“Powers?”
“All right, sir.”
“Hill?”
“That should be Hull, sir,” said Lanny.
“Hull?”
“Here, sir,” replied Perry, joining the others.
“That’s all, then, Mr. Starter. Only four.”
“Are you all ready, boys?” asked the starter. “On your marks! Hold on there, Number 7! Don’t try that or you’ll get set back. On your marks!... Set!...”
The pistol banged and the four jumped away. Perry, on the outer side of the straightaway, was in his stride the first of the three and, halfway down the track, shot a side-long look at the others. Lanny was not in sight, but the nearer Springdale youth was a yard or so behind and the further one running about even. As the first three were to be placed, Perry slowed up and took it easy, finishing a close third. Half way down the track Lanny was being helped over the strings to the turf. Perry, turning back, heard a timer say laughingly: “Fast time, Jim; ten and four-fifths!” Lanny was seated on the turf ruefully holding his injured knee when Perry reached him.
“I’m sorry, Lanny,” he said. “Did you fall?”