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and stood in shirt-sleeves, breathing hard already, in anticipation of the race. Their bulky forms appeared to great advantage, and excited considerable amusement. Tom Hayden, who was rather the heavier of the two, had encircled his waist with a leather strap, which confined it almost as closely as a young lady's waist. This was by advice of Frank Jones, a young fellow noted as a runner.

      "I don't think I can stand it, Frank," said Hayden, gasping for breath.

      "Oh, yes, you can, Mr. Hayden. You'll see how it will help you."

      "I can hardly breathe. You've got it too tight."

      Frank Jones loosened it a little, and then turned to Morrison.

      "Won't you have a girdle, too, Mr. Morrison?" he asked.

      "Not much. I don't want to be suffocated before I start. Have you made your will, Hayden?"

      "Not yet, I will make it after I have won the prize."

      "Are you ready, gentlemen?" asked Frank Jones, who officiated as starter.

      "As ready as I ever expect to be," answered Hayden, trying to draw a long breath, and failing.

      "Then, start at the word three. One! Two! Three!"

      Amid shouts of applause, the two fat men started. It cannot be said they started like arrows from the bow, but they certainly exerted themselves uncommonly. Their faces grew red with the efforts they made, and their colossal legs hurried over the ground as fast as could reasonably be expected.

      "I could beat them easily," said James Watson.

      "Of course you could. Just wait till you've got as much to carry.

      Look! there's Morrison down!"

      It was true. Somehow one of Morrison's legs entangled with the other, and he tumbled and rolled over and over.

      "Go in and win, Hayden!" shouted fifty voices to his gasping competitor.

      About seventy-five yards remained to be traversed. It look as if Hayden could win the race with opposition. But he was quite out of breath. He pressed both hands on his stomach, stopped, and deliberately sat down on the track.

      "Don't give it up!" yelled the crowd. "Keep on, and the prize is yours!"

      "I can't," gasped Hayden, "and I wouldn't for five times the prize. I don't want it."

      So the prize was not awarded, but the crowd had their fun, and the two fat competitors sat down together to rest under a tree. They did not recover from their efforts for at least an hour.

      "Is there to be a boys' race?" asked Ben.

      "Yes, the boys' race is next in order. You'd better enter."

      "I will," said Ben. "What's the prize?"

      "Five dollars."

      Ben's eyes sparkled.

      "If I could only win it," he thought, "it would be equal to a week's pay at the factory."

      Chapter IV

The Boys' Race

      Ben felt that his chances of winning the prize were very good. Among his schoolmates he was distinguished for his superiority in all athletic sports. He could jump farther and run faster than any of the boys of his age; and this was a ground of hope. On the other hand, he could not tell how many contestants there might be. He had measured himself against the boys of his acquaintance; but there were hundreds of other boys in the city, and among them it was quite possible that there might be one who surpassed him. However, Ben was always hopeful, and determined to do his best to win.

      One of the committee now came forward and announced the boys' race. The distance was to be the same, the prize five dollars, and there was a limitation of age. No boy over seventeen years of age was permitted to enter.

      "Are you going to compete, James?" asked Ben.

      "I guess not. I don't stand any chance against you."

      "I don't know about that. I might stumble or give out."

      "I should like the five dollars well enough."

      "Then enter your name."

      "Well, I will. I may as well try."

      So Ben and James were the first to enter their names.

      "Are you coming in, George?" asked Ben of George Herman.

      "No; I lamed myself in jumping yesterday, and am not in condition; my brother, Frank, is going to enter. Of course he won't stand any chance, for he is too young."

      The next to put down his name was Radford Kelso.

      "You can't run, Radford. You're too fat," said George Cormack.

      "You're as fat as I am," retorted Radford. "I stand as much chance as you."

      Next came Arthur Clark and Frank Jones, both tall and long of limb, and looking as if they might be dangerous rivals. Both were strangers to Ben.

      "I am afraid one of those fellows will outrun me," said Ben, aside, to

      James.

      "They are taller, but perhaps they can't hold out as well."

      "But the course is only two hundred yards," said Ben; "that is against me."

      Just then the announcement was made, on behalf of the committee, that the distance would be increased to three hundred yards, and that there would be a second race of a hundred and fifty yards for boys under fourteen, the prize being two dollars and a half.

      "Frank," said George Herman to his brother, "you had better wait and enter the second race."

      "I think I will and here is Charlie. He can go in, too."

      Edward Kemp, Harry Jones and George Huntingdon next entered their names for the first race. The list was about to be declared complete, when an active, well-made youth advanced, and expressed a wish to compete. He had just reached the grounds, and learned that a race was to be run. He gave his name as John Miles, from Boston.

      "Who is he, George? Do you know him?" asked Ben.

      "I believe he is visiting some friends in Milltown."

      "He looks as if he might run."

      "He is well made for running. The question is, has he had any training."

      "That's going to decide the matter."

      "Take your places, boys!"

      At the order, the contestants, whose names have already been given, took their places in line.

      John Miles glanced carelessly and rather contemptuously at his rivals.

      "I'll show them how to run," he said.

      "You are very kind," said Frank Jones, who stood next to him. "We never saw anybody run, you know."

      "I have practiced running in a gymnasium," said Miles pompously.

      "Running is the same all the world over."

      "Perhaps it is; but I run on scientific principles."

      Frank Jones laughed.

      "You are very condescending to run with us, then."

      "Oh, I go in for all the fun I can get."

      "I suppose you expect to win the prize?"

      "Of course I do. Who is there to prevent? You don't pretend to run, do you?"

      "Well, I've always supposed I could run a little, though I have never run in a gymnasium; but there are better runners here than I. That boy" – pointing to Ben – "is said to be a good runner."

      "He!" said John Miles contemptuously. "Why, I'm a head taller than he. He's a mere baby."

      "Well, we shall see."

      Time was called, and the signal to start was given.

      The boys started almost simultaneously; Arthur Clark was fastening a girdle about his waist, and that delayed him a little. For a few rods all the boys kept pretty well together. Then three gradually drew away from the rest. These three were John Miles, Frank Jones, and Ben Bradford. Arthur Clark was just

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