Everyone seemed to forget that the freshman mile had not yet been skated.
It was called last on the list.

Just as the skaters were moving forward some one detected a figure hurrying down the slope over the snow.
"Here comes Dick Prescott!" "Is he going into the race after all ?" A lively burst of cheers greeted the freshman as he reached the edge of the ice.
Dick looked as cheery and as rosy as ever.

No onlooker could see that Prescott's late adventure had injured him in the least.
"Going to race, Dick ?" called some one.
"Surest thing," laughed the freshman, "if I can find my skates.
If not, I'm going to try to borrow a pair of the right size." "Here are your skates," called Laura Bentley, gliding forward over the ice.

"I picked them up for you, and I've been holding 'em ever since.
"That's what I call mighty good of you," glowed Dick.

"Thank you a thousand times." Dick sat down on a wooden box.