“You may be sure I shall do my best to beat you.”
A moment later a great shout went up from the spectators.
The runners had started, darting off from the scratch like so many deer.
Swiftwing started in a most astonishing manner, seeming to leap off at full speed in a second.
Frank was not slow in starting, but he found the Indian had gained a slight advantage at the outset.
It was a beautiful sight to see the five runners come speeding along the track, heads up, breasts thrown forward, nostrils dilated and eyes flashing.
Of them all, two persons seemed to fly over the ground with very little exertion.
They were John Swiftwing and Frank Merriwell.
At Frank’s side ran a tall Indian who was making great speed, but did not seem as graceful as the white boy or the Indian in advance.
Although Swiftwing had gained an advantage at the start, he was not able to widen the distance between himself and the white boy. Close behind him he could hear the feet of Frank Merriwell.