The trial heats in several of the events had already been run off, and in the middle of the floor a number of contestants4 were putting a canvas-covered twelve-pound shot with varying success when Stewart Earle, accompanied by Trevor Nesbitt, left the dressing-room, and pushing their way through the narrow aisles6 between the rows of chairs, at last reached the former’s father and mother, who, in company with a tall and slender boy of sixteen, occupied seats next to the improvised7 barrier that divided audience from running track.
“I want you to know Trevor Nesbitt,” said Stewart. “Nesbitt, my mother and father. And that little boy beyond there is Master Carl Gray.” Trevor shook hands with a small, middle-aged8 gentleman in sober black, who peered upward at him in a manner that suggested near-sightedness, and with a lady somewhat younger than her husband, whose plain but kind face and sweet voice at once won his heart. As Gray was quite beyond reach of his hand, he merely accorded that youth a smiling nod. Stewart was still talking.
“You remember, mother, I told you that Nesbitt was going to run in the two hundred and twenty yards, don’t you? Well, the funny part of it is that we ran a dead heat in the first trial! I guess I’m a goner already.” He ended with a smile that only partly concealed9 his uneasiness.
His mother smiled from him to Trevor.
“Then you two boys will run together?” she asked.
[44]
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Trevor. “There’s five of us left for the final.”
“That’s very nice,” she replied, “for if Stewart is beaten he will not feel so badly if you are the winner, will you, dear?”
Trevor muttered something about there being no danger of his winning, while Stewart answered gaily10: “But you’re leaving the other three chaps out of the game, mother; perhaps one of them will beat us both.”
“No fear,” said Carl Gray; “Dunlop’s a stiff, Wharton isn’t in your class, Stew5, and as for Milkam, well, I think you can beat him out all right at a hop11; so it’s between you and Nesbitt, and may the best man win.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. Earle, nodding his head approvingly. “If your friend is a better runner than you, Stewart, he should win, of course. When do you race?” He held a program up to his eyes and scowled12 in an endeavor to decipher the lines.
“In about twenty minutes, I guess. Let me see, father.” Stewart took the program. “‘Twenty-yard dash, junior; twenty-yard dash, senior; putting twelve-pound shot; running high jump; one-mile run; pole vault13; sixty-yard hurdle14; eight-hundred-and-eighty-yard run; two-hundred-and-twenty-yard dash; relay race, one mile, lower middle class versus15 junior class; relay race, one mile, senior class versus upper middle class.’ Well, you can’t tell by this,[45] I guess; they’ll just pull off the events when they feel like it.”
“All out for the eight hundred and eighty yards,” cried a voice across the building.
“There, see?” said Stewart. “That event’s down after the hurdles16; you can’t tell much by the program; you never can. I wish they’d call the two hundred and twenty now, though.”
“Getting nervous, Stew?” asked Carl Gray.
“A little, I guess. There they come for the half mile. Look, there’s Keeler of our class; he’s one of our relay team; isn’t he a peach?”
“A what, dear?” asked his mother.
“A—er—well, I mean isn’t he fine?” stammered17 Stewart, while Carl and Trevor exchanged grins.
“Is he? He looks from here dreadfully thin,” answered Mrs. Earle.
“That’s partly what makes him a good runner,” explained Stewart. “He’s all muscle, scarcely any weight to carry.”
“Well, dear, I do hope you won’t get to looking like that.”
“Humph, I should hope not.” This from Stewart’s father. The bunch of ten runners had left the mark, and had begun their long series of tours about the track, cheered from the gallery by their fellows. “Go it, Keeler!” shouted Stewart as a youth with ludicrously long legs[46] ambled18 past, almost the last of the group. A quick glance and a fleeting19 grin from a queer, good-humored, and very freckled20 face answered Stewart’s cry, and the runners swept by, their feet pounding loudly as they took the inclines at the turns. The shot putting was over and the victor, a dumpy-looking boy with the lower middle class colors across his shirt, had been clamorously hailed as he walked off with superb dignity, and the vaulting21 standards were being put in place while a group of half a dozen youths trod gingerly about looking very serious and important. Finally the bar was up, with a white handkerchief across it, and one after another of the contestants, with the long pole in their hands, ran lightly forward, rose till their white-clad bodies swung out from the staff like pennants22, and dropped across the bar.
“Why, how easily they do it!” cried Mrs. Earle admiringly, and Stewart’s father clapped his hands vigorously.
