There were but two more events on the program—the mile run and the running broad jump. Randall needed both of these to win, for, should Exter annex one, and either of the other colleges the other it would mean that the championship would be lost to the wearers of the maroon and yellow.
“Now Tom, it’s up to you,” said Dan in a low voice as the runners came out on their marks. “Are you all right—feel nervous or anything?”
“No, I’m not nervous. I want to win, Dan, but if I don’t——”
“It won’t be from lack of trying,” was the reply. “Go on Tom, they’re waiting for you.”
But, in spite of the fact that Tom had said he was not nervous there was an unusual thumping of his heart. He tried to calm himself, but, the more he did so, the worse he seemed to get.
“Oh, hang it! This won’t do!” he mused. “If Frank was running this race, he wouldn’t be like this. I must think that I’m doing this for him. Brace up! Even Shambler wouldn’t flunk.”
Tom felt better after that little lecture to himself by himself, and when he glanced across toward the grandstands, and saw a slim girlish figure suddenly spring up, and wave his colors at him, he felt a surge of elation and delight.
“That’s Madge!” whispered Tom to himself. “I’m going to win! I’m going to win! For Randall and—her!”
The runners were in their places. The starter had raised his pistol. Tom, for the first time, noticed that on his left was Langridge—his old enemy. Langridge had seen Miss Tyler’s action, and he smiled mockingly at our hero.
“I’m going to win!” Tom told himself over and over again.