[Illustration: AS TO WHO HAD WON, IRVING HAD NOT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA]

As to who had won, Irving had not the slightest idea. He was hastening
up to find out—hoping that it had been Westby. And then out from the
crowd burst Westby and rushed towards him, panting, flushed, hot-eyed,
attended by Morrill and half a dozen other Corinthians.

“I hope you’re satisfied with your spite-work,” said Westby. His voice
shook with passion, his eyes blazed; never before had Irving seen him
when he had so lost control of himself. “You lost me that race—by half a
yard! I hope you’re pleased with yourself!”

He surveyed Irving scornfully, breathing hard, then turned his back and
strode off to the athletic house.




CHAPTER VII

THE WORM BEGINS TO TURN


After the charge which Westby had flung at him so furiously, Irving
looked in amazement to the other boys for an explanation. They were all
Corinthians, and he saw gloom and resentment in their faces.

“I think it was pretty rough, Mr. Upton, to penalize him for an
unintentional foul,” said Morrill. “He’d have beaten Flack if they’d