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Page 39
Suddenly a loud, derisive shout arose from the sophomores, and Will
glanced quickly up to discover its cause. In a moment the cause was
seen, when Peter John Schenck came running across the field toward the
place where Will and Foster were standing beside a few of their
classmates, who were also waiting for the game to begin.
The sight of Peter John was one that caused even Will and Foster to
smile, for their classmate was dressed as if he too was about to become
a contestant, and this was something neither of them had expected. It
was Peter John's garb, however, which had so greatly delighted the
beholders, for it was unlike anything to be seen upon the
field--"fearfully and wonderfully made," as Mott, who had joined them
for a moment, had expressed it. Evidently it was the result of Peter
John's own handiwork. His running trousers came to a place about halfway
between his knees and ankles before they stopped, and were fashioned of
coarse bagging or material very similar to it. He wore no running shoes,
but a pair of gray woolen socks, plainly "hand made," provided a
substitute. His "running shirt" was a calico blouse which had at one
time doubtless served him as a garment in which he had done the daily
chores upon his father's farm, but, as if to make matters still worse, a
broad band of ribbon, the colors of the class, was diagonally fastened
to his blouse in front, and Peter John's fierce shock of bright red
hair, uncut since he had entered Winthrop, served to set off the entire
picture he presented.
"Well, I guess we'll do 'em to-day, Will," exclaimed Peter John as he
approached the group of which his friend was a member.
"I guess we will," remarked Mott soberly.
"I'm going to do my prettiest," continued Peter John.
"If you let anybody once get ahead of you, Schenck," said Mott, "you'll
never catch him. If he sees you after him he'll run for his life."
"He'll have to!"
"What are you entered for?" inquired Mott, glancing at his program as he
spoke.
"The half-mile run."
"Ever do it before?"
"Once or twice."
"What time did you make?"
"I don't just recollect."
"Never mind. You'll make a new record to-day."
"That's what I want to do," replied Peter John, sublimely unconscious
that he was being made sport of by the sophomore.
The conversation was interrupted by the call, "All out for the
hundred-yard dash!" and, as Will was to run in the first heat, he drew
off his bath robe and tossing it to Foster, turned at once for the
starting-place. He had already been indulging in a few trials of
starting, but his feeling of confidence was by no means strong as he
glanced at those who were to be his competitors. There were four runners
in his heat, and one of them was Ogden, the sophomore of whose
reputation as a "sprinter" Will already was aware. The other two were
freshmen and therefore unknown quantities, but Will's chief interest was
in Ogden. He could see the knots of muscles in his arms and back and
legs, and his own feeling of confidence was in nowise strengthened by
the sight. Certainly Ogden was a muscular fellow, and a competitor as
dangerous as he was striking in his appearance.
The call, "On your marks," was given, and Will, with the other three,
advanced and took his place on the line. Every nerve in his body seemed
to be tingling with excitement and his heart was beating furiously.
"Get set!" called the starter, and then in a moment there followed the
sharp report of the pistol and the runners were speeding down the
course. Will felt that he had secured a good start, and but a few yards
had been covered when he realized that he and Ogden were running almost
side by side and had left the other two contestants behind them. Nor
were their relative positions changed as they sped on down the track
except that the distance between Will and Ogden and the two freshmen
behind them was steadily increased. Will was dimly aware as he drew near
the line that the entire sophomore body had risen and was noisily
calling to their classmate to increase his speed. There was silence from
the seats occupied by the freshman class, but Will was hardly mindful of
the lack of support. Glancing neither to the right nor the left, he
could almost instinctively feel that Ogden was a few inches in advance
of him and all his efforts were centered upon cutting down the
intervening distance.
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