Crack!
It seemed to the mass of spectators, craning their necks to see what took place, as though that whole line of lithe runners sprang forward as one.
Every fellow doubtless had his favorite way of waiting for the signal; though a quick start is of far less importance in a long run of ten miles than when the race is a short dash. Some crouched in all sorts of weird attitudes, doubtless assumed for effect; but several simply stood with the body bent for the plunge.
“They’re off!” shrieked hundreds of voices, as the nine boys were seen to speed away like the wind.
Eager eyes followed their every move, for everything depended on the result of this race; that is, with Bellport and Columbia. If Clifford won, why the other two schools would of course be simply tied for honors; and must have another test at some later date. This would be a bad thing all around, since the tension under which the pupils would continue to labor must affect their ability to pass the annual examinations with credit.
Many became anxious because the new wonder from Clifford, Larry Parker, had shot into the lead, and seemed capable of increasing the distance between himself and his competitors at will.
“It’s a walkaway!” whooped the Clifford boys; for if they could only pull off the most important event of the great day, that victory would go far toward healing the wounds caused by the poor showing of their athletes in other contests.
But very few Columbia fellows were anxious at this early stage in the race. They knew only too well that ten miles was a long distance to cover, and all sorts of things could happen before the goal was in sight.
“Frank and Lanky and Bones make a team that is simply unbeatable!” they continued to say, one to another, as the last of the nine runners vanished from view up the road in the distance.
“Yes,” others would add, “don’t we know the tactics of Frank Allen to a dot? You never would catch him letting himself out in the start of a grilling ten-mile run, like that new fellow does. He works up to it by degrees, and the result is at the last quarter he feels fresh, while the sprinter is all in. And the other fellows have been ordered to do the same as Frank. Just wait! The one that shouts last, shouts loudest. We’re holding our wind for the end!”