Agricultural Society's prize two years ago."

"I believe Tim will beat him," said Cameron confidently, with his eyes
upon the two in front.

"Beat nothing!" said Webster. "You just wait a bit, Perkins isn't
letting himself out yet."

In a short time Tim finished his drill some distance ahead, and then,
though it was quitting time, without a pause he swung into the next.

"Hello, Timmy!" cried Perkins good-naturedly, "going to work all night,
eh? Well, I'll just take a whirl out of you," and for the first time he
frankly threw himself into his racing gait.

"Good boy, Tim!" called out Cameron, as Tim bore down upon them, still
in the lead and going like a small steam engine. "You're all right and
going easy. Don't worry!"

But Perkins, putting on a great spurt, drew up within a hoe-handle
length of Tim and there held his place.

"All right, Tim, my boy, you can hold him," cried Cameron, as the racers
came down upon him.

"He can, eh?" replied Perkins. "I'll show him and you," and with an
accession of speed he drew up on a level with Tim.

"Ah, ha! Timmy, my boy! we've got you where we want you, I guess," he
exulted, and, with a whoop and still increasing his speed, he drew past
the boy.

But Cameron, who was narrowly observing the combatants and their work,
called out again:

"Don't worry, Tim, you're doing nice clean work and doing it easily."
The inference was obvious, and Perkins, who had been slashing wildly and
leaving many blanks and weeds behind him where neither blanks nor weeds
should be, steadied down somewhat, and, taking more pains with his work,
began to lose ground, while Tim, whose work was without flaw, moved
again to the front place. There remained half a drill to be done and the
issue was still uncertain. With half the length of a hoe handle between
them the two clicked along at a furious pace. Tim's hat had fallen off.
His face showed white and his breath was coming fast, but there was no
slackening of speed, and the cleanness and ease with which he was doing
his work showed that there was still some reserve in him. They were
approaching the last quarter when, with a yell, Perkins threw himself
again with a wild recklessness into his work, and again he gained upon
Tim and passed him.

"Steady, Tim!" cried Cameron, who, with Webster, had given up their own
work, it being, as the latter remarked, "quitting time anyway," and
were following up the racers. "Don't spoil your work, Tim!" contin