“Of course that gives him the advantage,” said Percy Hall.  “Look at Luke’s old-fashioned wooden skates!  They would be dear at fifty cents!”

“It’s a pity Luke hasn’t a better pair,” said Harry Wright.  “I don’t think the contest is a fair one.  Luke ought to have an allowance of twenty rods, to make up for the difference in skates.”

“He wouldn’t accept it,” said Linton Tomkins, the son of a manufacturer in Groveton, who was an intimate friend of Luke, and preferred to associate with him, though Randolph had made advances toward intimacy, Linton being the only boy in the village whom he regarded as his social equal.  “I offered him my club skates, but he said he would take the chances with his own.”

Linton was the only boy who had a pair of skates equal to Randolph’s.  He, too, was a contestant, but, being three years younger than Luke and Randolph, had no expectation of rivaling them.

Randolph had his friends near him, administering the adulation he so much enjoyed.

“I have no doubt you’ll get the watch, Randolph,” said Sam Noble.  “You’re a better skater any day than Luke Larkin.”

“Of course you are!” chimed in Tom Harper.

“The young janitor doesn’t think so,” said Randolph, his lips curling.

“Oh, he’s conceited enough to think he can beat you, I make no doubt,” said Sam.

“On those old skates, too!  They look as if Adam might have used them when he was a boy!”

This sally of Tom’s created a laugh.

“His skates are old ones, to be sure,” said Randolph, who was quick-sighted enough to understand that any remark of this kind might dim the luster of his expected victory.  “His skates are old enough, but they are just as good for skating as mine.”

“They won’t win him the watch, though,” said Sam.

“I don’t care for the watch myself,” said Randolph, loftily. 
“I’ve got a silver one now, and am to have a gold one when
I’m eighteen.  But I want to show that I am the best skater. 
Besides, father has promised me ten dollars if I win.”

“I wish I had ten dollars,” said Sam, enviously.

He was the son of the storekeeper, and his father allowed him only ten cents a week pocket-money, so that ten dollars in his eyes was a colossal fortune.

“I have no doubt you would, Sam,” said Tom, joyously; “but you couldn’t be trusted with so much money.  You’d go down to New York and try to buy out A. T. Stewart.”

“Are you ready, boys?” asked Mr. Hooper.

Most of the boys responded promptly in the affirmative; but Luke, who had been tightening his straps, said quickly:  “I am not ready, Mr. Hooper.  My strap has broken!”

“Indeed, Luke, I am sorry to hear it,” said the teacher, approaching and examining the fracture.  “As matters stand, you can’t skate.”

Randolph’s eyes brightened.  Confident as he professed to feel, he knew that his chances of success would be greatly increased by Luke’s withdrawal from the list.