pace, but Chub was too
wary. It could scarcely be called running now, for with less than a mile
to go it became a question with each one of them whether they could stay
on their feet long enough to finish and their pace was a slow jog that
was little like the springy gait with which they had started out.

There was no breath wasted now in talk. They cast quick looks at each
other, searching for signs of weakness and discouragement. It was every
man for himself, Pryor struggling along with drooping head for the glory
of the Middle Class, Jack resolved to win the honor for the First
Seniors, and Chub equally determined to gain it for the Second Seniors.
A quarter of a mile from the school, just as they turned into the Silver
Cove road, Pryor's time came. He faltered once, stumbled, and Chub
turning aside to avoid him, slowed down to a walk, his breath coming in
agonized gasps. Chub and Jack went on without a turn of the head, side
by side, their eyes glued doggedly on the red-tiled tower of the
gymnasium visible now above the tree-tops a few hundred yards away. Then
the road turned a bit and a group of waiting boys marked the corner of
the school grounds.

Chub looked at Jack and the latter shook his head with a wry twisted
smile. But when Chub threw his head back and strove to draw away from
him Jack responded gallantly and refused to own himself beaten. So they
had it nip and tuck down to the corner, pounding the hard road like cart
horses and yet making but slow work of it, while the audience shouted
them on, scattering away from the rail fence that they might have plenty
of room. And they needed it. Twice Chub strove to throw his leg across
the topmost bar and twice he failed. Jack, with set teeth, got over on
the second attempt, and when Chub came tumbling after him he had a good
six yards of lead. Ahead, at the gate across the field, stood Doctor and
Mrs Emery and Harry.

"Hurry! Hurry!" cried the latter, dancing excitedly about. "Oh, it's
Jack Rogers and Chub Eaton! Hurry, Jack! Hurry, Chub! Oh, _can't_ you
run faster?"

"Which do you want to win, my dear?" asked her mother smilingly. Harry
answered breathlessly without turning.

"Oh, I don't know! Both!"

Meanwhile across the gridiron Chub and Jack, accompanied by applauding
friends and partisans, were fighting it out gamely. Chub had almost made
up the distance between him and Jack when the track was reached. Across
the cinders they staggered, the gate and