d cheers rang out as the favored one went
past the various groups of supporters.

All during the race as the competitors circled the course, excitement
grew, until the last round was reached, when every one seemed to go mad.
Only three remained to compete now for the prize, the others having
given up.

But the shouts and cheers of the crowd seemed strangely far away to the
racers, as each rounded the last corner for the final stretch of about
one hundred yards. They were both spent, but will power kept them at it.
They were not breathing, they were tearing their lungs out in great
gulping efforts, and their hearts as well. Tense, determined,
inevitability seemed to rest upon them.

Louder roared the crowd, hoarser and deeper the cheers, closer and
closer the multitude surged to the winning post, yelling, shouting,
crying and gesticulating incoherently as the two men sprinted along with
great leaping strides, panting and almost breaking down under the
terrible strain of the mile race.

Nearer and nearer they came, still running level, with hardly an inch to
tell the difference; but in a pace like this Robert's greater strength
and hard training were bound to tell. Fifty yards to go, and they came
on like streaks of color, fleeting images of some fevered brain, and one
girl's smile each knew was waiting there at the far end.

The prize for which both were now striving was that for which men at all
times strive, which keeps the world young and sends the zest of creation
wandering through the blood--a pair of dancing eyes, lit by the happy
smile of love; for Mysie Maitland had smiled to them, each claiming the
smile for himself, just before the race started.

And now the last ounce of energy was called up, but the mine-owner's son
failed to respond. Dazed and stupid, his mind in a mad whirl, his legs
almost doubling under him, he found his powers weaken and his strength
desert him, and he staggered just as Robert was about to shoot past him;
but in staggering he planted his spiked shoe right upon Robert's foot,
and both men went down completely exhausted, Rundell unable to rise for
want of strength and Sinclair powerless because of his lacerated foot.

"Guid God! He's spiked him!" roared Andrew in a terrible rage. "The
dirty lump that he is--spiked him just when he was gaun to win, too!"

A howl of execration went up from Sinclair's supporters as he lay and
writhed in agony, while Rundell lay still except for the he