How Kitty Queered The Mile

I HEAR it whispered every now and again that the reason a probable winner disappoints is because he is drugged. This is why that quarter on which Tom White had a mortgage goes to an inferior man, and because of this Jack Lewis, who was yards better than his field, is beaten out in the "run in" of the "220" hurdles.

Now, I am prepared to say, after a longer track experience than falls to the lot of most men, that in almost all such affairs the fault is with the men themselves, who have either not done their work, or, more likely still, have overtrained and gone stale.

Indeed, I honestly believe that in ninety- nine cases out of a hundred the best man wins because he is the best man, and the rest of the field lose simply because they have not the legs, lungs, heart, or courage necessary to bring them in first. There is mighty little " hocus-pocus" business in amateur athletics, and the atmosphere of the cinderpath is, after all is said, as pure as any on earth, not excepting that of politics and the legal profession.

I know a very few events where men were drugged to put them out of contests, but they are, in the main, uninteresting tales which I do not care to tell.

In the little crack I mean to have with you, although no drugs were used, there is about the clearest case of " fix" I know, and, what is more to the point, I'll bet a fiver you will read it to the end.

I became acquainted with Kitty Murray when I was putting the finishing touches to the athletic team of a large New England academy, just what and where I cannot say, for very obvious reasons.

They had on their list an annual contest in field sports with a rival academy, and called in outside training talent only six or eight weeks before the games.

Kitty, with whom I struck up a friendship a day or two after my arrival, was a little English girl, as fresh and fragrant as an " Old- Country" rose such as I used to find long ago in a distant Lancashire garden. She was only five years over, and it seemed like going back again just to hear her talk. We became great friends during my stay in the little town, and I shall never quite forget her.

I hope the story I am about to tell will not be thought to reflect on her, and it will not, unless I bungle badly in the telling of it. Now, I do not, of course, defend the " queering" of a race, and Kitty as surely put a contestant out of winning place as if she had used a drug, yet it was not done for money. The man did not deserve to win, and I confess I like her all the better for the deed.

Kitty's father had come from an Oldham factory, thinking, like many another, that in America he would own his mill within a five year. The five years had passed, and he was still running his eight looms in the big weave-shed by the river, where he first went to work.

Kitty had tended her five looms by his side for a year or so, and then found more congenial as well as more remunerative surroundings in a little store near the academy grounds.

This store occupied the lower story of a dwelling-house, which had been built out toward the street, until its wooden porch infringed on the sidewalk, and its flight of long steps rose from the edge of the gutter.

Whether it fractured any of the town ordinances by preempting the sidewalk in this way I do not know, but it had a particularly inviting appearance, like a host coming half way to meet you, and the porch, sheltering from sun and shower, was a perfect dragnet for customers.

The front was all window, and the stock in trade plainly visible from the opposite side of the street. Here was candy in jars on the shelves and in trays on the counter, fruit in boxes and baskets by the windows, a huge soda fountain near the door, and an ice-cream parlor back of the store, with its horrible marble-topped tables, like gravestones awaiting the inscription of "Sacred to." I have travelled a bit, first and last, but nothing more dismal than an American ice-cream parlor do I remember to have seen.

While it cannot be denied that Kitty's confectionery was often stale, her fruit flavorless, her soda frothy, and her ice-cream as full of starch as a Chinese laundry, Kitty herself was all right, and fresh and dainty enough to offset all the deficiencies of her wares.

I can see her now, as I tell this story, with her bright "Old-Country" blushes, her soft brown hair, her blue eyes, and her trim little figure which her gowns always fitted so snugly. She was a marvel of neatness from ribbon to shoe tip, and was rather extravagant in the matter of foot-gear, for Kitty had a sweet foot and ankle of her own, concerning which she was not ignorant.

Cap'n Holden, the proprietor of the store, was a long, lank Vermonter, who had run a ding-dong race with consumption for twenty years, and was likely now to make an age record ahead of many a hearty man. He lived in a couple of rooms back of the icecream parlor, and left the management of the store very largely to Kitty, doing the drudgery, and leaving the high artistic to his assistant, content to find the money-drawer comfortably filled each night.

There was a steady stream of the academy boys flowing in and out the door of Holden's store all day, ruining their digestions, and going broke on pocket-money for the sake of basking in Kitty's smiles. A clever little business woman was she, too, for eighteen years, and very well aware of her worth, as Mr. Holden had learned to his cost, for he paid her what seemed a fabulous salary.

