“Yes, I’m all right again,” was the answer. “In fact I think I’m better than I was. Shall I do the whole distance?”
“No, try a half at first. Then, after you warm up, go the limit. We’ll ‘clock’ you.”
As Tom sped over the cinder track for the half mile run, he felt within himself a confidence that he had not been conscious of before.
“I believe that fit of sickness did me good,” he reflected. “It rested me up, at any rate.” When he had come to the finish mark, and the time was announced, it was two seconds better than he had ever done before.
“Now for the mile,” suggested Kindlings. “But take a little rest.”
“No, I’ll go at something else,” decided Tom. “I don’t want to get stiff.” So he did a little work at putting the shot, jumped over a few hurdles, tried some high and broad leaping, and then announced that he was ready for the mile test.
Quite a throng gathered about the track to watch Tom at his practice, and he felt not a little nervousness as he got on his mark.
“Go,” shouted Kindlings, as he fired the pistol, and Tom was off with some of the other candidates, who were in more to fill up, and make a showing for Randall than because they, or their friends, hoped they would win. And yet there was always the one chance.
Tom got off in good shape on the half mile track, two circuits of which were necessary to make the required distance.
“He certainly can go,” observed Holly Cross, who, with Kindlings, and some other kindred spirits, was watching the test.