. "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 behind, but his loss at the start
put him at a disadvantage.

When the race was half over, John Miles led, while, fifteen feet
behind, Ben Bradford and Frank Jones were doing their best to
overtake him. John Miles wore upon his face the complacent smile
of assured victory.

At two hundred yards, Frank and Ben had partially closed the gap
between themselves and John Miles. Intent though he was on his
own progress, Ben had leisure to observe that Miles was beginning
to lose ground. It seemed clear that he was inferior to Ben in
sustained power.

"There is hope for me yet," thought Ben. "I am not in the least tired.
Toward the end I will put on a spurt, and see if I can't snatch the
victory from him."

"Go in and win!" exclaimed Frank Jones. "You're got more wind
than I. Don't let a stranger carry off the prize."

"Not if I can help it," said Ben.

He was now but four feet behind John, and there were fifty yards to
be run.

For the first time, John Miles became apprehensive. He turned his
head sufficiently to see that the boy whom he had considered
beneath his notice was almost at his heels.

"I can't let a baby like that beat me," he said to himself, and he
tried to increase the distance by a spurt. He gained a temporary
advantage, but lost more in the end, for the attempt exhausted his
strength, and compelled him to slacken his speed farther on.

Twenty yards from the goal the two rivals were neck and neck.

"Now for my spurt!" said Ben to himself.

He gathered himself up, and darted forward with all the strength that
was in him. He gained six feet upon his rival, which the latter tried
in vain to make up.

The excitement was intense. Popular sympathy was with Ben. He
was known to be a Milltown boy, while John Miles was a stranger.

"Put on steam, Milltown!" shouted the crowd.

"Hurrah for Boston!" called out two personal friends of John Miles.

Ben crossed the line seven feet in advance of John, amid shouts of
applause.

Frank Jones came in an ea