strength and speed on the smooth cinder track against others as eager as
himself. He had never done anything of that kind; hardly until now had
he ever felt the desire. Why it should come upon him now so poignantly
he did not know; but on this warm October afternoon, when the air and
the sunshine were as soft as in early September, he wished that he might
be a boy again and do the things which as a boy he had never done. To be
still young and looking on at the sports and the strife of youth, sports
and strife in which he had never borne a part—there was something
humiliating and ignoble in the thought. If he could only be for the
moment the little Fourth Former there, Price—now flying on in the lead
yet casting many fearful backward glances!—Poor child, even Irving’s
inexperienced eyes told him that he could never keep that pace.

“Go it, kid!” cried three or four older boys good-naturedly, as Price
panted by; and he threw back his head and came down more springily upon
his toes, trying in response to the cheer to display his best form.

After him came Bolton and Edwards, side by side; and Collingwood, who
started at scratch, had moved up a little on Morse and Heath. Heath was
considered the strongest runner in the event for the Corinthians, and
they urged him on with cries of “Heath! Heath!” as he made the turn.
“You’ve got ’em, Lou!” shouted a group of Pythians the next moment as
Collingwood passed. It was early in the race for any great demonstration
of excitement.

It was Price whom Irving watched with most sympathy. When he got round
on the farther side of the field, his pace had slackened perceptibly;
Bolton and Edwards passed him and kept on widening the distance; Morse
and Heath passed him at the next turn; and when he came down to the turn
in front of the crowd, running heavily, Collingwood overhauled and