Cinder Path Tales

ATHERTON'S LAST "HALF" 121 looking very white and serious; but I said nothing atall to hearten him, for I knew he was clear grit and did not want it, I did tell him that therace wasmore in his hands than Bates',and that from those who knew he would receive all the credit of a win, if he brought Bates in first. He said not a word in answer, only nodded his head, threw me his wrap, andwent to the mark. As the numbers werebeing called,I had a chance to look around me. There wasthe usual crowd inside the ring, the officials, the reporters, and those infernal nuisances the men with a pull, who do nothing, and interfere with all who have duties to per­ form. The grand stand was right in front of me, spread like the tail of a huge peacock, anda perfect riot of color, forevery second person was a lady, andwhat better opportunity than this to wear what wasloud and bright? As my eye wandered over the crowd, I began to pick out familiar faces, for I have a keen sight for a friend. There wasJack Hart andTom Finlay, two of my old boys, sitting together, one of them from Denver, and the other professor in a Maine college; there wasDr. Gordena bit lower, and Fred Tillotson with his pretty wife; there wasCharlie Thomaswith a little