ance, and found that at last he could take a long breath again. "I'm sorry about Kirke," he said rather vaguely.
"Are you?" gasped a voice behind him. "So'm I, but glad you won, Perry!" It was Kirke himself. Perry shook hands with him and then others pushed around for the same purpose; Lawrence and Gedge of Springdale, and Arthur Beaton and Toby Sears and several others, and, finally, Skeet, Skeet with puzzled admiration written large on his thin face.
"I never knew you had it in you, Hull!" he declared, wringing Perry's hand. "Kid, you made a fine finish! I thought it was all over ten yards from the tape, and then, bing!—you left him standing! But don't stay around here and get stiff. Beat it to the shower!"
"Wait! What's the score, please?"
"Oh, they're fifty-two and a half to our forty-six and a half. Cap got first in the pole-vault, but Mander wasn't placed. They've got the meet, all right, but we made 'em fight for it!"
"Fifty-two?" repeated Perry, puzzled. "But don't they have to have more than fifty-four to win?"
"Yes, the hammer-throw isn't finished yet. They'll get three in that, anyhow."
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