"Ready?"
Lieutenant Steedforth, of the Louisiana, the starter, put the question.
Like greyhounds preparing to leave the leash, the contestants flexed their muscles.
The starter lifted the pistol. A puff of smoke and sharp report followed.
Merritt, Chalmers and Polthew got off at the same instant. They made a showy start, and the grandstand as well as the field buzzed with enthusiasm.
Springer, of the Merrimac, and Carter, of the Kansas, came next. Strong came last, and was almost unnoticed in the frenzy of excitement.
The pace was terrific. In the first twenty-five yards Polthew and Carter dropped behind, hopelessly out of it. Far in front, Merritt, Chalmers and Springer were fighting it grimly out. Springer hung like death on the heels of the two leaders.
Ned had crept up, and kept his pace steadily. Suddenly Springer spurted. This carried him past Chalmers and Merritt, who were about even. But the effort had been made too soon. In a second's time he dropped back again.
The Dreadnought Boy knew that the two tricksters in front were going to concentrate on stopping him if he crept up too soon. So he crawled up till he felt it would be foolish to delay longer. Then, letting out all his reserve power, Ned spurted. His burst of speed was easy and genuine. It was not forced.
In a flash he was abreast of Chalmers before the latter could "pocket" him according to prearranged plans. Merritt, as he saw this, exerted every ounce of strength in his wiry body.