1705040133
1705040134
Andrew nodded again. Of course it was a foregone conclusion that only Redbrooke and Brewster were in the race. No one had a thought for him.
1705040135
1705040136
The others began to arrive. Andrew stripped off his sweater. Again he was premature. The others waited. All were silent now.
1705040137
1705040138
Redbrooke was strolling across the ground with one of the officials. He looked up and broke into a brisk trot.
1705040139
1705040140
The air still freshened Andrew’s face. Across the ground he could hear the murmur of the crowd. A paper boy was shouting.
1705040141
1705040142
Still none of the runners spoke. In silence, one by one, they took off blazers and sweaters. The well-known colors of Brewster’s club appeared—a red and black band round the chest. Redbrooke cantered up unconcerned.
1705040143
1705040144
“Sorry,” he said, and emerged from his blazer in Achilles Club colors. Andrew glanced at his plain white things, longer and tighter than Redbrooke’s.
1705040145
1705040146
The runners eyed each other as they took their places on the track. Redbrooke was a shade taller than Andrew and perfectly formed. His corn-colored hair was a disheveled crop, paler in hue than the tan of his face. His limbs flashed with youth and strength. His poise was quick as flame.
1705040147
1705040148
No wonder he can run, thought Andrew. He must win.
1705040149
1705040150
“I shall say on your marks—set—and then fire.”
1705040151
1705040152
At last, thought Andrew. His heart was beating in his throat now.
1705040153
1705040154
A second toiled by.
1705040155
1705040156
Andrew dropped to his knee for a sprinting start.
1705040157
1705040158
“Set!”
1705040159
1705040160
His knee quivered up from the track. It was toes and knuckles now, a balance quivering with tautness.
1705040161
1705040162
Crash.
1705040163
1705040164
Scurry. Shoulders jostling. Mind out.
1705040165
1705040166
Andrew shot clear, going at top speed. He swung into the inside place. So far so good. He’d got his inside place, and the lead too. Was he to make the running? He settled down to a stride, fast but easy.
1705040167
1705040168
He breathed calmly through his nose. Although the race had started he still felt very nervous—an exhilarating nervousness now. He saw each blade of grass where out turf edge met track. A groundsman set down a whitewash pail.
1705040169
1705040170
Andrew realized he was cutting out too fast a pace. He swung into a slower stride. So far all had gone according to plan, and he began to take courage.
1705040171
1705040172
As they approached the pavilion for the first time and the second long corner of the race, he found Perry was creeping up on his outside. Andrew was surprised and a little worried. In all the half miles he had run before the pace he had set would have assured him the lead. He decided to make no effort, and Perry passed stride by stride and dropped into the lead. Andrew continued at his own pace, and a gap of a yard or two opened.
1705040173
1705040174
As they came on to the bend there was a sudden sputter of feet and Andrew found that Brewster had filled the gap. Others were coming up and he realized that the whole field was moving faster than he was. He quickened up slightly and swung out tentatively to pass Brewster again. Before he could pass, the corner was reached. He at least knew better than to run on the outside round the curve; so he slackened again to pull back into the inside. But in the very thought of doing so, the runner behind closed smoothly and swiftly up to Brewster, and Andrew saw that Redbrooke had got his inside berth. Andrew had to take the curve on the outside. “Blinking fool” he told himself.
1705040175
1705040176
Old Jones and one or two other experienced runners in the crowd caught each other’s eyes for a moment; the rest of the audience had no notion of the little display of bad technique that Andrew had given.
1705040177
1705040178
So they went round the long curve. Perry in the lead and still pressing the pace; Brewster second, with no very clear notion of what the pace ought to be, and determined not to lose Perry; Redbrooke keeping wisely within striking distance, and Andrew bunched uncomfortably on the outside of Redbrooke with two others.
1705040179
1705040180
By the time they came out of the long bend and completed the first half of the race Andrew was thoroughly rattled. Never had he felt such a strain at this stage of a half mile. Already it was difficult to get enough air; he was no longer breathing evenly through his nose. Already a numbing weakness was creeping down the front of his thighs. Hopeless now to think of gaining ground. With relief he found he was able to drop into the inside again behind Redbrooke. They had now been running for about one minute—it seemed an age. Could he possibly stick to it for another period, as long again? The long stretch of straight in front of him, the long sweep of curve at the end of the ground that only brought you at the beginning of the finishing straight. Then the sprint. Already he felt he could not find an ounce of sprint.
1705040181
1705040182
Pace by pace he stuck to it watching Redbrooke’s feet.
[
上一页 ]
[ :1.705040133e+09 ]
[
下一页 ]