"It's an even hundred yards," the trainer explained to Bailly.
As George paused at the end of the stand the trainer snapped his watch, whistling.
"There are lots with running shoes and drawers wouldn't do any better. Let's have him back."
He waved his arm. George tore up and leant against the railing, breathing hard, but not uncomfortably.
"You were a full second slower coming back," the trainer said with a twinkle.
"I'm sorry," George cried. "Let me try it again."
Green shook his head.
"I'd rather see you make a tackle, but I've no one to spare."
He grinned invitation at Bailly.
"My spirit, Green," the tutor said, "is less fragile than my corpus, but it has some common-sense. I prefer others should perish at the hands of my discoveries."