track they parted, the former seeking out the dressing room, and the
latter securing a seat in the grand stand.

Bert got into his racing togs immediately, and his comrades left him and
walked out to secure seats for themselves. This was soon done, and they
settled themselves, waiting as best they could for the start.

The stand and field filled rapidly until at last, when the gates were
closed, every available space was occupied by a tightly packed, expectant
throng. Suddenly a whistle blew and a few seconds afterward the runners
walked out and proceeded to draw lots for the choice of position. Bert
drew third from the inside rail, Jed Barnes second, and Johnson secured
the best place next to the rail.

"That makes a rather bad handicap for Bert," said Tom anxiously. "I wish
he could have gotten a better position."

"Oh, well, it might be worse," said Dick, but it must be confessed he was
a little worried also. Johnson was a well-built athlete, and seemed to be
in the best of condition. Dick recalled that Bert had not gone through
any special training, and was assailed with misgivings. However, he had
not long to wait. The runners took their places, and the starter raised
his pistol in the air.

"Get set!" he called, and amid a breathless silence the racers crouched
over, their fingers barely touching the ground.

Crack! went the pistol, and amid a roar from the spectators the five
athletes sprang ahead as though released from a catapult. Elbows pressed
against their sides, heads up, they made a thrilling picture, and the