“This contest has been advertised as open for all registered amateurs in this country,” he said, at once. “Every one is welcome to compete, and may the best man win.”
CHAPTER XX
THE GOLDEN TROPHY.
The parlor of the clubhouse was well filled when Robert Ashley exposed the trophy, which had been placed on the table in the centre of the room and covered with a flag.
First Mr. Ashley made a short speech, in which he explained his object in offering such an award. In substance it was for the purpose of arousing greater interest in cross-country races and thus to develop in American athletes that stamina and endurance essential in the modern man of business.
“American runners are better known for flashing brilliancy than for dogged determination,” he said. “In the great race of life, endurance wins far more often than brilliancy, which is not infrequently allied with weakness. But the runner must have a strong heart, else he may become discouraged by the apparent success of some competitor who flashes past him at the start. If he persists doggedly, determinedly, gauging himself properly and making the best of his powers, he may have the satisfaction of passing the brilliant starter, leaving him winded and spent and floundering helplessly in some morass of business or thicket of commerce.”
There was a breathless hush when Ashley had finished. Then a signal was given and the flag lifted.
All leaned forward and stared.
Then followed a murmur of admiration and a burst of applause.
It was a statue, the lifelike and natural representation of a diminutive, lithe-limbed runner, being about eight inches in height and molded from a fine quality of gold. The base on which it stood was also of gold.