of pretty good skaters going into it, eh?” “Yes, I suppose so,” said Clem, “but you’ll have a good time. You don’t mind getting beaten, do you?” Jim frowned slightly. “Why, yes, I guess I do,” he replied. “Every fellow does, don’t he?” “Well, I meant to say you didn’t mind much. Of course no fellow wants to take a defeat, but he has to do it just the same sometimes, you know. And there’s a whole lot in taking it the right way.” “The right way?” inquired Jim. “Why, yes, Todd. Look here, are you joshing me? You know what I mean, confound you!” “Well, I don’t know as I do,” said Jim doubtfully. “I don’t get mad when I’m licked, if that’s what you mean. Leastways, I don’t let on I’m mad. But it don’t make me feel any too good to get beat!” “I suppose your trouble is that you’ve never been beaten often enough to get used to it, then,” answered Clem. “Getting mad doesn’t do any good, you crazy goof. You want to smile and make believe you like it.” “What for?” “Oh, for the love of Liberty,” wailed Clem, “take this fellow off me, Mart! He’s worse than a Philadelphia lawyer!” Mart’s return with the skates provided a diversion. They were a size too small, but after a long and admiring appraisal of them Jim declared that they would do. “I never saw a pair just like these before,” he confided admiringly. “What they made of, Gray?” “Aluminum, mostly. Light, aren’t they? Like them?” “Gosh, yes, but I don’t know if I can do much with them. They don’t weigh more’n a third what mine do. I’m going to try them, just the same. I’m much obliged to you.” “You’re welcome. Just see that you win a race with them. We’ll go down and root for you, Todd.” “I might win the two-mile race,” replied Jim, “if I get so I can use these right. I’ll try ’em to-morrow.”