CHAPTER XVI
THE INDOOR MEETING
Mechanics' Hall, Boston, was filled from floor to gallery, from doorsto stage. The hum of voices, the fluttering of programs, the slowbellow of the announcer as, with megaphone at mouth, he gave the resultof the events, made a strange medley of sound.
From one corner of the floor to another there ran diagonally alime-marked lane. Since half past seven white-trunked figures hadrushed, half a dozen at a time, down this lane at top speed, had flungthemselves panting, with outstretched arms, against the mattresses atthe end, and had turned and trotted back to the dressing-rooms.
The supply had seemed inexhaustible. Heat after heat had been run inthe Forty Yards Novice, heat after heat in the Forty Yards Invitation,heat after heat in the Forty Yards Handicap, and now the hurdles werein place, the pistol was cracking forth, and white-clad forms wereflying breathlessly over the bars and breasting the red string at thefinish.
At each report of the pistol the center gallery leaped to its feet, thehurdlers sprang into sight from below and sped away like arrows acrossthe yellow floor. Hurdles crashed, the crowd shouted, the racers flungtheir arms at the tape and collapsed against the padded wall at theend of the lane, and the center gallery sank into its seats again andrustled its programs. And the announcer lifted his crimson trumpet:
"Forty-five Yards Hurdles--fourth heat won by No. 390, No. 3 second;time, 6-2/5 seconds."
There were dozens of colleges, schools, and associations representedthere that night, and hundreds of competitors. There was the blue Y ofYale, the crimson H of Harvard, the red C of Cornell, the green D ofDartmouth, the purple E of Erskine, the brown R of Robinson, and many,many other insignia flaunted on heaving breasts.
Thirty-odd officials, in immaculate evening clothes, lent a note ofsobriety to the colorful scene, while a blue-coated policeman, whoseduty it was to guard the long table of mugs and tankards, stood outintensely against the gleam and glitter of the prizes. On the bigstage, the sloping bank of watchers looked from the floor like a bedof waving somber-hued flowers. From a corner of the balcony came thestrains of brazen music.
The jumping standards were set and the competitors ranged themselvesalong the edge of the track, their sweaters and dressing-gowns of allcolors thrown loosely about their bare shoulders. The Clerk of Coursecould be heard at the dressing-room door summoning the men for the nextevent:
"All out for the two miles!"
The sloping corners of the track rang with the footsteps of thecandidates as they warmed up. There were fifteen entries, and amongthem were men from Harvard, Yale, Cornell, Massachusetts Institute ofTechnology, Phillips Exeter Academy, and Erskine College. Erskine'srepresentative was rather nervous as, with his number flapping athis back, he was assigned the place at the pole in the front line.Beside him was a Cornell runner whose prowess was well known, andAllan Ware marveled at his own temerity. Surely, he had no chanceagainst the Cornell man, nor, for that matter, against several of theothers. Well, he would run as well as he knew how and take his beatingphilosophically.
The fact was, that the intense excitement was unnerving him. And thatwas why, when the starter had cried "Set!" Allan dashed forward, takinghalf the line with him. For this misdemeanor he and three others werepromptly relegated to the last row. Then the command came again and thepistol cracked.
At the first turn Allan had to fight to keep from being hustled fromthe track. After the next corner the runners had settled down to theirwork, a New York man making easy pace. Allan was well in front. Thenervousness had left him now and he had no thought for the cheeringspectators, for the blaring strains from the band, for anything, inshort, save the struggle on hand. Lap after lap was reeled off untilthe race was half finished. Allan was still holding his own, with theconsciousness of much power in reserve. The New York man still kept thelead, while close on his heels ran one of the Cornell contingent.
Presently a Yale man fought his way up to Allan, and for half a lapthey contested fifth place. Then, at a turn, the Yale man took the bankand slid into the lead, and Allan was sixth. He expected changes ahead.Of course the New York runner would not attempt to keep the lead muchlonger. He would drop back, Allan would overhaul the Yale chap, and inthe last two laps he would call on the reserve power he was certain hehad and fight it out to the finish.