Now, my coming to the town was a serious misfortune to Kitty's business. The taking some thirty of her best customers and forbidding their accustomed indulgence in sweets, under penalty of not making the team, must have resulted in serious inroads on her trade.

She laughingly took me to task for this, one morning, soon after my arrival, asking me how I expected her to get her living, and declaring that Mr. Holden was looking at the poor-house with fearful glances. And then, as I leaned on the counter, she began to pump me in a very pretty way concerning the academy's chances in the coming games, showing an especial interest in the mile. Would I please tell her who would win in this event?

Now, it must not be thought that I have been in the habit of giving tips to inquisitive young ladies, for one thing a successful trainer must learn is to hold his tongue; but in this case there was no secret involved, and almost no money on, so I told her frankly that there were only two men of any use at all, Black and Harris.

Well, would I please tell her (ladies always say " please " in a particularly wheedling way when they ask what they know they should not), — would I please tell her which was the faster.

I answered that Harris was a very neat little runner who would win in average company, but that Black's stride was too much for him, and Harris could not show within five seconds of Black's time for the distance. Here the corners of Kitty's pretty mouth dropped most suddenly, and I then and there surprised the secret that under the folds of her flowered muslin lurked a shy liking for Jack Harris.

This was not at all to be wondered at, forJack was a mighty nice boy, pleasant to every one, and a fine performer in almost all branches of sport. Black was about the same age as Harris, nearly twenty, and, unlike Harris, was tall and dark, and rather surly and superior. They were both to leave for college at the end of the year, considered themselves men grown, and cherished a mighty strong liking for little Kitty. They were equally anxious to win the " mile," and to this end had trained very conscientiously, breaking the tape in the sight of Kitty's bright eyes being, after all, the strongest incentive.

I talked quite freely with the little girl, for she reminded me of old Lancashire, and she on her part took no particular care to conceal the fact that she should like very much to see Jack Harris win.

As the days went by I took special pains with Jack, but though he improved nicely he could not quite reach Black, and as the time of the contests approached I could give Kitty no encouragement, much as I should have liked to do so.

The very night before the games I went into the store and, in answer to her question, told her plainly that unless Black was taken suddenly ill, he would certainly best Jack, and that from all reports Harris was just as sure of second place, as the other academy had only moderate talent to offer in the " mile."

"And would Jack win, then, if Black was out of it, or a bit off ? " she asked, with a little tremble of disappointment in her voice.

I answered that a race was never won until the tape broke, and the judges had given their decision, but that it certainly looked that way; and while Kitty was weighing out some peppermints to an old lady, with an ounce of smiles for which she did not charge, I passed quietly through the icecream parlor into Mr. Holden's little den in the rear. Holden and I were quite cronies by this time; we often chatted together of an evening, and I dropped quite naturally into a rocking-chair near the door, which was ajar, and through which I could get a good view of the store without being myself observed.

He was reading the "Boston Globe" with the aid of his glasses, his pipe, and a pitcher of hard cider. He filled me a glass of the last, pushed the tobacco-jar across the table toward me, and handed me the sporting half of the paper without a word. I took a drink, lit my pipe, and pretended to read the paper, keeping a close watch on the front shop meanwhile.

Now, I had a method in all this, which was to be where I could see that none of the boys broke training in this most dangerous place, on the night before the contests. I had given the boys a much more rigorous course of training than was usual, and was a bit afraid of some of them, not accustomed to deprivations of any kind.

I sat smoking my pipe, and reading my paper, a fragment at a time, customers coming and going, but saw nothing of interest until about nine o'clock, when Harris entered, looking particularly well in tennis flannels and sweater. He bade Kitty a " good evening," in that pleasant way of his, and asked for a pound of mixed chocolates.

"A pound of mixed chocolates !" exclaimed Kitty, instantly alert. " Why, Jack Harris, you know you ought not to touch a single piece, and you to run to-morrow! Not an ounce will I give you."

I think Harris was pleased at the motherliness of the little girl, for he told her without any chaffing that the candy was intended for his sisters, who were spending the night at the hotel, with their aunt. " Do you know, Kitty," said he, " they would not give up their chocolates to win a world's championship? "

" I would, then," said Kitty. " It must be splendid to go over the line first, with the rest

following after. I suppose that's what you'll do to-morrow."

"Not likely," he answered frankly; "Black is yards better, and unless he has a stroke of paralysis in the stretch, I shall have the pleasure of following him in, and must content myself with second place or worse."

