ield. I think I shall train."

Thus it came about that "Lord" Chester decided to enter athletics.
Five minutes previously even the thought had not occurred to him; but
he wasn't the man to quail before a bluff.

The track management of this particular university was an oligarchy;
was governed by a few absolute individuals. Perhaps such a condition
is not as rare as might be supposed. However that may be, it was here
a case of being either "in" or "out." Chester was unpopular, and from
the first had been out.

There were only four entries for the running events, the same names
appearing in all; so he could not be kept from the field. But he well
knew that various ways existed by which favoritism could be shown, and
that these preferences, too trifling in themselves to warrant
complaint, might prove a serious handicap in a close contest. He knew
that, however honors might lie among the other entries, they would
hesitate at nothing to prevent him from taking a place. In fact,
Richards openly boasted that he would pocket "'is ludship" at the
finish.

So Chester shaped his plans accordingly. He had never aimed at the
impossible, nor did he now. He withdrew from all short-distance runs
and yard dashes, and concentrated his mind upon the Marathon--thus
dignified, although the faculty would permit nothing more arduous than
two miles.

In saying trained, everything is meant that the word can be made to
imply: the sort of hour in, hour out, to-the-limit-of-endurance
training which either makes or kills. A fortnight before Field Day
Chester was in perfect condition, and had his capabilities gauged to a
nicety. He was now entered only in the Marathon; they virtually had
forced him from the half-mile, and they should be made to pay the
penalty.

One day before the race Chester went to the bank and inquired the
amount of his balance. It was shown him: one hundred and six dollars
and some odd cents. He drew a cheque for the amount, and thrust the
bills into his pocket. From the bank he walked straight up Main Street
for three blocks, then turned in at a well-kept brick house.

"Mr. Richards in?" he asked of the servant-girl.

"Yes, sir. Right upstairs--second door to the left. He's got company
now."

The junior nevertheless resolutely mounted the stairs and knocked upon
the door. The noise inside resembled a pocket-edition of the Chicago
Board of Trade, so Chester hammered again, louder.

"Come!" some one yelled, and the