Cinder Path Tales

88 CINDER-PATH TALES I can see Paddy as he looked that night, with his foot on the mark, hishand out, and straining for the start. He wore a checked gingham shirt, moleskin trousers rolled up to the knees, and his arms and head were bare. I can see too his flushed face, with its look of determination and confidence. The good old Celtic blood was at fever heat, and had it been a fight I should have backed him for a winner; but witha runner like Tom Furness, and giving twenty-five, hischance was none at all. The sun was low, and the air so still it hardly stirred the longbranches of the elms; in fact, the smoke of the pistol rose almost straight above the starter's head. Paddy was not a good one to steal on the pistol, and he lost a half-second at least. Then he gave a leap and was off, showing the most astonishing gait that ever circled a track. He had not taken a dozen strides before he had earned the titlehe will carry to his grave of " Paddy the Leaper." Noth­ ing likeit have I ever seen. Perhaps akan­ garoo indistress may show a style resembling it, but surely nothing else that walks on two legs. It wasa series of leaps, theright legstep­ ping short, the left long, the arms jerking, and the head bobbing in unison, — a " steady-