“Huh,” said Stewart, “that’s nothing; they haven’t begun yet; just wait until they get that bar up to about nine feet.”
“Nine feet! Why, how high is it now, dear?”
“’Bout seven foot eight, I should think; eh, Carl?”
“There it goes to the even eight,” answered Carl, as the judges raised the bar.
“Is—is there any danger of their falling, Carl,” asked Mrs. Earle.
[47]
“Not a bit, and if they do they’ll hit the mattress23. I say, Stew, look at Keeler.”
The runners had completed half the distance, and as they again swept by the freckled-faced and long-legged lower middle class boy left his place near the rear of the procession, and with an easy spurt24 placed himself in the first group. The three boys added their applause to that which thundered down from the far end of the gallery.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he won,” said Trevor. “He’s running easy and has lots more spurt left, to look at him. But, of course, Manning is a pretty tough proposition, I fancy.”
“Manning isn’t what he cracks himself up to be,” said Carl decidedly. “And I’ll just bet you that Keeler wins out easily.”
A bell clanged warningly, and the tumult25 in the gallery increased. “Last lap, fellows! Last lap!” “Go it, Freckles26!” “Brace27 up, Manning! Come on, come on!” But Manning couldn’t “come on” to any great extent, and the lower middle boys, leaning perilously28 over the edge of the gallery, fluttered their colors frantically29 and shouted incoherent advice, entreaty30, and triumph as Keeler, his long legs working like a well-lubricated machine, his freckled face overspread with an easy and confident smile, swept superbly by the exhausted31 Manning and two other runners and crossed the line, as Carl had predicted, an easy winner.
[48]
When the tumult had subsided32 to some extent the trial heats in the senior twenty-yard dash were begun, the track being diagonally across the floor, and bunch after bunch of white-clad youths raced like the wind toward the tape. The pole vaulting came to an end with a record-breaking accomplishment33 of nine feet two inches by a member of the upper middle class, and the running high jump began. Then, “All out for the two-twenty, and hurry up!” came the command from somewhere, and Stewart and Trevor struggled through the throng34 toward the dressing-room to throw aside their wraps.
A minute or two later five boys stood on their marks awaiting the report of the starter’s pistol. Trevor found himself by the side of Dunlop; then came Stewart, Milkam, and Wharton. There was a golden haze35 of floating dust in the air, and the faces of Stewart’s father and mother and of Carl Gray were indistinct across the building.
“Ready!”
“Get set!”
There was an intense silence about the starting-line, but from above came a deep sound of lowered voices, subdued36 laughter and the tramping of restless, excited feet.
“Bang!”
And ere the report had wholly died away the five runners were a quarter-way about the track on the first of the three laps constituting the two hundred and twenty yards.
As they passed under the left side of the gallery the[49] seniors leaned over in an endeavor to catch sight of them and urged their two heroes, Wharton and Milkam, with eager cries. Then the turn was made, and Trevor, glancing upward fleetingly37, saw a long row of faces peering down with open mouths from which came shouts of “Nesbitt! Nesbitt!” “Dunlop! Dunlop!” A long banner of upper middle class colors writhed38 serpent-like above him, and then he was under the gallery, running swiftly. Now and then he caught a blare of a merry two-step from the hard-worked band. He glanced aside. Stewart was even with him, his face anxious and somewhat pale. Wharton, Milkam, and Dunlop were strung out behind, but all well in the race.
Up in the gallery, on the left, sat Dick Hope among the seniors. Beside him were Williams and a stout39, red-faced youth whose real name was Todd, but who was more generally known as “Toad.” Dick watched the runners circle the end of the building.
“First lap’s done,” he said. “That roommate of mine, Nesbitt, seems to be something of a runner.”
“Sure,” answered Todd, “’Is ’Ighness is all right, if he is a bloody40 Englishman.”
“I’d rather be English than Dutch, Toad,” grinned Williams.
“Shut up, you; I’m no more Dutch than you are. Here they come! Brace up, Wharton!” and Todd leaned over the railing and waved his cap wildly in air.
“You might as well save your breath, I guess,” said[50] Dick. “Wharton’s out of it, and so’s Milkam. The race’s between Nesbitt and young Earle. And as we can’t win it, I hope Earle will. He’s a decent, plucky41 youngster; and—well, anything to beat upper middle, you know.”
“You’re not very loyal to your chum,” grinned Williams.
