“Huh,” said Tom, “why doesn’t the amateur up and beat the professional at his own game? There’s nothing very wonderful about a man, just because he runs for money, instead of the honor.”
“Thrue fer you, me bye,” returned Reddy, smiling, “but that’s sometimes easier said than done. A man who’s running to earn his bread is usually going to run faster than the man who’s simply out fer glory. That may not sound very noble, and all that, but it’s the truth, nine times out o’ ten.”
“Yes, but how about the tenth time?” asked Bert, who had been listening attentively to all the trainer said.
“Well, once in a great while the ‘ringer’ gets tripped up, o’ course. I remember one time, many a long year ago, when I saw jist the thing you mentioned happen,” and a reminiscent smile spread over the veteran’s face.
The listening group of young athletes sensed a story at once, and assailed Reddy with requests to “fire away, and tell them about it.”
The trainer seemed in a talkative mood, and without much urging, began.
“’Twas whin I was but a young lad,” he said, “but even thin I was always interested in sport of any kind, and used to attend ivery track event for miles around the little town where I lived. I used to help around the club houses, carryin’ water and such things, and got to know, by sight at any rate, a good many well-known runners and sich.
“Well, one day there was a big college meet not far from our town, and o’ course nothin’ would do me but what I must see it.
“Accordin’ly, I was hangin’ around the club house long before the time for the race, and had plenty o’ time to size up the contestants. They were as fine lookin’ a set o’ byes as you could wish to see, and they was all jokin’ and rough-housin’ as though they had never a care on their minds. I knew they’d be in dead enough earnest in a little while, though.
“Well, the time come for them to get dressed in their runnin’ togs, and suddenly I began to sit up an’ take notice, as you might say. As one big, sthrappin’ feller, that I hadn’t noticed much before, on account o’ his havin’ kept apart a little from the others, and havin’ been so quiet-like, stood up in his runnin’ suit, it flashed across me mind that I’d seen him run some place before. At first I couldn’t place him, think as hard as I might, but suddenly I remembered where I’d seen him. It was at a race held about a year ago, and then he had run in the hundred-yard dash with professionals and had come in third.