The lads all scrambled to their seats on the rival bobs, to which they had been assigned. Roger found himself placed second from Adrian, and though this gave him a fine view of the road stretching before him, he would gladly have changed his position for one farther back. It looked a little too much like taking a ride on the front end of a comet. It did not take long for the three cargoes of human freight to be loaded. Adrian braced his feet against the cleats he had nailed on the first bob and grasped the steering-wheel firmly. Tom Baker did the same at his rear end, and, between them, came the eleven sturdy youngsters, all from Cardiff, save Roger, though he considered himself at least a temporary resident of that village now. On the other two bobs the arrangements were just the same, save that there was only one steersman on each, and twelve boys in all instead of thirteen. The significance of the so-called unlucky number was noted by some of the Lafayette crew. "Ain't you fellers Jonah enough without goin' out of your way to look for a hoodoo?" asked Jim Smather as he glanced at Adrian and laughed. "This will be the luckiest thirteen you ever saw," rejoined the Cardiff captain, and that was the only prediction of victory he allowed himself. "I s'pose ye all know th' conditions of th' race well 'nuff by this time," remarked the chief starter, Abe Crownheart. "Ye'll all git shoved at th' same time, 'n' th' bob that gits t' th' bottom a' th' hill fust wins, no matter how it gits thar, pervided it ain't upside down or downside up." There were nods of assent from the captains, and those detailed for the purpose pulled the three big sleds to within a short distance of the top of the hill. Adrian, having had the choice, had selected the position farthest to the right. Next to him was Lafayette, and at the extreme left the Onativia bob. "You starters are t' begin t' shove when ye hear th' pistol crack, 'n' not afore," cautioned Mr. Crownheart. "Anybody that tries t' git a false start so 's t' go ahead'll be fined half a minute headway. So be careful. Are ye all ready, captains?" "Yes," answered Adrian, shortly, the light of battle coming into his eyes. He meant to win! "All ready," announced Jim Smather. "Shove away!" called Ed Johnson. There was a moment of silence and hesitation. "One!" counted Mr. Crownheart, raising the revolver slowly. "Two!" and he extended his hand, holding the weapon high in the air. "Three! Crack!" The word and the report of the blank cartridge came together. There was a straining of backs and legs, a bending forward, and a mighty shove from the starters. They were as eager as colts tugging at the harness, for on the first shove or impetus depended much of the early speed of the bobs. The steel runners squeaked on the snow, the big sleds moved forward, slowly at first, but then more easily and quickly. Now they had reached the very brow of the hill and poised for an instant.