The professor handed back the sheet of paper and put his hand on Allan’s shoulder.
“Good,” he said, with satisfaction. “Go in and win, Ware.”
He pushed him toward where the long-distance men were assembling at the start. Allan waited for no more, but darted down the track. As he reached the group, his name was called and he answered as he slipped into the second line of runners. The next instant Stearns was pulling him aside, his eyes wide with eagerness.
“Is it all right?” he whispered. “Did you get word?”
“Yes, a minute ago. I’ve seen Nast.”
Stearns gave him a hug that left him almost breathless.
“Thank goodness!” he said, softly. “The meet’s tied at 54 points. The whole thing depends on this, and we’ve got to have first place, Ware, we’ve got to! Watch that man Burns over there; the tall chap with the tow hair; he’s dangerous. And— Say, Billy,” turning to the trainer, who had slipped across the track to them, “Ware’s in it, after all. I was telling him to——”
“Get the lead at the start, or as soon as you can, and just simply hold it, if you have to break a leg,” said Billy, quietly. “How are you feeling?”
“I—I don’t know,” answered Allan. “But—I guess I’m all right.”