Cinder Path Tales

QUEERED THE "MILE" 77 better in competition than in training, but Black was likely to do no worse (unless pulled back by the sodas), andwith a strong five seconds tothe good, it was a beautiful race to guess on. " Marks ! Set!" The bang of the pistol, with its little wreath ofsmoke rising in the still air, and they areoff. "Crunch, crunch, crunch" sound the quick feet on the cinders, a stout fellow, not half trained, taking the lead, and bound to drop out before the " half," unless I am no judge. They dis­ appear a second behind the catcher's fence, emerge again, swinground the turn, straighten out again, and the men are well trailed, as usual, at the lower turn. Down the stretch they come,and just before they pass the posts Black jumps into the lead, amid the applause of the grand stand. Where is Jack? Why, wherehe ought to be with the pace like this, and three-quarters more to run. He has followed my orders to the dot, starting off easily (one of the almost impossible things to teach a young runner), trailing behind the field, and he fin­ ishes the first quarter last of the six, anda full twenty yards behind Black, running strong and well, though not so showily as his rival. I see poor little Kitty's face grow white and hopeless asthey goby.