" Oh, Jack," said Kitty, " I wish you could win; you must win. Can't I help you in some way?"

" I don't know how," he answered, " unless you can furnish me a pair of legs as long and as good as Black's, and they are hard to find."

" Don't joke," said Kitty, with a look of reproach. " If I were you I'd beat him without any legs, I'd get ahead, and stay there if it killed me."

There was in this just a hint of reflection on the boy's courage, but it was given in such good heart, that he could not take offence, and he laughed in rather a forced way and said, " I suppose I am an awful duffer not to be able to call the trick, for I have worked my best, and not thrown away a single chance. The truth is that Black is a better man at the distance, has been as careful as myself, and is not likely to take any liberties with himself until the race is over. I saw him a little while ago, and he was looking ' out of sight.'"

At this there was silence for a little, for the outlook was certainly quite hopeless. From my seat by the door I could see them plainly, and I felt rather like an eavesdropper, when Kitty put her hand on Jack's sleeve in her earnestness.

They made a pretty picture with their flushed faces and easy attitudes, and I thought of an old garden-gate in Lancashire where there had been much the same scene long ago.

They talked together a moment or two longer in low tones, and then Kitty became suddenly conscious, and went back again behind the counter, with a touch of embarrassment. Jack took his box of candy, and said " Good night," stopping at the door a moment to say, " Win or lose, I shall do all I know. I promise you he shall know he has been in a race, and I shall run clear out, or run a winner."

There were only a few more customers, for we kept good hours in the little town, and I was about to take my leave, satisfied that my men were all in bed, when Black entered.

Now, this was clearly in disobedience of my instructions, which were, for this night, bed at nine-thirty, and it was now five minutes later by the clock over the stove. While the training of this academy team was a small matter for me, some of my best friends whom I had handled on big college teams were anxious for them to win, had considered the matter well-nigh settled when they had prevailed on me to take them on, and I had been very strict and painstaking in my handling of them. I was naturally provoked that Black should openly disobey instructions, and I sat back in my chair to watch developments.

I do not remember what Black said, but he made an effort to be agreeable which was not particularly successful. There was something about his manner indicating condescension, which was not at all pleasing to Kitty's democratic spirit. She very promptly took him to task for being out after hours, and with a very different tone from that used when reproving Jack Harris.

"I don't mean to be dictated to by any old played-out martinet of a trainer," said he gruffly. " It is all well enough for those who have no sure thing. I saw Harris going to his room fifteen minutes ago, but I'll sleep when I like, and beat him then."

At this very foolish and boasting remark, involving also a reflection on Jack's prowess, I could see Kitty's eyes flash, and her cheeks redden, and then there came over her face a very peculiar expression of determination I could not at all understand. She changed gradually from indifference to interest, and finally said, with a well-assumed air of admiration, " It must be splendid to be so sure of winning; and don't you have to train at all?"

" Deuced little," he answered; "I go through the motions with old Brown, but eat and drink just what I like, and sleep four or eight hours, as I prefer."

Now, this was a bare-faced lie, and his sin found him out as quickly as in any "goody" book I ever read, for Kitty went on to say in her pretty way, becoming every moment more genial and fascinating, " Isn't that nice ? then you can take a soda with me before I start for home."

Remember that I was all the time in the back room with Mr. Holden, listening to the talk, rather hot under the collar at Black's " old played-out martinet," and wondering what in the world little Kitty was plotting.

Black looked a bit doubtful at her offer; he had trained to the dot, and did not mean to throw away a single chance to win, but such an invitation from Kitty was an unheard- of honor, he could not very well eat his words, so he consented with an assumed alacrity, and Kitty proceeded to draw a glass of soda for him.

And such a glass of soda as it was ! If Mr. Holden had seen it he would have had a fit; nothing like it had ever gone over his counter, expense was not considered, and profit there could have been none. I could see the whole devil's brew myself, but Black could not, for Kitty stood between him and the glass.

First she put in a double quantity of heavy, thick chocolate, then a liberal lump of ice cream, and finally hardly enough soda to mix them. She drew a glass of Vichy for herself, and I watched as they drank, and chatted, and laughed together.

Now, what were the reasons why I did not interfere, while my best mile-runner was getting outside of this horrible mixture?

The first was, that we did not need him to win the " mile" ; the second was, that his remarks concerning myself were not inclined to make me care for him personally; the third was, that I thought defeat might teach him a much-needed lesson; and the last and most potent, I must confess, was, that I had not the heart to spoil Kitty's wicked little game, which she was playing so beautifully.

