"Yes," said I, "I cannot remember a contest in which there was so little jockeying in the preliminaries. They were conducted in the most liberal manner on both sides, and many concessions were made. One of the best illustrations is the 'hurdle race,' which will be run over turf, as is the custom here, while the hurdles will be movable, as is usual in America."
"That is the true spirit of amateur sport," said the Colonel, "and is a mighty fine thing, whichever wins."
Now I must confess that at this moment I found myself in a very peculiar state of mind. I was not sure which team I preferred to carry off the odd event. This was very unusual for me, as I am always something of a partisan, and cannot see two little chaps running a barefooted race along the street without picking a favorite, being a bit pleased if he wins and disappointed if he loses. But to-day there was on one side the country of my birth and on the other that of my adoption, and between them I was utterly unable to choose. So evenly did they draw upon my sentiment that I made up my mind I should be satisfied either way, and meanwhile I could enjoy myself without prejudice.
"There's the jumpers," suddenly cried out little Billy, whose quick eye had first discovered them emerging from the crowd that fringed the track in front of the dressing-rooms. Sure enough, there were Daly and Roche in their crimson sweaters looking over the ground. The former carefully paced off his distance from the joist and marked his start, and as he did so, Vassall and Beven appeared, sporting respectively the dark and light blue, and shook hands with their opponents.
"Who is the favorite here?" inquired the Colonel.
"Oh, Vassall will win in a walk," answered Tom.
At this the Colonel was entirely at sea.
"But," said he, "I did not think there was to be a walk at all," examining his programme carefully. Then catching Tom's meaning, he continued, "You mean he wins easily? Well, I'm glad of that. I should like to see one first at least pulled off by the old college."