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The Ski Race

star 4.9

Tom was a ten-year-old boy. He learned to ski almost as soon as he learned to walk for his home was high up in the mountains. He enjoyed going down the snowy mountain side on skis. So last he went, that he looked almost like a bird as he flew past.

One day, when Tom was out skiing, he stopped to look around him. From where he was standing he could see the village below with its wooden houses. And people were moving about — small and far away — and putting red flags in the snow. They were getting the course ready for the ski races. Tom smiled. This was the most important day in his life. This afternoon at three o'clock the ski races were to begin. His name was down on the list for children under twelve. Oh, if only he could win! The village children were very fast. They always played and practiced skiing together every weekend. But Tom usually had to practice alone, for his sister was only a baby, and he often had to look after her, and besides his home was far from the village. But he was fast, too, and he knew that he could win. He wanted to win the ski race more than anything else in the world.

But no. There was one thing he wanted even more than that. He wanted to meet John Bell. John Bell was the champion ski runner in the country. How wonderful it would be to see him, to speak to him.

He imagined for a moment that he was the winner of the race. John Bell came up to him and said, “That was fine skiing, Tom.” If only such a thing really happened!

At dinner time Tom’s mother said, "You’ll go right after dinner, won’t you, Tom?"

“Yes, Mother.” His eyes shone; it was nearly time for the race at last.

"I am sorry I can’t come and watch you,” went on Mother, "but Father has fallen ill; I can’t leave him alone.”

"Yes, I am sorry, too."

“Never mind. You'll tell me all about it when you come back.”

“Do you think I shall win, Mother?”

“I shouldn't be surprised. You've practiced hard, and you are very fast. Why, one day you may become the champion ski runner in the country, like John Bell.”

“Oh, yes.”

Suddenly they heard a voice from upstairs. “Father is calling." said Tom. “Shall I go to him?"

"No. You finish your dinner.” Mother went out of the room. “Poor Father,” thought Tom. “He has been ill for so long. Who knows when he will do his work again.”

In the summer, Tom's father was a mountain guide, and in the winter he gave skiing lessons. He had other work too. He had to look after the hut near the mountain top, because his house was nearest to it.

The hut was good and strong, and its door was always unlocked so that any traveler could walk in at any time and stay there for the night. Travelers always found blankets, a lamp, a can of oil, and an oil stove” on which they could cook food. Tom’s father went up from time to time to see that everything was all right, and to take more oil to put into the can.

Suddenly, Mother came into the room again. “Oh, Tom," she said. “Someone will have lo take oil up to the hut. We have forgotten the hut. Skiers may come, cold and tired and hungry. But there is no oil to light the lamp or for the stove to cook food. Someone has to take oil up to the hut."

“It’s the ski race today,” said Tom.

“I know,” said Mother, and she looked so unhappy that Tom turned his eyes away.

“I can’t leave Father," said Mother softly.

“I'll go to the hut, Mother,” said Tom. “I know the way. I went there twice last summer with Father.”

“It’s harder in the winter, and there’s not time enough to get there and back today.”

“I can stay the night in the hut, and return home early in the morning.”

“You’ll miss the ski race,” said Mother.

“It doesn't matter," said Tom. “It doesn’t matter a bit.”

But of course it did matter, and Tom felt very sad.

That afternoon, just as the sun went down, Tom reached the hut. He was very tired. He opened the hut door, and as he went in, he heard voices. He heard a man say, “Oh well, it there is no oil we can't even make ourselves a cup of coffee. Bad luck, isn’t it?"

There were two men there. When they saw Tom, one of them said, “Hello, boy. You’ve come to a very poor hut. There is no oil in the place. Not a drop? But what are you doing here all alone?”

“I’ve brought the oil," said Tom.

In a very short time it was light and warm in the hut, and Tom and the two men were eating a fine supper. The men were so friendly and kind that soon Tom began to tell them all about himself. He told them that his father was ill and couldn’t come to the hut. He told them how he wanted to be a champion ski runner like John Bell when he grew older. He told them how he wanted to win the ski race. “And now I have missed it,” he ended sadly, "Well. I think you are a very brave boy.” said one of the men. “and I am proud to meet you."

“And you haven’t told us your name yet,” said the other. “What is it?”

"Tom."

“Mine is George," said the man.

“And mine is John,” said the other. Tom’s eyes opened wide as the Jump light shone on his new friend’s face. It was the face he knew so well. He had a photograph of it at home. It was the face of the champion ski runner in the country.

“John?” said Tom in wonder.

“John Bell,” said John with a smile.

So Tom slept the night in the hut with John and George. Early next day they got up and had breakfast. They made everything tidy and clean, ready for the next travelers who might pass that way. Then they closed the door.

“I have to go this way,” said Tom.

“We’ll come with you part of the way,” answered George.

“Can you?" asked Tom.

“Oh, yes,” said John. “Besides we want to see what your skiing is like."

Tom’s heart was full of happiness. He tried his best. So fast he went, that he looked almost like a bird as he flew past. But what did John Bell think of his skiing? Did he think it was good?

As Tom reached the end of the slope. John Bell came up with a smile of admiration on his face.

“That was fine skiing, Tom.” he said.

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