As I said before, it was as clear a case of "fix" as if she had given him a drug, and between a mild dose of poison and the glass she mixed, there was little for an athlete in training to choose.

I sat in the back room for at least a half- hour longer, and saw Black drink three more glasses of different flavors, chosen with special reference to their baleful effects; and so pleasant and jolly was Kitty, and so happy was Black, that I am sure she could have substituted a dose of rhubarb without his notice.

It was after ten o'clock when Kitty put on her hat, and I afterward learned that she talked a full hour longer with him at her gate, an unheard-of thing for Kitty, who was particularly careful of gossip, and it was midnight when he rolled into bed.

He must have had the digestion of an ostrich not to have been immediately and positively ill; but he was not, and barring a little lack of color, he gave no indication of his previous night's extraordinary training, when he went to the mark for the mile.

It had been a mighty busy day for me; the boys were young, some of them had never been contestants before, and they were nervous and uncertain. I got through the morning as best I could, giving advice here, answering a question there, telling some little fellow with a white face that there was no doubt of his winning, and another, who was over-confident, that he had no chance unless he followed instructions to the dot.

Dinner over (for at our boarding-house we dined at noon) I started for the " grounds," which were over on the other side of the little town. The wide street was well dotted with carriages, and the sidewalks crowded with townspeople, country folk, and a liberal sprinkling of the supporters of the rival academy. Most of the mill-hands were out, and the rattle of the looms was subdued, half of them being silent.

I threaded my way through the mob as best I could, for, every few feet, some one would buttonhole me to ask a fool question. Then again, did you ever notice how much harder it is to work your way through a crowd of country people than one of equal density in the city? There is a sluggishness and inertness very different from the quick movements of those whose feet are accustomed to tread city paves.

However, when I got beyond the shopping quarter, where the dwelling-houses began, the streets were free enough, and I crossed over to the south side, the day being warm, and the shade of the elms grateful. I was passing Holden's store, when Kitty appeared in the doorway, as if by accident, and with a very pretty look of mingled surprise and pleasure. She looked as if she had just arrived from Arcadia, or had stepped out of a Dresden dish, with her fresh muslin figured with little sprays of flowers, a big hat on her soft brown hair, and a parasol in her hand which displayed the academy color.

Her cheeks were bright, and grew a shade brighter as she asked, "Please, Mr. Brown, may I walk along with you ?" Receiving my very hearty assent she tripped down the steps and across the street, taking special pains to save the figured muslin from the dust of the street. I think I said that Kitty's ankles were irreproachable.

Although it was very evident Kitty had been to some pains to see me, I found her very silent and preoccupied. She had said not much more than a silly word or two about the weather, when we reached the Lee place, where she said she must leave me, as she had promised to stop for Sally and Kate. As she put her hand on the latch of the gate she gave me the first hint of what was burdening her mind by asking, "Are the boys all feeling well?"

I said, "Yes, as far as I know," and then to try her, "though Black looks a bit queer, for some unaccountable reason."

"That's too bad," answered Kitty, with considerable affectation of sorrow, as she swung the gate open; but I noticed a little widening of the mouth, and a tell-tale dimple in her cheek almost betrayed her. .Not once did she raise her eyes to mine either, something very unusual with her, for she had the frankest glance possible.

I watched her as she mounted the steps and rang the bell, and then walked on beneath the tall elms, philosophizing over that most interesting subject, " a woman and her ways," something the masculine mind cannot understand, but likes to struggle with.

The track was in the centre of the " campus," an enclosure of several acres of soft green turf, fringed and fenced by its row of tall trees. Around the track the spectators were gathering, and the grand stand was beginning to fill. All the officials and most of the contestants were already inside the ropes, the former bustling around with their bright-colored badges flapping, and extremely busy doing nothing; the latter, in their spotless trunks and jerseys, with bare brown legs and arms, looking " sweet enough to kiss," so I heard a pretty little matron say on one of the lower seats. Indeed, I know few finer sights than a young; fellow, clean-limbed and lithe, trained to perfection, with eyes bright, and face darkened by the sun, waiting in his running- togs, with a background of green grass, and overhead the cloudless sky.

As soon as I got among them, the boys flocked around me, and after a hearty word or two I sent the team off by the catcher's fence, a little beyond, for there were no dressing-rooms, and I wanted to know where to find them. Jack was looking "finer than silk," and Black not half bad, although a trifle dark under the eyes. I was not at all sure that even Kitty's dose was enough to stop him.

