his hand
from its resting-place, and waved it about at his side.

I did not like it. But it was too late now. Mr Jarman stood ready
with his pistol up, the noise of the field suddenly changed to silence,
and the two athletes, with arms out, stood straining on the line.

Off! It was a good start, and the pace was startling for a mile.
Tempest had the inside track. He seemed to have the advantage in
lightness of step, while Redwood's strength was more in length of
stride. The first of the four laps was run almost inch for inch.
Perhaps Tempest, thanks to his berth, had a foot to the good as they
entered on the second. Here our man forged ahead slowly, and gradually
drew to a clear lead. But we trembled as we saw it. Would he stay?
Apparently he ran as lightly as before, but Redwood, as he lay on at his
heels, seemed to be going even easier. However, the half-mile saw
Tempest three yards ahead and still going. Then, to our concern, we saw
Redwood's stride lengthen a little, and watched inch after inch of the
interval shrink, until at the end of the third lap there was scarcely
more difference than there had been at the end of the first. Yet our
man was still to the front.

And now it was almost difficult for us onlookers to breathe, for the tug
was at hand. The fourth lap had scarcely begun when a wild yell called
attention to the fact that Tempest was once more "putting it on." What
was still more satisfactory was that he was going as well as ever,
although in that respect so was Redwood. The gap opened again, the foot
grew to a yard, and the yard to half a dozen, and the half-dozen to-- At
last! It was but two hundred yards from home when Redwood's stride once
more lengthened out, and a new shout told us all that the chasm was once
more being filled up, inch by inch and foot by foot. Tempest heard the
shout and knew what it meant. He, _too_, lengthened his stride, and
seemed as if he was going to answer rush for rush. But our hearts stood
still and our tongues clave to the roofs of our mouths as we perceived
that it would not come off. He could barely keep up his present pace.
Would it see him through? Perhaps half the distance was passed, and
Redwood had only recovered a third of his lead. Then the yells broke
out. Every one wished he could lend his man an inch, or the hundredth
part of an inch. Redwood's rush increased, and the vanishing inches
struck panic into our philosophic breasts. Could