Will Phelps was keenly excited although his movements were very deliberate as he walked about the field clad in his running suit, over which he was wearing his bath robe.  His desire to secure a place on the team was so strong that he hardly dared face the possibility of a failure.  The disappointments of the year would in a measure be atoned for if only he might win the coveted honor.  He had carefully followed the instructions of Wagner, the captain of the team, who though, by his physician’s orders was not to compete, was nevertheless deeply interested and for some reason had taken an especially strong liking to Will Phelps.  Upon his advice Will had retired early the preceding night and had secured a rest that made him now feel that if ever he was to win, the present opportunity was the supreme one.

“Don’t do your best in the heats, unless you have to,” said Wagner as he approached Will on the field and stopped for a moment to chat with him.  “Save your strength for the finals.”

Will smiled but did not reply.  In his present state of mind he was wondering if he could run at any pace that was not his best.  The events were being run off now and he was striving to become interested in them.  Anything that would call his thoughts away from himself and his own contest was to be desired, he thought.  Foster had tried and failed to win a place and Peter John Schenck too had not been successful.  Was his own chance better than theirs?  He could hardly believe that it was, and yet if determination could aid he knew that his lack, if he should be found wanting, would not be due to that cause.

At last the supreme moment arrived and the call for the first heat in the hundred yards dash was heard.  Will’s heart was beating furiously when he cast aside his bath robe and tossed it to Foster who was waiting to receive it.  His room-mate smiled encouragingly but was too wise to speak and Will advanced to the line.  He perceived that three others were with him in the heat, but Mott, whom he most feared, was not among the number.  That was a source of some consolation, and his hope increased that he might at least win a place in the finals.

As the pistol was fired, Will darted forward from the line, but in a moment the runners were recalled and Will was penalized a yard for his undue eagerness.  Grimly he took his place this time a yard behind the line and when the start was again made he sped down the track as if he was possessed of the speed of the wind.  Easily he was the first to touch the tape, but when unmindful of the cheers of his classmates he turned aside to don once more his bath robe, Wagner approached and shaking his head, laughed as he said, “You forgot what I told you, freshman.”

“What was that?”

“Not to run your best in the heat.  You want something left for the finals.”

“I couldn’t help it,” said Will grimly.  “What was the time?”

“Ten, two.”