Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-04-03

managers large readiness. Then
there was that young recruit. John
son, whom Mac was playing q good
deal in the center garden--a slashing,
swift youngster Or maybe, Mac was
displeased. Maybe Is would be better
to give up the beach scheme and work
with the others.
He spent a bad "a hours OF indie
cision. But his plan, 30 far, was
working out so well. He decided to
stick to it, to gamble upon it. Every
afternoon now he went out on the
beach.
In the morning he worked out with
the others. He was there gradually
speeding up-yery gradually. almost
imperceptibly. holding himself care
fully under wraps.
In the afternoons he was on the
beach. He wore only a bathing
suit, and a slight breeze blew, de,
iiciously mild.
He started jogging along at a slow
trot. And he logged, logged. logged,
holding himself down to slow pace.
in spite Of ecstatic demands OF his
muscles, calling for sprint.
And then dip in the cold, singing
surf. Ii was queer what that did TO
him. 1t was funny, that's what it was
He had never felt like that. felt so
good before.
Gradually, from day to day, he in
creased a bit the length of his runs
and a bit the pace. He would start
ing up at the sky, looking at the sea.
breathing deep, enjoying himself, and,
whenever any WEAKNESS came into his
legs. coming down TO a. walk. A hun
dred feet of walking and his legs,
rested, full Of spring, automatically
started him on the trot again--the
little iog-trot which sent the blood
flowing I'm large streams through his
veins, which cleaned his lungs with
great drafts Of the sea air. which
gradually. as ball winds up yarn,
out Of the free spaces was winding into
him strength and health and endur-
ance.
Into the long jog trots he began to
weave little sprints Out of the trot
he would fash in gradual accelera'
| ton which finally had him going at
! full speed, knees pumping TO the chin.
Thus 10. -, 20 yards-and no more.
Two or three times during the long jog
and no more.
And he was getting along fine; the
| plan was succeeding like a dream.
| He'd fool them all yet. Every drop OF
| his blood and every cell of his being
| was getting Mt. At. Slowing up, Ell?
| He laughed In derision. His arm was
| a whip OF steel; his heart. his lungs
were inexhaustible pumps; dynamo
was at his solar plexus. And his legs
those poor old legs--ha, ha-those
| poor legs which had been going back
why, they We're dynamite. Slowing up,
Ell? Slipping. Ell? Passing out Of
the picture" Ell? Say he'd show those
| birds what slowing up was, He'd show
them.
THEN. OF an afternoon, he came
upon the red-headed runner.
John saw the stranger when still al
a distance. The man was coming to
ward him and what first drew Johns
negligent interest was his gait. His
fists were clenched, he swung heavily
from side to side Awkward runner. -
said John to himself.
The mamie was in bathing suit
like John--continued TO approach al
his massive Jog. He did not plant his
feet so that their tracks made \
straight line; he ran with them far
apart, so that he swayed from side to
side. His clenched fists, carried far
ahead, seemed TO be pulling him alona
by the means OF an invisible cable
l"Rotten runner" thought JOHN.
One thing puzzled John, he coulC
not make out the age of that strange
heavy person toiling toward him. Al
first he, thought 1t was a middle-agec
mana. man OF 40 who. some time in
his life. had been an athlete of some
kind--not a runner nor anything thai
called for speed. but perhaps a wres
tier, a gymnast or one of those masto
dons they used in the lines of ancient
foot ball teams. one who had been lons