"Let's make a statue of Captain Putnam," said Fred, and this was done, the statue being nearly ten feet high. It must be confessed it was not a very good likeness, but it looked remarkably fierce with some straws for a moustache, a flat wooden stick for a sword, and an old army cap on the top of the head. When he saw it, Captain Putnam laughed as heartily as anybody. Old as he was getting, he never allowed himself to forget the time when he was a boy.
Some distance from the Hall was a fair-sized hill and this was used by the cadets for coasting. As soon as school was over that day the lads brought out their sleds and bobs, and soon the hill was filled with boys, their merry laughter ringing far and wide. The Rovers had a big bob and this was used by the three and also by several of their friends.
"I'll race you!" shouted Dick, who was in charge of the bob. He addressed another student named Peter Slade. Slade had a big bob and had been boasting that this could beat any other bob on the hill.
"All right," answered Slade. He was a lanky youth, rather lazy, and given to much boasting.
It was soon arranged that each bob should carry six boys, and Fred, Hans and Songbird went with the Rovers. The two bobs lined up side by side, and Larry Colby gave the word to go.
"We're off!" shouted Tom, giving a shove, and leaping on behind.
At first the two bobs kept side by side. The slide was in fine condition, and all the other cadets lined up on either side to watch the outcome of the race.
"Hurrah for the Rovers!"
"Hurrah for Peter Slade!"
"May the best bob win!" cried one student, enthusiastically.
"Here's luck to you, Tom!" shouted George Granbury, and threw a snowball that caught Tom in the neck.
"Thanks!" shouted Tom, shaking his fist. "I'll pay that back with interest when I get the chance."
Half of the course was soon covered and still the bobs kept side by side. But then the Rovers' bob began to drag behind.
"Hurrah, we are going to win!" cried one of the boys on the other bob.
"Said I could beat you!" yelled Peter Slade to Dick.
"The race isn't ended yet," flung back the eldest Rover boy.
On and on went the two bobs, and gradually that belonging to Peter Slade drew a full length ahead. Dick glanced back anxiously.
"Something seems to be catching under the runners," he said, "Look and see if everything is clear."
The boys behind looked, and then of a sudden Songbird let out a cry.
"It is Hans' tippet! Hans, go and put that tippet end around your neck and don't let it drag under the bob!"
The German youth was wearing an old-fashion tippet around his neck, the loose ends flying behind. One end had gotten under the bob runners and was scratching along in the snow.
"Vell I neffer!" cried Hans, and pulled on the tippet so vigorously that the long bob began to switch around sideways.
"Look out there!" sang out Sam. "Don't throw us off!"
"Wait, I'll loosen the tippet," came from Songbird, and guided the muffler free of the bob. Then Hans took up the ends and tied them around his waist.
The drag had caused the Rovers' bob to get two lengths behind the other, and Peter Slade and his companions felt certain of winning.
"You can't touch us, Dick Rover!" called Slade, triumphantly.
"Good-bye!" called another boy. "We'll tell those at the bottom of the hill that you are coming."
"Are we making better time?" questioned Tom, anxiously. "If we are not I'll get off and shove," he added, jokingly.
"You hold tight now!" yelled Dick, and an instant later the bob went down over a ridge of the hill. Free of the drag, it shot forth like an arrow from a bow, and soon began to crawl up to Peter Slade's turnout.
"The Rovers are crawling up!"
"Yes, but it's too late to win!"
"We've got to win!" called out Sam.
And then both bobs took another ridge and rushed on to the end of the course, less than a hundred yards away.
CHAPTER XXII
PELEG SNUGGERS' QUEER RIDE
The race had now reached its critical point and all of the cadets on the hill waited for the outcome with keen interest. The bob owned by Peter Slade was still two lengths in advance, and it looked very much as if Peter would be the victor.
But with the passing of the last ridge the Rovers' bob seemed to become endowed with new life. With no drag on the runners, it shot forward with a speed that surprised even Dick. Steadily it gained on the other bob, until, when the end of the course was but fifty yards away, the two were almost side by side.
"Let her out, Pete!" cried one of the boys on Slade's bob, but Peter could do no more.
"It's a tie race!" called several, but hardly had the words been spoken when the Rovers' bob shot ahead, and reached the end of the course a winner by twenty-five feet.
"Hurrah! the Rovers win!"
"I tell you what, you can't get ahead of Dick Rover and his crowd!"
Peter Slade was much chagrinned to have the victory snatched from him, and began to mutter something about the race not being a fair one.
"I agree with you, it was not fair," answered Sam. "Hans' tippet caught under our runners and held us up a good deal."
"If it hadn't been for that we would have won by three times the distance," added Tom.
"Humph!" muttered Peter Slade. "I guess you jumped off once and pushed."
"I did not," answered Tom, hotly.
"I think you did."
"And I say I didn't," and now Tom doubled up his fists.