“Who is backing Shepard?” inquired some old cadets.
“Only Brag,” was the reply. “He’s got an idea that Shepard can run, from some trial he had with him, but no one ever heard of Shepard as a runner. Brag has two or three pounds on the race, and I wouldn’t be Shepard for something, for Brag will vent his disappointment on him.”
During this conversation, which I overheard, several cadets had cleared the course and made a line of handkerchiefs at the winning-post, whilst I toed a line five yards before Horsford. I kept taking long breaths so as to oxygenise my blood well, for I hoped to run the whole distance without taking breath. I felt great confidence in myself, because in the races for the bat I fancied I was more speedy than Horsford; for I did not imagine that he was concealing his speed for any purpose, so I saw no reason to doubt the result.
Everything being ready, the word “Off!” was given, and away I went. I was very quick at starting, and got well on my legs at once. I could have run the whole distance at speed, but for the first sixty yards I did not do all I knew. I dared not look round, for I had read in sporting works that many races had been lost by doing so, so I could not tell whether Horsford was near me. At about thirty yards from home, however, I could feel that my opponent was close to me. There were shouts of “Go it, Horsford!” “Run, little ’un!”
“Now for it, Horsford?” which showed me he was close to me; so, bracing myself up, as it were, I dashed on with all my speed and carried away the line of handkerchiefs on my chest.
Brag rushed up to me, and patted me on the back and said,—
“Bravo, youngster! you won cleverly.”
As I walked back to the winning-post I was the centre of curiosity. All the old cadets were staring at me, and I could not help feeling a certain amount of pride in having won this race. I had been so bullied and snubbed as a last-joined neux that all the conceit was taken out of me, and I felt regularly cowed, so that a triumph like the present was quite refreshing to me. The remarks of the old cadets, too, were amusing; for it was the general opinion that I looked less like a runner than any boy they had ever seen, as I looked delicate and was short.
That evening, in our room, Brag was very civil, and even Snipson seemed to think more of me than he did before. When Snipson left the room, which he did to go to the library, Brag asked me if I thought I had won my race easily.
I replied that I had, and added, “You won’t think me conceited, I hope, if I say I am tolerably sure I can beat Horsford even.”