“The first leap is yours, Master Dexter. See you set us a good lead.”
I leapt, scarcely thinking what I did, and leapt badly; for though one by one the others failed to reach it, Will Peake reached it, and lit in my very footprints.
“A match again!” cried everyone, “and a close match, too!”
The gallant had made up to her again, and was tormenting her sweet ear once more with his whispers. She stood rigid like a statue with her eyes before her, showing only by the heaving of her bosom that she was aware of his unwelcome presence.
“You keep us waiting, lad,” cried the alderman. “Jump, unless you mean to yield the victory to your adversary.”
I jumped, listlessly again, and again alighted within an inch of my former distance. And once again, Will Peake landed in my very hoof-marks.
“A mortal match!” cried the crowd.
“One leap more,” said the alderman, “and if that does not decide—”
He was there still, and, worse than before, had caught the little hand that hung at her side in his. The colour had gone from her face. I saw that she bit her lips, and for one moment her eyes looked up appealingly and, so it seemed to me, met mine.
Then with my heart swelling big within me, I walked to the starting-point, and ran for my last leap.