Warren sheaf., 1901-08-01

Why don't some Of you chaps tell
him nature didn't intend him to
ride skis 2"
"Why don't you tell >him?" retort-
ed listener, laughing.
"Waal, it amt my business, and
l get heaps Of fun out Of him, but
it's the truth, he amt got any
sense"
'tEe's entered for next week." said
one of the group.
'What for = the sweepstakes ?"
asked the storekeeper.
s'You betw was the reply. "He's
got some dope that's like creased
lightning, and you can't get the Sc
cret out of him with team of wild
horses. Gus Lindbcrg offered hin,
$40 for a cupful, but he wouldn't
look at him, and he's given it out
that he expects to VIM
"He'l WIN if the prize is for ty-
ing his legs into knots,'' laughed the
storekeeper. "He can't equal the
time he went to Miss Bates party
and slipped at the head of their
shoot. It was IS feet if it was a
foot, and he went sliding down like
log of redwood-a mile minute.
The front door was shut, and he
struck it feet first and landed right
in the party, his legs all in knots"
The ski races had been announced
for a week, and Long Barton had
entered. The grand prize was $3.50,
and he believed he could win it. But
on the morning of the event his
mother made some excuse for re-
naming home and was the only wo-
man in the hamlet not present. at
the races. She could not bear to
witness his defeat. The course was
on the slopes Of the sierras, splen-
did hill 1900 feet long, slippery as
glass, and of so sharp an angle that
a man could not ascend it, and once
on it with skis, it was a race like the
wind for nearly half a mile, then out
on to a gradual slope into the valley,
where the little village lay buried.
Every town or village in Plumas
and Sierra counties Of any preten-
sions had ski club, and many of
the members we're experts who had
performed wonderful feats, and for
this race the pick Of every club was
on hand at the top of the CLASSY
slide, while an admiring crowd Of
men, women and girls looked on.
The curious Norwegian snowshoes,
which were eight feet long, four
inches wide and half an inch thick,
were being given their final polish,
every contestant having his especial
''dope, which was his secret. Apart
from the others stood Long Barton
strapping on his skis, which had a
polish such as had never been seen
before. They cleaned in the sun
with dazzling brilliance. If "dope"
counted, there were those who be-
lieved that .sTanglefoot" would win.
The first signal was given, and the
men lined up, their long skis extend
ed forward, their bodies in various
positions. Each racer bore a long
staff, or starter. Some held It on
one side, some between their legs,
while others extended it ahead, and
as the word was given each man
gave mighty shove and projected
himself down the terrific slide. They
shot over the edge like wave Of
water over fall and seemed to rush
into space, then sank so rapidly
from view that they were gone be-
fore the excited onlookers realized
it. The speed increased rapidly, and
in 10 seconds was like that of fast
trotter, at Is it was equal to the
fastest train Of cars, and at 20 the
best men were holding their breath,
as it was impossible to breathe at
such speed, and the slightest swerve
would send them off the track. From
the side the scene was frightful
one, as it was hard to believe that
human beings could preserve their
position and not be dashed to pieces
under such extreme velocity. But
the line swept on, a few Of the racers
surging ahead. Half way down, and
four are in advance, two-thirds, and
one tall figure is leading.
1t is Long Barton. He is rushing
with the speed of light. The new
'dope" is carrying him on to victo-
ry. He knew it; his teeth were set;
his heart was in his mouth
goal was just ahead. Then some
thing happened. He swerved a
tenth of an inch; a piece Of ice
caught the channel of his polished
ski, perhaps, and the next second
the line Of racers rushed like the
wind by a figure rolling over and
over, its legs; arms and long skis