The Press., 1916-07-27

strong. You could go another now and
 not feel 1t, and Hughes is still blowing | hard'
 the mood for postmortems. Clearly
 the coach hadn't seen Hughes foul him on the turn.
 Maybe she had seen! That helped some. It was the sole shred of con. | solation upon which he could build new hopes.
 The coach laid a hand on his shoul | der.
 "That will do. Stick to it, Skeeter | You'll put a kink in somebody's high gear yet"
 phy and gives her the medal?" inquir- ed Skeeter bluntly, hardly conscious of speaking aloud his inmost thoughts. | The coach smiled. "Who is her P he asked.
 Skeeter grew pink even to his neck and ears.
 "Hu-Hughes," he stammered. He's he's my rival"
 The coach was still at sea, but prov | ed himself a human being by saying after a pause:
 Hughes will hardly win; he's''- ''Too much like hunk of cheese, assisted Skeeter.
 Skeeter throughout the remaining days of the week was unable to shake | off a nagging, insistent sense of disap- pointment. Could he have beaten Hughes in the trial heat if he had known what the coach had told him before the race? Could he have beat en if Hughes had played fair? Skeeter knew that he could. To youth of seventeen all things are possible. Perhaps Skeeter's disappointment would have been less had he known, as the coach knew, that Hughes would not last long as runner, because he refused to train properly. Nor did Skeeter realize the benefits of his own self denials and sacrifices for the sake of athletics. When Saturday came Skeeter's tou- sled head was one of the thousands that rose in an undulating mass on every side of the vast amphitheater surround ing the track.
 
 made Skeeters eyes hurt. It was worse than trying to watch a three ringed circus.
 Leather lunged, brass throated youths swarmed along the course, shouting and yelling; scores of scanti ly clad runners scurried about with numbers pinned to their backs, and Skeeters trained eye inspected dozens and dozens of pretty girls.
 Excitement and confusion were in the atmosphere. The sonorous voice If the megaphoned clerk echoed and vibrated through the hall. Occasion ally the starters pistol spoke above he din of the cheering.
 Then came the hush, the batter of running shoes on the resined floor and the Lreath!ess instant at the finish. In only twinkling. it seemed to Skeeter. Il race was won or lost. .
 He unconsciOusly ran each of them. At the sound of the gun his muscles grew taut, and his fingers gripped the seat. During the intervals between the events his eye scanned tier after tier of seats. He found her at last, She was sitting in box, surrounded by a swarm of Forest school cohorts armed with banners and megaphones. and Hughes, immersed in an imposing orange sweater. was leaning toward her in most engaging manner. t
 Skeeter grew pale with envy as he realized that he had been beaten again. Then Lc m2.tcred:
 'He looks like a hunk of schweit- zer!'' sN
 Brutcn won the fifty yard hurdles with ease. The Forest school, how ever, had lost the pole vault as well as the SSO yard run. The relay would add five points. But the 300 was shaky. and, as Skeeter had pre- dicted. the winning of the 40 yard dash would determine the school to which the point trophy would belong. Would Hughes win?
 Involuntarily Skeeter glanced across toward her box. Where was she! Her chair was empty! Where was Hughes?
 First call for the scholastic 44O!'
 The clerk was calling Hughes race.
 A moment later he shouted again:
 Hughes, Forest school, No. 6Ov'
 There was no reply, and the clerk repeated the call.
 Again Hughes failed to respond.
 Skeeter in a panic slipped from his seat and hurried to the dressing room.
 "Where is Hughes" he asked breath lessly. They have called his race, and he hasn't shown up yet.''
 we've looked everywhere for him. spoke up several of Hughes friends. ''He must have gone out with that fe- male"
 "He did," announced another. "I heard her tell him she had a head ache and asked him if he wouldn't go out with her to drug store" nI
 Several boys ran out to fetch Hughes. The coach said something under his breath which made the dress ing room grow quite still He turned to Skeeter.
 If Hughes doesn't show up in time you might as well try to take his place ! for this race. Hustle into a suit and answer to No. 60 at the last call It's a chance in thousandr' The coach peered anxiously through the crowd. T am not surprised" he muttered, half to himself "A boy who hasn't got ! | { : lx:,aFsSaa l | x:s .;sMH H|