“He has no business being in the upper middle,” responded Dick calmly. “By Jove, look there!”
Across the gymnasium the runners were speeding down the back-stretch, Trevor and Stewart, side by side, leaving the other three farther and farther behind at every step. Wharton and Milkam were practically out of it; Dunlop was ten yards to the bad, but running strongly and apparently42 still capable of retrieving43 his lost ground. At the turn Trevor hugged the inside of the track and Stewart, smaller, lither, and speedier-looking, snuggled in close behind him. Dunlop, head back, a look of grim determination on his face, spurted44 until he had gained a position but a scant45 two yards behind Stewart.
“Good boy, Dunlop!” shouted Williams, while from across the building came a wild cry of joy from dozens of throats.
“I guess that’s his last spurt,” muttered Dick; “he’s showing the pace.”
And so it proved. The bell rang warningly, and the shouting from excited partisans46 increased in volume as the last lap commenced. Trevor, still ahead, increased his[51] speed. Stewart accepted the challenge promptly47, and Dunlop, after a brave but futile48 effort to keep his place, was left behind. Milkam and Wharton plodded49 along easily a full half lap in the rear until the latter, spying Dunlop’s predicament, suddenly spurted, and entered the lists with him in a contest for third place, leaving Milkam, bewildered, hopelessly last.
On the last lap.
At the second turn Trevor had given place to Stewart. When the two entered the back-stretch Trevor drew alongside his rival again, stayed there for an instant, and then drew ahead. The gymnasium was a babel of voices. The last lap was half run, and Trevor had put two yards of track between him and Stewart. Many yards behind Dunlop and Wharton were having a hot race of their own wholly unnoticed, for every eye followed the two youths whose flying feet were now pounding the incline at the third corner.
“’Is ’Ighness wins easily,” said Todd, shouting to make himself heard above the shrieks50 of his neighbors. Dick nodded. He was sorry to see Stewart beaten, but surprised to find himself suddenly experiencing a sensation of pride in the work of his roommate. After all, he had run a great race and deserved to win; and really, when he came to think about it, Nesbitt was handicapped by greater weight, and——
“Earle’s closing up!” cried Williams.
And so it was. With the contest almost over, the younger boy had forged ahead, and at the last turn secured[52] the inside of the track. Trevor was wobbling! Twice he swerved51 unsteadily, but as the home-stretch was reached appeared to pull himself together with an effort, and gallantly53 strove to pass Stewart. But the latter, running steadily52 and seemingly untired, not only held his own, but tacked54 another two yards onto his gain and breasted the tape an easy winner! And how lower middle did yell!
Dunlop and Wharton fought it out to the end side by side, the former securing third place by the smallest of margins55.
“Well, what do you think of that!” exclaimed Williams in deep disgust as soon as he could make himself heard. “Why, ’Is ’Ighness had the race in his pocket!”
“I think——” Dick hesitated.
“What do you think?” Dick smiled.
“I think Nesbitt was beaten,” he answered.
Williams viewed him in painful disgust.
“I think you’re nutty,” he growled56. “Don’t you suppose I can see when a man’s beaten?”
“Not always, I guess,” replied Dick enigmatically.
Whereupon Williams begged Todd to bathe Dick’s head, and in the fracas57 that followed the amazing result of the two-hundred-and-twenty-yard dash was for the time forgotten.
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1
inclemency
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| n.险恶，严酷 | |
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2
relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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3
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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4
contestants
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| n.竞争者，参赛者( contestant的名词复数 ) | |
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5
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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6
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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7
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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8
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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9
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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10
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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11
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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12
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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14
hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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15
versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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16
hurdles
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| n.障碍( hurdle的名词复数 )；跳栏；（供人或马跳跃的）栏架；跨栏赛 | |
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17
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
ambled
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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19
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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20
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
vaulting
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| n.（天花板或屋顶的）拱形结构 | |
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22
pennants
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| n.校旗( pennant的名词复数 )；锦标旗；长三角旗；信号旗 | |
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23
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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24
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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25
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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26
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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27
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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28
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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30
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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31
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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32
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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33
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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34
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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35
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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36
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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37
fleetingly
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| adv.飞快地，疾驰地 | |
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38
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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41
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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42
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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43
retrieving
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| n.检索（过程），取还v.取回( retrieve的现在分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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44
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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45
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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46
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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47
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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48
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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49
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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50
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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53
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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54
tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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55
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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56
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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57
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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