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He had spoken mildly; he did not even emphasize the words “clumsy and stupid.” But the retort went home; the Pythians at the table,—of whom Blake was one,—chuckled; and Westby, with a deeper shade of crimson on his face and a sudden compression of his lips, lowered his eyes. Irving had triumphed, but after the first moment he felt surprisingly little satisfaction in his triumph.
They finished in that order, not more than a yard apart; and Irving rammed his revolver into his pocket and clapped his hands and cheered with the Corinthians. The Pythians were now two points ahead, and there remained only one event, the hundred yards. First place counted five points and second place two; in these games third place did not count.
But there were cups for prizes, and there was always much rivalry between the two athletic clubs, the Corinthians and Pythians, as to which could show the most winners. So for that day the football players rested from their practice; many of them in fact were entered in the sports—though, like Collingwood, without any special preparation.
There were only six contestants, and there were not many spectators; most of the boys preferred to stay on the football field, where there was more action; the second Pythians and second Corinthians were playing a match. But Irving had heard Westby talking at luncheon about the shoot and strolled over more from curiosity to see how he would acquit himself than for any other reason.
“They’ve given Heath only thirty yards over Lou Collingwood,” complained Westby. “I thought Lou wasn’t going to run, because of football; he hasn’t been practising,” said Carroll. “I know, but the Pythians have got hold of him, and Dennison’s persuaded him it’s his duty to run. And I guess he’s good enough without practice to win from scratch—giving that handicap!”
And Lou wanted to nail him for the Pythians, so we all pranced up to him, and I said, ‘Hello, new kid; what name, please?’—just like that; didn’t I, Mr. Upton?” “Yes,” said Irving grudgingly. He had an uneasy feeling that he was being made an object of general entertainment; certainly the eyes of all the boys at the table were fixed upon him smilingly. “What happened then?” asked the blunt Blake.
Westby stood on the edge of the green oval, not far away, and when on the third lap Heath came by in the lead, ran with him a few moments and shouted advice and encouragement in his ear; he had to shout, for all the Corinthians were shouting for Heath now, and the Pythians were shouting just as loudly for Collingwood, who, pocketed by the two other Corinthians, Bolton and Edwards, was running fifteen yards behind.
So they were spread out pretty well at the start, and consequently the danger of interference was minimized. The runners threw off their dressing gowns and took their places. Drake, Flack, Westby, and Mason lined up at scratch,—Westby having drawn the inside place and being flanked by the two Pythians. There was a moment’s pawing of the cinders, and settling down firmly on the spikes.
Heath was considered the strongest runner in the event for the Corinthians, and they urged him on with cries of “Heath! Heath!” as he made the turn. “You’ve got ’em, Lou!” shouted a group of Pythians the next moment as Collingwood passed. It was early in the race for any great demonstration of excitement. It was Price whom Irving watched with most sympathy.
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