meals were unthought
of. He literally plunged out of sight into his work, and as yet he had
never failed.

One reason for this uniform success lay in the fact that he was able
to define his limitations, and never attempted the impossible. He
was, indeed, poor; that is, relatively so. His earliest recollections
were associated with corn rows and grilling suns; which accounted for
the present cheerfulness with which he tackled any task, and for his
appetite for hard work. When tired, he would think of the weight of a
hoe in a boy's hand at six o'clock in the afternoon, and proceed with
renewed vigor.

Such was "Lord" Chester: product of work and solitude; a man who knew
more about the ideal than the real; a man who would never forget a
friend nor forgive an injury; who would fight to the bitter end and
die game--hero of "_the_" Marathon, whose exciting history is
impossible to avoid in Iowa City.

By nature, Chester was an athlete, and by way of exercise he was
accustomed to indulge in a few turns daily upon the cinder path. One
evening in early spring he was jogging along at a steady brisk pace,
when two men in training-suits caught up with him. They were puffing
when they fell in beside him. Presently they dropped behind, and one,
a tall important youth, of the name of Richards, called out:

"I say, me lud, aren't you going to clear the trail?"

Quick as a shot Chester halted and faced around.

"What's that?" he asked quietly.

The other two nearly bumped into him, but managed to come to a
standstill, before precipitating that catastrophe. They lurched back
upon their heels, nearly toppling backwards, too surprised for the
moment to speak. Chester did not stir.

"Jiminy crickets!" Richards' companion exclaimed in a moment. "You're
deuced sudden, Chester, I must say."

And Richards' manner promptly grew conciliatory.

"Old man," he said, smiling, "you really ought to train. You've got
form--by George, you have! Besides, you wouldn't have any opposition
to speak of, you know."

Richards was still smiling; but a smile, however warmly encouraged
from within, is apt to take cold in a frost. The casual glance with
which Chester took in the young man, from his light sprinting-pumps to
his eyes, may be accurately described as frigid. Not until he had held
the other's embarrassed look for an appreciable pause did he deign to
speak.

"There really ought to be," he said without emotion, "at least one man
in the f