It was a very tired and rather sick Gerald that bumped home in the coach with his head on Arthur Thompson’s shoulder. He was thoroughly used up, and that was all there was to it, he told himself. If he hadn’t had to make that spurt in the last quarter of a mile he would, he was certain, have finished the race quite fresh. But the final demand on his powers had been almost too much for him. Not that he regretted it for an instant. He was mighty glad he had beat Loughan and so secured the contest for Yardley. In fact, he was secretly a little bit proud of himself, which emotion was, after all, quite excusable. It was his first real athletic triumph, and it had been won in the face of the whole school. He guessed that now they wouldn’t believe Hiltz’s lie about his having cheated in the trial run! He glanced down the length of the swaying coach to where Hiltz, looking rather the worse for his morning’s exertions, was sitting in the far corner. He didn’t[115] seem happy, Gerald thought, and for the first time since he had left Hiltz behind in the race the recollection of his victory over his rival brought no thrill. After all, to have defeated Hiltz was a small thing compared with having won the day for Yardley!

If Gerald was a little proud of himself, the school was even prouder. Every fellow who won a place in the event came in for his meed of praise and admiration from his fellows, but Gerald’s case was unique. As Joe Chambers said, he was “such a little tyke, you see!” And while all the others, Goodyear and Maury and Wagner and Sherwood and Thompson and Felder, had each helped to win the meet, it was Gerald, the youngest chap participating, who had at the last possible moment snatched it out of the fire. He was the real hero of the day, and so they had clustered about him and tried to shake his hand or thump him on the back and had cheered him over and over and for a minute or two had acted quite like crazy folks. Gerald had been only dimly aware of this, however, and the cheering had seemed to come from a long way off. It was only when the last man had finished and Arthur had half lifted him into the coach that he had regained his wandering faculties.

[116]

About him the fellows were talking merrily, discussing and explaining and questioning. Goodyear told how Scott had tried to make him take the lead at the third mile and how he had refused the honor, preferring to let the Broadwood crack choose the pace, and how Scott had grumbled at intervals all the rest of the way, accusing him of being a “quitter.”

“I was awfully surprised to see you go by,” said Gerald rather weakly to Arthur.

“I was surprised myself,” laughed Arthur. “Gee, I never had such a stitch in my side as I had to-day. I thought for awhile that I was surely down and out. But after I’d taken it easy for a bit it got a whole lot better and finally it went away altogether and I felt finer than I had since the start. If the race had been a mile or so longer I guess I could have finished way up front. Well, you certainly smeared Jake all right, didn’t you? When I came across you two it looked as though you’d sworn undying friendship and wouldn’t be parted for anything. You were putting your spikes down in his footsteps every time.”

“I had him beaten from the beginning,” said Gerald, “but he didn’t know it. I let him make the pace and all I had to do was to stay with him and let him worry.”

[117]

“And I guess he worried, judging from the way he’s looking now. Guess he hasn’t stopped yet. He’s probably wondering how he’s going to explain it, after his story about the trial. I think I’ll ask him, Gerald; bet you he will tell us he had a stitch in his side.”

“Please, I’d rather you didn’t,” begged Gerald. But Arthur either didn’t hear or didn’t heed.

“Say, Jake,” he called, “what happened to you to-day?”

Hiltz looked up scowlingly. “Had a pain,” he answered morosely. “I’d have finished ahead of you if I hadn’t.”

“Too bad,” said Arthur sympathetically while a quiet smile traveled up and down the coach. “I had one myself and know what it’s like. Anyone see Norcross? He was out of it almost from the start. Guess he wasn’t feeling very fit to-day.”

“He went home long ago,” said Felder. “I met him just as we made the turn down there. Told me he was all in, and looked it, too.”

“Too bad,” said Maury. “He’s a good runner when he’s in shape. Well, fellows, we must do this again next year, now that we’ve got started. Ryan says we ought to keep up the interest by holding a school run in t............