He looked back. The nearest runner was several yards away and didn'tappear dangerous. The relative positions remained unchanged for anotherlap, and then things began to happen.
The Yale man dropped back, a second Cornell man--Allan recognized himas the one who had been beside him at the start--spurted into thirdplace, and Allan found himself still running fifth. He had lost countof the laps, but believed there could not be more than two left.
So he started to crawl up. At the next corner, that by thedressing-rooms, he passed the Cornell man who had been second for solong; his duty was done and he was easing up on his pace. Down thestretch Allan gained on a Technology runner, but failed to pass him.Suddenly the gong announcing the last lap clanged. Allan glanced acrossthe hall. The New York man was still in the lead, and was increasingthat lead at every stride.
Allan threw back his head and fought for third place. On the nextstretch footsteps sounded behind him. At the first corner Allan justsucceeded in keeping the lead; on the short stretch, a Yale man passedhim and left him as though standing. It was all up now; he was fifth,and there was no chance of bettering his position. The leader, wellahead of the Cornell man, was taking the last corner. The Yale manwho had just passed Allan was taking third place hand over fist.The Technology runner was plainly faltering, and yet, thought Allansavagely, here was he, with all sorts of power of lung and muscle left,dragging along behind him!
He clasped his hands tighter and threw himself forward. Fourth placewas better than fifth, he told himself, and at least he would not bebeaten by a man who was ready to fall. So up he went, working as hardto beat out the Technology runner as though first place was at stake.And beat him he did, and turned off of the track and walked back to thedressing-room apparently as untired as when he had started.
"You lost that race," said Kernahan, "when you lost your place in thefirst row. But don't you care; you've learned a thing or two, and oneof them's to wait for the pistol."
"But I'm not decently winded," Allan complained. "I could run the milenow, and yet those chaps beat me."
"Sprinting ability is what you've got to learn, my boy. And with threemonths before the dual----"
"Hang the dual!" said Allan, petulantly. "I wanted to win this."
"Well, there's the mile yet," said Billy, soothingly.
But the mile brought Allan scant satisfaction. He was given a handicapof thirty-five yards, and, although this time he was careful to waitfor the pistol, he came to the conclusion when half the distance wasrun that he might as well drop out of the race. There were almost fiftyentries, and it seemed less a race than a fast-moving procession. Theturns were always filled with fellows elbowing and fighting, and afterthe half-distance it was hard to tell who the leaders were, so closethey were to the tail-enders.
Rindgely and Harris had also entered, and about the only satisfactionAllan was able to gather was derived from the fact that he had thembeaten from the start. But the smaller handicaps allowed those youthshad something to do with that. Allan never knew what number he was atthe finish, and didn't much care.
In the dressing-room, Harris, Rindgely, Long, and Monroe--the latterthe only Erskine entry who had won a place--were finding balm in thefact that Robinson hadn't showed up in a single event.
"Wait until the team race, though," said Rindgely, darkly. "That'swhere they'll get us; you'll see."
"Don't believe it," said Harris, stoutly. "When does it come off?"
"After this, I think," said Long. "Who's got a program?"
"That's right," said Monroe. "Hello, Ware! Say, that was a perfectmess, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was," growled Allan. "I never knew whether I was runni
ng thislap or the last one."
"Or the one ahead," added Harris.
"Thought you were going to do something," said Rindgely. "You had agood chance."
"Did I?" Allan responded, with intense sarcasm. "All right, only Ididn't know it."
"Let's get out of here and see the Harvard and Penn race," Longsuggested. "Where's our team?"
"They're out there somewhere. Thatcher says we're going to get it putall over us," said Allan.
"Thatcher's an old raven," said Harris, as they crowded out to wherethey could watch the race. "If he runs as well as he croaks, we're allright."
