Skinner stepped quickly
out from his blanket, and stamped his spikes into the soil; he
raised and lowered himself on his toes to try his muscles. Speed
drew his bath-robe from his shoulders and thrust it toward his
trainer, who shook his head.
"Give it to Covington, Bo; I won't be here when you come back."
"Get on your marks!" The starter gave his order.
Speed set his spikes into the dirt, brought his weight forward
upon his hands. He whispered something to Skinner. That gentleman
straightened up, whereupon Willie cried for a second time:
"On your marks!" and again Skinner crouched.
"Get set!"
The crowd filled its lungs and waited. Helen Blake buried her
nails in her rosy cold palms. Chapin and his friends were swayed
by their heart-beats, while even Fresno was balanced upon his
toes, his plump face eager. The click of Willie's gun sounded
sharp as he cocked it.
Into the ear close by his cheek Speed again whispered an
agonized--
"Don't forget to fall down!"
This time the cook of the Centipede leaped backward with an angry
snarl, while the crowd took breath.
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