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Updated: May 21, 2025
I looked ahead. Across a ten-foot barren ran the quail, their crests cocked forward, their trim figures held close as a sprinter goes, rank after rank, their heads high in the alert manner of quail. The Captain sat down, jerked off the brake, and spoke to his horses. I sat down, too; mainly because I had to. The Invigorator leaped from hump to hump. Before those quail knew it we were among them.
Had the night watchman continued the chase they would have had Josh Owen then and there. But the watchman, knowing that he was a poor sprinter, and that Josh was a fast one, turned, just inside the gate, to rush to the telephone and notify the constable. So Josh, on his hands and knees, after he recovered from his first astonishment, found he had only Eph to fight.
In addition to this private trials are necessary in the presence of someone who is accustomed to timing races by the aid of a stop-watch a by no means easy task, considering that a slight particle of a second means so many yards, and the average speed working out at about 16 yards per second nearly twice as fast as the fastest pedestrian sprinter, and altogether beyond the power of the fleetest race-horse.
"I'll get a doctor, if you'll watch the old woman. I can get a horse at Styles' farm." "Do it, and hurry!" cried Raymond. "Take the best horse and bring the doctor at once. Tell him it is poison a powder in water. Offer him any amount of money " "I will!" Ostrello shouted back. He was running down the hill path with the swiftness of a college sprinter. In a moment the bushes hid him from sight.
Judson was a hundred yards down the tunnel, racing like a trained sprinter for the western exit, before he thought to ask himself why the third man was playing the madman before the locked door.
Nor had the Trapper been less dexterous, for no sooner had the sandy colored streak shot through the hole made by the hatchet of the man who had sledded him forty miles that he might present him to the Trapper as a contribution to the Christmas dinner, than the old man dropped himself on to the box, thereby effectually barring the exit of the other porcine sprinter.
And almost every day some poor fellow lost his head; for the fleetest-footed sprinter in all Greece was overtaken by Atalanta long before he could reach the river bank. But other young men kept coming and coming, and no sooner had one been put out of the way than another took his place. One day there came from a distant town a handsome, tall young man named Meilanion.
He held to it, almost splitting his throat, while the sprinter twinkled round third base and came home like a thunderbolt. Another inning passed, a confusion of hits, throws, runs, and plays to Ken, and then Worry was pounding him again. "Dig for the trainin'-house!" yelled Worry, mouth on his ear. "The students are crazy! They'll eat us alive! They're tearin' the bleachers down! Run for it, Peg!"
But it doesn't prove him mixed up in the murder mystery in any way." "No, sir, it don't. It's only made me sore on him and sore on my own account, too!" Fibsy grinned ruefully. "Me feet's that blistered and I'm lame all over!" "Poor boy! You see, he's a sprinter from 'way back. His stunts on that newspaper work prove he can take long walks without turning a hair."
Luce, turning to that young man, "you have the build and the lines of a good sprinter." "Thank you, sir," nodded Fred. "And yet your performance falls off. Your lung capacity ought to be all right from your appearance. What is the trouble? Honestly, have you been smoking any cigarettes?" "Not one," Fred declared promptly. Mr. Luce lifted the boy's right hand, scanning it.
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