Harvard secured the race with University of Pennsylvania, and thoughthe result was not long in doubt, yet the crimson-clad runners wereforced to better the record by three-fifths of a second. Then theclerk's voice was heard at the dressing-room door:
"All out for Erskine-Robinson Team Race! All out!"
Of Erskine's relay team, only Thatcher, the captain, was an experiencedrunner. The others--Poor, Gibbons, and Tolmann--had earned the right torepresent the college at the trials, but for all of that were unknownquantities. They were all of them, Thatcher included, small men; Poorwas little over five feet in height, and looked as though he had neverhad enough to eat. As they trotted around the track, getting warmedup, Robinson's candidates overtopped them to a man. It was a big,long-limbed quartet that Robinson had sent, and had the result dependedon height and length of leg alone the Brown would have had the race wonat the start.
Allan had secured a place near the front of the throng at thedressing-room door, and beside him, noticeable because of the eveningclothes which he wore, was one of the officials, an inspector whosename was down on the program as "Horace L. Pearson, N. Y. A. C." It waswhile the two teams were still warming up that Allan heard his namespoken, and turned to find Mr. Pearson in conversation with Harris.
"Beg your pardon," the inspector was saying, "but the man beyond youthere is Ware, of your college, isn't he?" But he wasn't looking inAllan's direction at all.
"No, sir," answered Harris, "that's Rindgely."
"Sure of it?"
"Quite, sir," replied Harris, smiling.
"Hm! I saw he was down on the card as Rindgely, but I thought maybe itwas a mistake. What does the other man, Ware, look like?"
"He's here somewhere," said Harris. And then his voice dropped andAllan, looking carefully away, felt the inspector's gaze upon hisface. He wondered what it might mean and why Rindgely had been mistakenfor him, but his speculation was short-lived, for at that moment thepistol cracked and two runners, one with his white shirt crossed witha brown silk ribbon and the other bearing a purple E on his breast,sprang forward and fought for the lead at the first turn. The Erskineman was Thatcher and his opponent was named Guild. As they reached theother end of the track and sped past the dressing-room, conflictingshouts of encouragement from Erskine and Robinson supporters followedthem.
Thatcher had secured the pole at the start and had leaped into the leadat the turn. He was still ahead, but Guild was close behind him, hislong strides seeming to be always on the point of taking him past, yetnever doing so. Thatcher's plan was plainly to hand over the race tothe next runner of his team with a good, big margin of gain, trustingthat, if unable to increase the advantage, the other Erskine men wouldat least hold what they had. But the big gain wasn't forthcoming yet.
As he neared the starting-point and the finish of the first of his twolaps he strove desperately to leave his opponent, but it was not untilthe last lap was a third run that daylight opened up between the two.The Robinson chap was proving himself a worthy foe. Half-way around thelast lap there was ten feet between Purple and Brown. From there ondown to the mark, where the next two men stood with eager, outstretchedhands, Thatcher gained and gained; but he had commenced late, and whenGuild touched the hand of his team-mate and fell over into the arms ofthe Robinson trainer he was only fifteen yards to the bad.
Gibbons, short of leg and rather heavy of build, was flying over thefirst turn as though possessed, and behind him pattered Thorpe ofRobinson. Down the stretch they flew, while the band was drowned bythe shouts of the onlookers. It was a pretty contest that, even thoughto discerning ones, at least, the end was not in doubt. Gibbons lookedlike a small whirlwind, and gave every indication of killing himselfbefore the second lap was finished, but Thorpe, with long and easystrides, ate up the interval between them foot by foot, and when thesecond lap began was in position to take the lead whenever he wanted to.
Half-way down the side he did so. Gibbons fought him off desperatelyfor an instant, but at the turn Robinson led by a yard. Then it wasthat Gibbons surprised even his trainer, for, instead of steadilydropping back, he refused to yield an inch and chased Thorpe down tothe finish like an avenging fate, crossing the line a bare yard behindhim.
