“Jiminy crickets!” Richards’ companion exclaimed in a moment. “You’re deuced sudden, Chester, I must say.”
And Richards’ manner promptly grew conciliatory.
“Old man,” he said, smiling, “you really ought to train. You’ve got form––by George, you have! Besides, you wouldn’t have any opposition to speak of, you know.”
Richards was still smiling; but a smile, however warmly encouraged from within, is apt to take cold in a frost. The casual glance with 378 which Chester took in the young man, from his light sprinting-pumps to his eyes, may be accurately described as frigid. Not until he had held the other’s embarrassed look for an appreciable pause did he deign to speak.
“There really ought to be,” he said without emotion, “at least one man in the field. I think I shall train.”
Thus it came about that “Lord” Chester decided to enter athletics. Five minutes previously even the thought had not occurred to him; but he wasn’t the man to quail before a bluff.
The track management of this particular university was an oligarchy; was governed by a few absolute individuals. Perhaps such a condition is not as rare as might be supposed. However that may be, it was here a case of being either “in” or “out.” Chester was unpopular, and from the first had been out.
There were only four entries for the running events, the same names appearing in all; so he could not be kept from the field. But he well knew that various ways existed by which favoritism could be shown, and that these preferences, 379 too trifling in themselves to warrant complaint, might prove a serious handicap in a close contest. He knew that, however honors might lie among the other entries, they would hesitate at nothing to prevent him from taking a place. In fact, Richards openly boasted that he would pocket “’is ludship” at the finish.
So Chester shaped his plans accordingly. He had never aimed at the impossible, nor did he now. He withdrew from all short-distance runs and yard dashes, and concentrated his mind upon the Marathon––thus dignified, although the faculty would permit nothing more arduous than two miles.
In saying trained, everything is meant that the word can be made to imply: the sort of hour in, hour out, to-the-limit-of-endurance training which either makes or kills. A fortnight before Field Day Chester was in perfect condition, and had his capabilities gauged to a nicety. He was now entered only in the Marathon; they virtually had forced him from the half-mile, and they should be made to pay the penalty.