Pillon was no longer in sight to Terry now: only Shores, wobbling on his long, spindly legs, Walt, losing at every stride, and Mullins, ready to drop but still fighting. Still fighting! Why, two could play at that game! After all, thought Terry, he was still there and his legs were still working under him and his breath was still coming! Perhaps if he tried desperately—— There might be time——.
Somehow he reached Shores, ran even with him for an instant and passed him. Then Walt came back to him, slowly but surely. He was running in a dream now, a dream filled with a great noise that seemed to come from very far away, a dream that was a nightmare of leaden limbs and aching lungs and tired body. He felt no triumph when he pulled up to Walt, no exultation when he went past him. He hardly knew that he had done so. His wavering gaze was fixed on the one last form between him and the nearing goal. He knew now that he could never overtake it, but he kept on, doggedly, fighting against exhaustion at every stride. The great noise was louder in his ears but meant nothing to him. A little distance away down that interminable gray path other forms were stretched from rim to rim. When he got there he would be through. That would be wonderful!
Something tried to get in his way and he weakly put out a hand as though to push it aside, but some saving sense, or it may have been utter weakness, prevented, and he let it fall again. He scraped slowly past the obstacle, slowly because the obstacle appeared to be going his way and hung at his elbow for what seemed long minutes, and staggered on. Once his feet got sort of confused and he nearly fell, but he saved himself. He had forgotten Mullins now, everything save his desire to reach that goal, to finish what he had attempted, to come through! And suddenly he was struggling weakly against arms that tried to hold him back, panting, swaying.
“Let me alone!” he gasped. “Let me—finish!”
“You have finished, Terry!” said a voice that was very far away. “You’ve won, you crazy kid!”
So that’s how Terry “came through” and how Maple Park School discovered a new miler. Also how the Blue-and-White won the Dual Meet from Lacon, for Walt Gordon staggered over in fourth place, making the final figures 67 to 65. Walt was never quite the same after that, for his self-esteem had had a pretty severe blow, and as a result he was much more likeable. He must have been, else he and Terry would never have roomed together the next year.