Now, I do not propose to say a word about any event but the " mile." This was the last event on the list, we were comfortable winners already, and everybody was speculating how badly Black would fracture the record; there seemed to be no doubt about his winning, and, unpopular as he was, it was with many admiring exclamations that he ran a few yards to limber up. His long legs moved like clock-work, and his stride was remarkable.

We had just lost the final heat of the "220," and when the starter's whistle blew for the "mile" I could see the faces brighten up, for it was confidently expected that Black and Harris would run first and second, and leave a pleasant taste in the mouth to take home to supper.

There were six starters, and when Jack took his place on the outside, he was the finest-looking boy of the lot. Not having grown so fast, he was more rounded and filled out than the others, though he carried not an ounce of useless tissue. His arms and legs were better developed, and his face was clean cut as a cameo.

Kitty sat directly on a line with the tape, on the top row of seats, between the Lee girls. One of them, I could see, was keeping a watchful eye on the west, where the thunder heads were gathering.

But Kitty did not see any clouds, not she. She did not care if the deluge came after this race; and what was a shower, or a wet gown ? She was red and pale by turns, breathing hard, and had both elbows on the top rail behind her, as if to brace herself for the ordeal. Wonderfully attractive was she in this attitude of repressed excitement, and though the grand stand was full of pretty girls, dressed in their best bibs and tuckers, I saw none to compare with her.

When Jack glanced up at her, she leaned forward and waved her hand, giving him a look that brought the color to his cheeks. But when he turned, got on his mark, and put out his hands, his flush faded, the half smile disappeared, and in their place came as stern a look of resolution as I ever saw in a boy's face.

And yet I doubted he could win.

True, he was just the one to do a shade better in competition than in training, but Black was likely to do no worse (unless pulled back by the sodas), and with a strong five seconds to the good, it was a beautiful race to guess on.

"Marks! Set!" The bang of the pistol, with its little wreath of smoke rising in the still air, and they are off. "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 disappear a second behind the catcher's fence, emerge again, swing round 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, where he 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 finishes the first quarter last of the six, and a 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 as they go by.

Round the track they swing again, two men dropping out at the lower turn, already run off their feet, and one of them the stout fellow, as I expected. Indeed, as they pass the posts the second time all have come back a bit to Jack but Black, and Kitty's face is touched by grim despair, for that dreadful twenty yards still stretches between the one she wishes to win and the one she tried to put out of the race.

On the third quarter Jack lets out a link, picking up one after another, until only Black leads him, and when they start on the last lap he is running strong and fairly fresh, only ten yards behind, and the rest trailed badly.

Kitty's face is the queerest mixture of hope and fear I ever saw.

Black runs with the confidence of repeated victories in trials, and attempts to open up the gap again; but Jack has a bit up his sleeve still, answers with a little spurt of his own, will not be denied, and is only a bare five yards to the bad as they straighten out for the last hundred yards.

Here Black glances over his shoulder, and I can see his look of surprise. Jack has never been so close up at this stage of the game. It is evident that both the boys are approaching" Queer Street," " Queer Street" with its pounding heart and panting lungs, its parched mouth, singing ears, and leaden feet. Both are game to the core, and it is now only a question of endurance. Here is the runner's purgatory, where the sins of the past are settled, and here it is that Kitty's ice-cream sodas take a hand in the sport.

What would Black give if he had not imbibed their awful sweetness?

Inch by inch Jack draws up on him, his jaw set, his eyes aflame, his stride shortening, but still quick and straight. Black's face is leaden, his eyes glassy, his long legs giving at the knees at every stride.

Down the stretch they come, the crowd on its feet, but too excited to yell, Kitty with her hand over one eye, and her handkerchief tight between her white teeth.

For twenty yards they run almost side by side, and then Jack pumps ahead and breaks the tape, a winner by a scant yard. Black follows over in a heap, staggers a step or two, and falls before any one can catch him.

Sick, was he ? Well, rather!

He had a touch of colic that doubled him up like a grasshopper. He groaned and coughed, he writhed and twisted, like a lobster on the coals. I knew it was not a dangerous matter, and gave him little sympathy, extracting a half confession concerning his training escapade of the previous evening.

Kitty, the little Jezebel, blushed like a rose when Jack waved his hand at her, as he was carried off on the shoulders of some enthusiastic friends.

Little did he know how he came to win over a faster man; little did Black understand there had been a plot for his undoing; and unless she reads this story, Kitty will always think her secret is a secret to all the world.