Cinder Path Tales

A VIRGINIA JUMPER 163 quarters inch to their credit. All seemed over but the shouting when Dick walked slowly down the cinder-pathfor his last trial. No applause did he get either, exceptfrom the gloved hands, formen do not like to see an athlete without determination, no matter how well they maylike him in society. As he walked down the path, I followed along a little behind him on the turf. I waited until he put his hand out, in exact accordance with instructions, and then I handed him his mother's message. He looked at me a moment with surprise, then took the black-bordered note and broke the seal. He read it hastily, and the color left his face as if a mortal fear had stricken him. Into his eyes there came first a far-away look, then one of the fiercest determination. He crumpled the note in his left hand, faced around for his sprint, and was off like a flash. I watched the lithe figure and followed it, but Dick had landed long before I reached the joist. He had caught the timber much as he had done on the April morning, and had thrown hisknees high as before. I saw him cut the air, andmy heart came into my mouth as I thought of a win and a broken record both. But it was not to be. I saw him land in the end of the box, far beyond