Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner

Flyin

s, as the three athletes, running like deer, swun

eserved for the wind-up. It was a modified Marathon of fifteen miles and the fastest runners in the East had entered

fferent events-pole vaulting, hammer throwing, broad and high jumping-had been bitterly contested, and the victories had been only a ma

o they kept a fairly compact formation; but then the line began to lengthen. Some through weariness, others through craftiness, fell to the rear and let the others make the pace. By the time five miles had been covered, the sifting process began. Brawn and wind

egged their favorites to come on and win. Old "grads" worked themselves into a state bordering on apoplexy, while pretty girls waved their flags and join

nd broad chest that mark the thoroughbred. To the ordinary observer he seemed to be out of it, in view of the gap that separated him from the two leaders. An expert, howev

ot by foot he overtook the men in front. They knew from the startled roar of their partisans that he was coming, they heard the rushing feet behind them, and they called on every ounce of strength they had for a last desperate effort. For a moment th

a twinkling they hoisted him on their shoulders and carried him about the track while their college songs went booming down the field. They fairly f

rt was in me mouth when the fellows were showing you the way to the tape. But I kept saying to myself: 'He'll know when the time comes to let himself out,' and

never felt worried myself for a minute. I was sure I had the other fellows' number as soon as I cared to let go. I could see that they'd s

hornton looked like a ghost. But you're as fine as silk and haven't turned a hair. Ye look as though ye

know when I have enough. But now for the shower, Reddy,

he clubhouse only to run the gauntlet of the enthusiasts who had been waiting for him at the

hey queried and the answer came in

c strain was beginning to make itself felt. But his heart was filled with exultation. He had fought fiercely. He had fought fairly. And he had fought victoriously. He had won glory for

etch. You didn't have legs; they were wings. Just as the other

w you did it after running fifteen miles is beyond me. By George, I wish I had timed you

rady were certainly running some. I looked for them to crack before they did. If they'd had the least bit in reserve, they might have made it hot for me. But they'd killed themselves off in making the pace. I just kep

will see the day they can outrun you. It's you for the Olympic team all right

e isn't a fellow who saw you run to-day that wouldn't bac

got to come up against the Western bunch and if all I hear is true they are going 'great guns' in practice. Then too they grow some speedy sprinter

, won't we Dick? Didn't Thornton hold the American record up t

't have been his

n't. Suppose we say it was Bert Wi

Dangers that might have daunted the stoutest heart he had met without quailing. His physical prowess was beyond dispute. He was a typical athlete, strong, quick, muscular, and a natural leader in all manly sports. In most of them he stood he

they never questioned his nerve. He faced life with eyes wide open and unafraid. He stood on his own feet, asking no odds and seeking no advantage. He never quit. There was no "yellow streak" in him anywhere. To-day had

that thrilling automobile race it was Bert's hand on the wheel that had steered the Red Scout to its glorious victory over the Gray Ghost, its redoubtable rival. In that last heart-breaking game when the "Blues" captured the championship of the college diamond, it was Bert's masterly pitching of his great 'fadeaway' ball that snatched victory from defeat before twenty thousand frenzied rooters. Only a few months before, when acting as wireless operator on tha

had been under while preparing for the race, Tom came into the rooms

dropped into a chair. "I suppose you want to hit the feath

big supper that I'm doing the anaconda stunt, just now. I'm full and therefore ha

he fellows are talking of nothing else than the race this afternoon. The whole place is buzzin

this Olympic idea get its start anyw

chman I believe-de Coubertin or so

on and all that, but somehow or other they bring to mind high heels and frock coats and waxed mustaches and button hole bouquets. The

there is anything weak or cowardly about the French. There are no finer fighters in the world. They go to their death as gaily

serted Dick. "They're something like o

sand and ging

lly shammin' wh

0. But that wasn't due to any lack of courage on their part. Both sides fought

he idea that his people needed building up physically. It was shy on brawn and muscle. At first he had only the French in mind, but soon his plans

old the first me

wild over it. They gave him all sorts of presents. Some were of great value; others were simply comical. A tailor gave him a suit of clothes. A barber promised him free shaves for life. A restaurant gave him a dinner every day for a year and another volunteere

what made him wi

up any," agreed Tom, "y

ntry, in St. Louis, in 1904. But whether held here or abroad, your Uncle Sam has been on deck

ed Dick. "We're seldom far behind wh

games learn to like and respect each other. When they once get together they'r

ieties you hear so much about. It's bound to make us understand each other better. S

ith a glance at Bert,