Sam smiled assent. “Twice.”
“And shall be again, probably. Don’t let those small school fellows beat us, anyway. If I can’t win, I hope you will.”
“The same to you,” answered Sam; but his voice was lost in the starter’s call.
On the “set” Doane tried to beat the starter, and was put back a foot. All hung well on the next trial, and the pistol shot sent them away. Doane flashed into the front rank at the outset, but he was clumsy on the second hurdle and lost his advantage. Kilham and Archer rose from the start together. Kilham reached the first hurdle a foot ahead, but Archer gained on the hurdle jump. It was the same on the second. At the third hurdle, four runners seemed to sweep the air abreast, but Doane and Whelan lost a fraction of a second in clearing, and fell a foot behind Kilham and Archer. On the final stretch the Hillbury man drove himself to the front. Sam strained at his sluggish muscles with every power of nerve and brain, but Kilham was the faster. Sam’s frantic efforts, though insufficient to carry him past Kilham, at least enabled him to hold a place ahead of his pursuers. He crossed the line second, adjudged to have the better of Whelan by a few inches.
“What do you honestly think, Collins?” demanded Sam, as the two talked over the day’s happenings on the train that evening. “Shall I ever be able to beat that fellow, or is he going to do me right along for the next four years?”
“I don’t know,” returned Collins, frankly. “Kilham’s a mighty good hurdler for a schoolboy, but he isn’t the best there ever was. I’ve seen him weaken a good bit on the last thirty yards of the one-twenty. You’re about even on starting, and he’s faster, but you’ve got the staying power. It’ll depend on how you learn to take the hurdles. You wouldn’t have the ghost of a show on the low ones, but on the high—well, I’ve seen a lot of good men beaten on the last twenty yards of the high hurdles.”
Such was the dubious form which Collins’s encouragement took. Collins believed thoroughly in the efficacy of work; he was also convinced that Archer was slowly “coming,” but he was not one to raise false hopes.
“Then you really think I can improve on the hurdle work?” pursued Sam.
“Of course. You jump too high, and that first stride when you come down is too long. You bring your outer foot around well, but it goes out too far. You ought to better that a good bit in the spring practice.”
Whatever Collins may have expected from the spring training, he had no reason to complain of Sam’s diligence. The average boy will work with great zeal for the first and last weeks of his preparation for an important contest. He usually starts with enthusiasm, allows his ardor to ebb under the tiresome monotony of the daily drudgery, and warms to his work again as the crisis approaches. And not infrequently does it happen that the loss by this middle period of neglect proves so serious that the candidate drops out discouraged before the test arrives. It was one of Collins’s strong points as a trainer that he tried to carry his charges all the way. He did not trust all reports or accept every excuse. He strove to know what his boys were doing, how they were spending their time, what they ate and drank, where they went. He made no apologies for searching closely into the lives which the boys were leading. Unless they lived properly, played honorably, worked faithfully, he would have none of them.