That yard of advantage was five yards half through the next lap,Tolmann failing to prove a match for Brine of Robinson. Foot after footand yard after yard opened up between them, and when the last lap beganthe Brown's runner was an eighth of a lap ahead.
"Well, that's settled right now," said Long, who had jostled his way toAllan's side. "If we still had Thatcher we might stand some show, but Iguess Poor can't cut down that lead enough to make it look even close."
"Thatcher's idea was all right," said Allan, "but he didn't know howgood his man was. Robinson's next man is her captain, I think, and Isuppose he ought to be the best of the lot."
"He ought to be, but maybe he isn't. Poor is a plucky little chap, andmaybe he'll give Jones a run for his money. Look at him!"
At the other end of the hall Erskine's last hope was leaning over themark, one slim white arm thrust forward and one reaching impatientlyback toward where Tolmann, swaying and gasping, was vainly strivingto save the race. Poor looked plucky without a doubt, and when, afterwhat seemed an age, Tolmann struck weakly at his hand and staggeredoff the track, he was off like a shot, his thin legs twinkling like asalmon-colored streak as he followed the Robinson captain. The latterwas almost a quarter of a lap ahead and was running easily, yet keepinga watchful glance upon his opponent. And, as it proved, that watchfulglance was not thrown away.
The band blared forth a two-step with might and main, supporters of therival colleges clapped, shouted, and shrieked, and the runners' shoes_tap-tapped_ on the floor and pounded over the built-up corners.
And then, of a sudden, a roar started among the audience and gatheredvolume and swept deafeningly across the great hall, and Allan,raising himself on tiptoes, gave a shout of joy. For just an instantor two after passing the second turn the Robinson captain had becomeinattentive to his pursuer, and in that brief moment Poor had literallyeaten up space with his flying feet until now twenty yards would havespanned the distance between them. Jones, warned by the applause,leaped ahead, but Poor refused to yield an inch he had gained. Morethan that, he kept on gaining.
The bell clanged the beginning of the last lap of the race and theRobinson runner swept over the line fifteen yards ahead of Poor, hislong strides making the latter's look ridiculously short by comparison.But if his strides were short, they were also rapid, and Poor, hislittle, weazened face screwed into an agony of effort, chased hisopponent down in the next half lap, and at the second turn was barelytwo yards behind. Jones was plainly worried. As he pounded around thecorner his right arm was thrust out in an involuntary effort to keephis opponent from passing him. But Poor was not able to do that onthe turn, and for the next stretch their relative positions remainedunchanged.
As they dashed by the group at the dressing-room door, Allan and Longand Harris and the others shrieked exhortations and encouragement totheir runner. Then the next turn was taken, Jones stumbled, savedhimself, and led the way down the last stretch, his head back, hismouth wide open, and his speed lessening at every stride.
But if he was ready to give up, so, too, was Poor, who had run aquarter of a lap farther than he. And all the way down that stretch theRobinson captain struggled and faltered a
nd the Erskine runner doggedhis steps, unable to pass him. And then something happened, and soquickly that it was all over before the sight had time to register themeaning of it on the brain.
Half-way over the turn, and twenty yards from the finish, Jones swayed,tripped, and rolled over to the edge of the track, and Poor, less thantwo yards behind him, plunged blindly over him, sprawled and rolledalong for three yards, and then, in some strange manner, found his feetand took up the running again. So, too, did Jones, but the larger manhad fallen more heavily, and for an instant remained dazed upon thefloor.
That instant decided the race, for although he was up again almostbefore the audience had sensed the catastrophe, yet he had lost thelead. For the last few yards the two men, giddy, swaying, their headsfallen almost onto their breasts, strove weakly for the line. The nextmoment Poor threw out his arms and sprawled forward on his face acrossthe chalk-mark and Jones, stumbling past him, fell, sliding on handsand knees to the edge of the track.
Down by the dressing-room door Allan and the others were whooping it upjoyfully, for Erskine had turned defeat into victory and won the relayby a scant three yards!
On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics Page 17
