CHAPTER XI THE RELAY RACE

Only the actual competitors were allowed to leave town for the Boston meet, so unless he could contrive to receive mandatory invitations from friends to spend Sunday in Boston, or devise especial business to call him peremptorily to the city, the average student must abandon all hope of seeing the contest. Wolcott Lindsay, who lived in Boston, went home for the Sunday, and got an invitation for Durand. One boy had to visit his dentist, another his guardian, a third a doctor, a fourth to buy absolutely necessary clothes which could not be procured at Seaton. The twins, who took an extraordinary interest in the event from the moment they learned that their neighbor was on the team, canvassed at great length the prospects of getting away. Duncan was on study hours and could hope for no favors, but he persuaded his brother that the only fair way was that Donald, whose scholarship usually[Pg 113] secured him the favor of teachers, should ask permission on certain plausible grounds, and the two then draw lots for the privilege of going, the one left behind in any case to represent Duncan. Unfortunately for the scheme, when Donald applied for his permission he was obliged to confess that he had received no specific invitation to visit his aunt in Brookline, and that in the whole course of his stay in Seaton he had never, until this particular Saturday, felt the serious nature of his family obligation. So the scheme came to naught, and the Pecks stayed at home.

The huge space of the Mechanics Building on Huntington Avenue was circled by deep fringes of spectators packed in double galleries and crowded close to the outer edge of the thirteen-lap track. Here were phalanxes of boys from Boston schools, straining their throats in crying up the courage of their schoolmates; college youths in rival camps, their emulous cheers varying through a wide range, from the staccato spelling of some college name to the "three long Harvards" of the Cambridge men; women and girls who brought to the contest tense interest and strong[Pg 114] sympathy, if not expert knowledge; men who loved athletics for their own sake, who, if they did not "delight in the strength of a horse," certainly "took pleasure in the legs of a man." It was like a dozen tournaments and a dozen audiences crowded into one.

Saturated with the feeling that the Seaton-Hillbury struggle was the event of the day, and new to the whole medley of many institutions contesting in ceaseless uproar, Owen was at first both bewildered and discouraged. In the terrific din the crack of the starter's pistol and the bellowing of announcers were well-nigh drowned by the blare of band music, the cheers of untiring supporters, and the recurring waves of general applause. He watched the Harvard-Pennsylvania relay match, in which veterans ran like blooded race horses amid tremendous excitement, and felt still more disheartened. The place seemed so vast, the interests of contestants so diverse, the big college teams so all-important, that the Seaton-Hillbury race could hardly prove more than one of the minor details of the meet,—in fact, might be carelessly managed or neglected. And yet,[Pg 115] as he knew well, to the impatient waiters for a telegram at Seaton, there was but one contest in the day's programme; and no explanation that it was but a small part of a great performance would be accepted in palliation of defeat.

There seemed no end of contests and no beginning, but just one long series of overlapping performances. In the area belted by the big wooden track a cloud of contestants had been engaged in running off interminable heats in the forty-five yards dash. Jeffrey, the Seaton representative, did not reach the semi-finals. Meantime, giants of many medals and astonishing records, gathered by invitation from all points of the compass, were tossing the sixteen-pound shot in the space reserved for that amusement. The six hundred yards handicap men were strung out, according to the privileges they had received from the handicapper, a third of the way round the track; but near the starting-line they were herded like cattle and sent off in a drove. Rob's courage was at its lowest ebb as he witnessed the wild scramble at the first corner, where one unfortunate fell against the legs of another, and put three men[Pg 116] out of position. It was hard to obtain a fair chance under these conditions.

But Rhines of Seaton got a place at the finish, and the waiting relay man felt better. Immediately afterward, he was pursuing with breathless attention a fiercely fought contest between two rival Boston schools, in which the leadership shifted with every lap, and the victor passed his competitor within ten feet of the finish line. The announcer shouted out the time, which proved to be but a trifle slower than the college men had made, the crowd roared, the camp of supporters of the victorious team just opposite yelled and threw their blue banners in the air,—oh, no, the big teams weren't the whole thing by any means!

"Good, wasn't it!" said a fat man, beaming at his friend in the corner of a seat near where Rob was standing. "But if you want to see two teams fight for their lives, you just wait for the Seaton-Hillbury race. They're terribly scrappy fellows."

