with their knives.

* * * * *

"Now, Gregory, you've just got to take the mile away from Learoyd ...
he's a junior ... you've just _got_ to!... besides, if you don't ...
there's Flammer has lost the broad jump ... and we won't win the class
banner after all."

Learoyd was a smallish, golden-faced, downy-headed boy ... almost an
albino.... I had seen him run ... he ran low to the ground, in flashes,
like some sort of shore-bird.

* * * * *

In the class-tent, alone. Dunn had driven my class out, where they had
been massaging and kneading my legs ... which trembled and tottered
under me, from the excessive use they had already undergone.

I sat down and put my head between my knees, and groaned. Then I
straightened out my right leg and rubbed it, because a cramp was
knotting it.

"Hello, Gregory!"

The tent-flap opened. The athletic director poked his head in.

"Come on, Gregory, we're waiting for you."

"Wait a minute, Smythe ... I want to pray," I replied simply. Reverently