As the runners swept past the seats where sat Mrs. Sedgwick and Margaret, the girl uttered a trembling scream of joy which was drowned in the disorderly cries of the Seaton followers. Archer was ahead! The blue hurled shouts of encouragement at their struggling champion, who tore along after his rival. Seaton yelled congratulations and encouragement, and Hillbury encouragement and congratulations, for Kilham did close up on Archer. The Seatonians thought they had it, and then feared that they had lost it; while the Hillburyites feared loss, and later exulted in the thought that they had won. It all happened in the shortest possible time, and at first nobody knew the result, not even the judges. Collins, who stood on a line with the finish, said it was very close, but it looked like Archer; Bruce declared that it was Archer by six inches; the Hillburyites capered about, shouting that Kilham had it by a foot. One judge said Archer; the second Kilham; the other wasn’t sure. Kilham ran off to his rub-down straightway; Sam lingered, panting on Collins’s shoulder, to hear the decision. Of course it was not for him to judge the race, but he had felt the worsted thread tighten against his breast, and he knew that a beaten man never brushes the finish cord.
The judges conferred and reported to the announcer, who bellowed forth the news: a tie! Whereat all hands applauded, except the special friends of either contestant, who agreed in considering it “a steal,” but disagreed as to the party whose rights had been stolen. Sam’s first emotion was one of grievous disappointment. Kilham had beaten him often—but this time! After all, it might have been worse. The judges might have given the first place to Kilham, and adjudged him second. Judges are but mortal. The thought of the fate escaped comforted him in a measure for the disappointment. At any rate, he was not a loser. He had won the race as much as Kilham had.
An official appeared with the medals in his hand, pretty shining things, one gold, the other silver, bedded on heavy ribbons marked with the colors of the two schools.
“You’ll have to toss for these,” he said in a businesslike way. “Where’s the other fellow?”
The other fellow had disappeared. Richmond Noyes, the Hillbury baseball captain, pushed forward. “Kilham’s gone to get his rub-down,” he said. “I’ll toss for him.”
The official hesitated a moment as if uncertain as to the propriety of the substitution, but a colleague reassured him. “All right! You call, Archer!” he said, and his practised hand sent a coin spinning in the air.
“Tails!” cried Sam, who had drawn an induction from several experiences that tails were luckier for him than heads.
The official stooped and picked up the coin. “Heads it is!” he announced cheerfully.
Noyes clutched the gold medal and scurried away in quest of Kilham. Sam took his portion of the spoil, and dodging alike compliments and condolences, went his leisurely way toward the Seaton quarters. Could anything be more symbolic than that toss! When after two years of uphill work he was at last wholly ready to meet Kilham in a square, even race, those heavy, clumsy hurdles had to turn up and lose him three or four feet; of course! Kilham, actually beaten by some inches, was considered by the wall-eyed judges to have led; of course! With equal chance to draw the gold medal, he must needs get the silver; of course! Did ever any one have such luck!
“Archer! Oh, Archer! Hold on!”