f
circumstances; the four other runners were holding on in a way he did
not like. The cries of encouragement to him and to Heath were more
urgent this time; Bolton and Edwards and Morse had their supporters too.

Westby ran along the field beside Price, and Irving felt a moment's
indignation; was Westby taunting the plucky and exhausted small boy? And
then Irving saw that he was not, and at the same instant Barclay turned
to him and said,--

"Price is Westby's young cousin."

Irving stood near enough to hear Westby say, "Good work, Tom; you set
the pace just right; it'll kill Collingwood. Now drop out."

Price shook his head and kept on; Westby trotted beside him, saying
anxiously, "There's no use in your wearing yourself all out." But Price
continued at his determined, pounding trot.

"He's a plucky kid," said Barclay.

"Rather nice of Westby to take such an interest," said Irving.

Barclay nodded. From that point on it became a close and interesting
race, yet every now and then Irving's eyes strayed to the small figure
toiling farther and farther to the rear--but always toiling. Westby stood
on the edge of the green oval, not far away, and when on the third lap
Heath came by in the lead, ran with him a few moments and shouted advice
and encouragement in his ear; he had to shout, for all the Corinthians
were shouting for Heath now, and the Pythians were shouting just as
loudly for Collingwood, who, pocketed by the two other Corinthians,
Bolton and Edwards, was running fifteen yards behind. Morse, the only
Pythian to support Collingwood, was hopelessly out of it.

Westby left Heath and turned his eyes backward. His cousin came to the
turn, white-faced, and mouth hanging open; the crowd clapped the boy.
"Quit it, Tom!" cried Westby. "Quit it; there's no sense--" but Price
went pounding on. Westby stood looking after him with a worried frown,
and then because there was a sudden shout, he turned to look at the
others.

There, on the farther side of the field, Collingwood had at last
extricated himself from the pocket; he was running abreast of Bolton;
Edwards had fallen behind. Heath was spurting; Collingwood passed
Bolton, but in doing so did not lessen Heath's lead--a lead of fully
fifteen yards. So they came to the last turn, to the long straight-away
home-stretch; and the crowd clustered by the finish broke and ran up
alongside the track to meet them. Every one was yelling wildly--one name
or another--"Corin