Winning His "W": A Story of Freshman Year at College

by Everett T. Tomlinson

"Did he say that?"

"That's what he did."

"The two-twenty hasn't been run yet. I believe I'll go in for that."

"That's the way to talk."

"Let me see when it comes," said Will, turning to his program as he spoke.

"Fifteen minutes yet," said Hawley. "Come into the dressing room, Phelps, and I'll give you a good rubbing down."

Will at once accompanied his friend to the dressing room, and when the call for the two hundred and twenty yards' dash was made, he took his place on the line with the other competitors. There were only four, the same four that had run in the final heat of the hundred yards, the defeated contestants all having dropped out save one.

When the pistol was fired and the racers had started, Will was at once aware that again the victory was not to be his. The lack of training and practice, and perhaps also the depression which his previous defeat had produced in his mind contributed to his failure; but whatever the cause, though he exerted himself to the utmost, he found that he was unable to overtake either Mott or Ogden, who steadily held their places before him. It was true when the race was finished that he was less than a yard behind Mott, who was himself only about a foot in the rear of the fleet-footed Ogden, and that the fourth runner was so far behind Will that he was receiving the hootings and jibes of the sophomores, but still the very best that Phelps was able to do was to cross the line as third. It was true that again he had won a point for the honor of his class, but it was first place he had longed to gain, and his disappointment was correspondingly keen.

It was Hawley who again received him in his arms, and once more the young giant endeavored to console his defeated classmate, for as such Will looked upon himself, in spite of the fact that he had come in third, and therefore had scored a point in each race. But as Hawley perceived that his friend was in no mood to listen, he wisely refrained from speaking, and both stood near the track watching the contestants in the various events that were not yet run off. Too proud to acknowledge his disappointment in his defeat by departing from the field, and yet too sore in his mind to arouse much enthusiasm, he waited till the games were ended and it was known that the sophomores had won by a score of sixty-four and a half to forty-eight and a half. Then he quietly sought the dressing room, and as soon as he had donned his garments went at once to his own room.

It was a relief to find that not even Foster was there, and as he seated himself in his easy-chair and gazed out at the brilliantly clad hills with the purple haze that rested over them all, for a time a feeling of utter and complete depression swept over him. Was this the fulfillment of the dreams he had cherished of the happiness of his college life? Already warned by Splinter that his work in Greek was so poor that he was in danger of being dropped from the class, the keen disappointment of his father apparent though his words had been few, the grief in his home and the peril to himself were all now visible to the heart-sick young freshman. And now to lose in the two track events had added a weight that to Will seemed to be almost crushing. He had pictured to himself how he would lightly turn away his poor work in the classroom by explaining that he could not hope to win in everything, and that athletics had always been his strong point anyway. But now even that was taken away and his failure was almost equally apparent in both.