It may not have been a compliment, but Rob took it as such, and held up his head; yet how he longed to have the whole thing successfully over,[Pg 117] or at least for the return of the old sense of individual security which he had always felt on the ball field, even under the most untoward circumstances.

The Seaton-Hillbury men were called. Away over in the distant corner, a little knot of spectators became suddenly excited; a tall, broad-shouldered fellow stood forth and swung his arms. Before him were the boys who had had to visit their tailors, their dentists, their doctors, their guardians, their dear relatives in city or suburbs. The familiar Seaton cheers rang out, feeble and far away, yet filled with a message of confidence and support. Rob felt the thrill of gratitude as he recognized Wolcott Lindsay leading the cheering, and saw the little group swelled by recruits from Seatonians in college, who pressed in about the nucleus. The team was not friendless in the great hall.

The pistol cracked and the first pair were off, Rohrer of Seaton and Leyland of Hillbury. Neck and neck they ran to the first turn, where the Hillbury man got the inside and kept it for a whole lap, with Rohrer close at his heels and just out[Pg 118]side. As they flashed by, Rob counted excitedly one, and followed them with his eyes as they swung round on the second circle. On the back stretch Rohrer tried to pass, but was crowded out at the turn and for the second time the pair swept by. This time Rohrer reached the curve even with his man, clung to him as he rounded the end, and once more on the back stretch drove himself to gain the inside at the turn. In his intense interest in the contest Rob had forgotten that his own labor was just about to begin; but Collins, faithful, watchful Collins, put him on his guard; and as the exhausted pair came straining in, like horses lashed across the finish line, Rob stood ready with yearning muscles and quivering nerves to touch hands with Rohrer and speed away. Rohrer gave him a lead of three good yards.

Could he keep this lead? For the first hundred yards, yes, or for a long stretch in which endurance was of equal value with speed; but for the intermediate distance, for the three hundred ninety yards which was the length of course he had to run with Kurtz, he had no confidence in his powers. One thing, however, he was determined on.[Pg 119] Whether Kurtz was ahead or behind, whether he was gaining or losing, he would run his stretch to the limit of his powers.

Around the first curve he was safe. On the back stretch Kurtz was gaining,—he knew it from the roars of the crowd,—but he still kept the pole at the second curve and crossed the starting line still ahead. Then Kurtz appeared at his elbow, passed by, swung into the curve just before him, gained on the back stretch, and passed the starting line at the end of the second lap ten yards ahead. Strong panted and quivered as he saw the distance grow, and Collins set his lips together and clenched his hands; but neither had a word of blame for the runner as he passed them on his last lap. "After him!" cried Collins. "Run it out!" screamed Strong. And Rob, hopeless but game to the end, dug his spikes into the track and drove himself steadily forward.

Yes, Kurtz was faster, but—not stronger. At the turn they were still ten yards apart, on the straightaway beyond but seven separated the contestants. Around the last curve Rob steadily[Pg 120] plodding gained three more on his weakening antagonist. When some seconds later, Strong, trembling with eagerness, touched his hand and darted away like a wild animal after its prey, Hillbury was but three yards ahead.

"I lost it!" gasped Rob, on Collins' shoulder.

"Not a bit of it!" retorted Collins. "You've done all I meant you to do. Kurtz was their best man. Look at Strong beat the stuffing out of that Hapgood!"

It was even so. Strong was trying Kurtz's trick of rushing by his antagonist with a burst of high speed, and trusting then to discouragement to keep the Hillbury man behind. When he crossed the starting line for the first time he had a lead of five yards; at the end of the second lap his margin was twelve. When Benton took up the race for the final heat, he was indebted to his captain for a ten yards' start.

And here, to the joy of the crowd and the fright of the Seatonians, came an unexpected development. Royce of Hillbury went at his task with startling vigor. On the first round he gained four yards, on the second three, on the back stretch[Pg 121] of the third he was close at Benton's elbow, but Benton still held the inside as they rounded the curve; and the yard lost on the outside run the plucky Hillburyite could not make up. He was still a yard in the rear when Benton breasted the tape at the finish line.

It was Rob's first and last race. Delighted yet regretful, trembling in every limb, and suddenly deprived of his strength like Samson under Delilah's shears, he dragged himself into the dressing rooms for his bath and rub down. Here he was congratulated and thanked by Lindsay and Durand and others of the thin cheering line. Here they brought him his prize, which he received with joy tempered with humility. If Strong and Rohrer had not done better than himself and Benton, the prizes would now be in other hands.