THE RACE
The Cordyce Steel Mills stood a little aside from the city ofGreenfield, as if they were a little too good to associate with commonfactories. James Henry Cordyce sat in a huge leather chair in hisprivate office. He was a man nearly sixty years of age whose dark brownhair was still untouched by gray. He had rather hard lines around hismouth, but softer ones around his eyes. Printed on the ground-glass topof his door were these words in black and gold:
J. H. CORDYCE--President _Private_
Once a year J. H. Cordyce allowed himself a holiday. If he had aweakness, it was for healthy boys--boys running without their hats, boysjumping, boys throwing rings, boys swimming, boys vaulting with a longpole. And in company with three other extremely rich men he arranged,once a year, a Field Day for the town of Intervale. The men attended itin person, and supplied all the money. This was Field Day.
All through the spring and early summer months, boys were in trainingfor miles around, getting ready for Intervale's Field Day. And not onlyboys, but men also, old and young, and girls of all ages into thebargain. Prizes were offered for tennis, baseball, rowing, swimming,running, and every imaginable type of athletic feat. But usually theinterest of the day centered on a free-for-all race of one mile, whicheveryone enjoyed, and a great many people entered. A prize oftwenty-five dollars was offered to the winner of this race, and also asilver trophy cup with little wings on its handles. Sometimes this cupwas won by a middle-aged man, sometimes by a girl, and sometimes by atrained athlete. Mr. Cordyce smiled about his eyes as he closed hisdesk, ordered his limousine, and went out and locked the door of hisoffice. The mill had been closed down for the day. Everyone attendedField Day.
Henry was washing the concrete drives at Dr. McAllister's at thismoment. He heard the doctor call to him from the road, so he promptlyturned off the hose and ran out to see what was wanted.
"Hop in," commanded the doctor, not stopping his engine. "You ought togo to see the stunts at the athletic meet. It's Field Day."
Henry did not wish to delay the doctor, so he "hopped in."
"Can't go myself," said Dr. McAllister. "I'll just drop you at thegrounds. There's no charge for admittance. You just watch all the eventsand report to me who wins."
Henry tried to explain to his friend that he ought to be working, butthere was actually no time. And when he found himself seated on thebleachers and the stunts began, he forgot everything in the world exceptthe exciting events before his eyes.
Henry had no pencil, but he had an excellent memory. He repeated overand over, the name of each winner as it appeared on the huge signboard.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when the free-for-all running race wasannounced.
"What do they mean--free-for-all?" asked Henry of a small boy at hisside.
"Why, just anybody," explained the boy, curiously. "Didn't you ever seeone? Didn't you see the one last year?"
"No," said Henry.
The boy laughed. "That was a funny one," he said. "There was a collegerunner in it, and a couple of fat men, and some girls--lots of people.And the little colored boy over there won it. You just ought to haveseen that boy run! He went so fast you couldn't see his legs. Beat thecollege runner, you know."
Henry gazed at the winner of last year's race. He was smaller thanHenry, but apparently older. In a few minutes Henry had quietly left hisplace on the bleachers. When the boy turned to speak to him again, hewas gone.
He had gone, in fact, to the dressing room, where boys of all sizes wereputting on sandals and running trunks.
A man stepped up to him quickly.
"Want to enter?" he asked. "No time to waste."
"Yes," replied Henry.
The man tossed him a pair of white shoes and some blue trunks. He likedthe look of Henry's face as he paused to ask in an undertone, "Where didyou train?"
"Never trained," replied Henry.
"I suppose you know these fellows have been training all the year?"observed the man. "You don't expect to win?"
"Oh, no!" replied Henry, apparently shocked at the idea. "But it's lotsof fun to run, you know." He was dressed and ready by this time. Howlight he felt! He felt as if he could almost fly. Presently thecontestants were all marshalled out to the running track. Henry wasNumber 4.
Now, Henry had never been trained to run, but the boy possessed anunusual quantity of common sense. "It's a mile race," he thought tohimself, "and it's the second half mile that counts." So it happenedthat this was the main thought in his mind when the starter's gongsounded and the racers shot away down the track. In almost no time,Henry was far behind the first half of the runners. But strangelyenough, he did not seem to mind this greatly.
"It's fun to run, anyhow," he thought.
It was fun, certainly. He felt as if his limbs were strung together onsprings. He ran easily, without effort, each step bounding into the nextlike an elastic.
After a few minutes of this, Henry had a new thought.
"Now you've tried how _easy_ you can run, let's see how _fast_ you canrun!"
And then not only Henry himself, but the enormous crowd as well, beganto see how fast he could run. Slowly he gained on the fellow ahead ofhim, and passed him. With the next fellow as a goal, he gradually creptalongside, and passed him with a spurt. The crowd shouted itself hoarse.The field all along the course was black with people. Henry could hearthem cheering for Number 4, as he pounded by. Six runners remained aheadof him. Here was the kind of race the crowd loved; not an easily wonaffair between two runners, but a gradual victory between the bestrunner and overpowering odds. Henry could see the finish-flag now in thedistance. He began to spurt. He passed Numbers 14 and 3. He passed 25,6, and 1 almost in a bunch. Number 16 remained ahead. Then Henry beganto think of winning. How much the twenty-five dollar prize would mean toJess and the rest! Number 16 _must_ be passed.
"I'm going to win this race!" he said quietly in his own mind. "I'llbet you I am!" The thought lent him speed.
"Number 4! Number 4!" yelled the crowd. Henry did not know that thefellow ahead had been ahead all the way, and just because he--Henry--hadslowly gained over them all, the crowd loved him best.
Henry waited until he could have touched him. He was within three yardsof the wire. He bent double, and put all his energy into the lastelastic bound. He passed Number 16, and shot under the wire.
Then the crowd went wild. It scrambled over and under the fence,cheering and blowing its horns. Henry felt himself lifted on manyshoulders and carried panting up to the reviewing stand. He bowedlaughing at the sea of faces, and took the silver cup with its littlewings in a sort of dream. It is a wonder he did not lose the envelopecontaining the prize, for he hardly realized when he took it what itwas.
Then someone said, "What's your name, boy?"
_Henry felt himself lifted on many shoulders_]
That called him to earth. He had to think quickly under cover of gettinghis breath.
"Henry James," he replied. This was perfectly true, as far as it went.In a moment the enormous signboard flashed out the name:
HENRY JAMES No. 4. AGE 13 WINNER OF FREE-FOR-ALL
Meanwhile the man of the dressing room was busy locating Mr. Cordyce ofthe Cordyce Mills. He knew that was exactly the kind of story that oldJames Henry would like.
"Yes, sir," he said smiling. "I says to him, 'You don't expect to win,of course.' And he says to me, 'Oh, no, but it's lots of fun to run, youknow.'"
"Thank you, sir," returned Mr. Cordyce. "That's a good story. Bring theyoungster over here, if you don't mind."
When Henry appeared, a trifle shaken out of his daze and anxious only toget away, Mr. Cordyce stretched out his hand. "I like your spirit, myboy," he said. "I like your running, too. But it's your spirit that Ilike best. Don't ever lose it."
"Thank you," said Henry, shaking hands. And there was only one in thewhole crowd that knew who was shaking hands with whom, least of allJames Henry and Henry James.