Without another word Bertie got up and joined the host of boys who were preparing to run. There were probably a hundred, and the directors of the sports had considerable difficulty in arranging a fair start. The race was confined to the bigger ones; there were no starts allowed, and they were all supposed to start from the same line. But the competitors had not the nicest sense of honour, and each endeavoured to steal a yard from his friend. Finally they were got into something like a proper line.
The distance to be run was about two hundred yards. The course was not a very regular one, as some were up the hill, and some were down; the breadth of the level ground was not sufficient to contain them all. Two persons stood in a line to mark the winning-post, and between them they stretched a cord. The one on the right held the shilling in a bag.
Several false starts were made. In their anxiety to be first the competitors could not manage to stand still. Half a dozen times they broke away, and had to be called back again. At last they were off. The course was from the park and towards the road, the winning-post being about a dozen yards from the school house at the gate.
The race was short, and, so far as the majority of the competitors were concerned, by no means sharp. Quite a third were out of it in the first six yards; half the remainder were beaten in a dozen, and before half the distance was covered there were only four or five who had a chance of winning. Among these was Bailey. He was not over fast on his feet as a rule, but never had the inducement to make the best possible speed been so strong before. He was running for his dinner, and, for all he knew, his tea and supper too.
In the last fifty yards the race resolved itself into a struggle of three. In front was a tall, lanky boy, who, so far as length of limb was concerned, ought to have left the others at the post. But his condition was not equal to his build; he went puffing and panting along. Obviously it would take him all he knew to last it out. About a couple of yards behind him, and almost side by side with Bertie, was a slightly-built lad, who was straining every nerve to keep his place. The freshest of the three was Bailey.
Yet the lanky youth looked like winning. He lumbered and blundered along, but his long legs enabled him to cover at a single stride the ground which they had to take two steps to cover. The boy by Bertie's side had just given up the struggle with a gasp, when the lanky lad caught his foot in a hole and went headlong to the ground. Like a flash Bertie put on a spurt and dashed victorious in. The prize-holder held out the leather bag, and Bertie caught it as he passed.
But the lanky youth, disappointed in his expectations, having puffed himself for nothing, beheld the reward of his endeavours snatched from his grasp with a burning sense of injury. Struggling to his feet he gave his emotions words.
"It ain't fair! Who's he? He ain't one of us! He's a stranger!"
Instantly the words were caught up by a host of disappointed competitors.
"He's a stranger! What's he want running races along with us? and winning of the prizes?"