A hurdle-race is a pretty sight over cinders, but on turf as green and level as a billiard-table it was doubly beautiful.
We could see Fox and Hallowell crouch for the start, and Tomlinson and Parkes bend forward. I did not hear the pistol, so fascinated was I, as the men came away, skimming over the ground like four swallows, and rising over the first row of hurdles as if they had wings.
It is easy to judge a hurdle-race from any angle. All that is necessary is to watch the men rise, for the one that lifts first is certainly ahead. Sometimes a race is won in the "run in," but not often. At the first hurdle the men rose almost together, at the second Parks and Hallowell were a bit late, at the third they were plainly behind, and Paget-Tomlinson was also a bit tardy. From this out, Fox drew ahead all the time, finishing with a burst of speed that put the result entirely out of doubt.
I had just remarked, after the applause had somewhat subsided, that Tomlinson must have been "off form" when the board showed a fifteen and three-fifths, and I revised my conclusion. The "Cantab" had done better time than ever, but Fox had demolished the record.
It was right here that the Colonel received something of a shock, for a little behind us and on our right a young fellow suddenly sprang to his feet, and called out at the top of his voice: "All together now. Three long Harvards, and three times three for Harvard." And then from a hundred throats came "Harvard, Harvard, Harvard, rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah rah, Harvard."
The Colonel confessed to me afterward that his first thought was that some one had gone crazy. "By Jove," said he, "I have heard 'Fuzzy Wuzzy' make some queer noises in my time, but that beats them all."
I explained to him that it was a custom among the American colleges to have a particular cheer to encourage or applaud, but I saw that it took all the Colonel's accumulated enthusiasm to carry him through. It did sound a bit queer on the Queen's Grounds, however it might go on the Soldiers' Field in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
The events now stood three to two in favor of New England, and their chances did look very good to me. They needed but two more wins out of the four remaining, and one of these was the "high jump," which on form was a certainty for them. To be sure, it was whispered that Burke had "gone stale," but I had seen him win so many times when he was plainly not in condition, that I did not count him out. Then, again, there was Boardman in the "quarter," and Yale was "about due," according to Tom.
At the very start of the "half" Struben started out to make pace in a very business-like manner, which the Americans might have copied to advantage. Indeed from first to last they showed little knowledge of this useful accomplishment. That Burke tailed on was a surprise to no one who had seen him run, for with his turn of speed his game is to keep close up and run his man down in the last fifty yards. Yet I did not like the way he took his first step. He seemed dead and in difficulties after the first lap. I heard the little girl behind us declare confidently, "Just wait till Tom Burke reaches the straight."
We did wait, sure enough, but he never came. Graham passed Struben, and finished comfortably in one fifty-seven and one-fifth, with Adams a poor third. The score was now even again, with three to three, and, as Furness declared, he was "beginning to have a touch of 'heart disease.'"