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230 "You'd better be thinking up what to say, Rupe," Harry warned him. "They'll be wanting you after this race."

The Pythians had already won the championship, no matter what might be the result of the mile run. Yet when the five came down the home-stretch with only a few yards separating them, there seemed as much excitement among the spectators as if the event were to be decisive. The boys were crowded about the finish line and along up the track, shouting the names of their favorites—"Eastman! Eastman!" "Hall! Hall!" And in the stand the spectators were on their feet, waving flags and hats—the President among them.

"Eastman got it!" Harry announced from the step of the carriage to which he had climbed. "One more score for you fellows, Rupert. Now you'd better let me help you down. The rector will be looking for you."

"Oh, I'm not so feeble as all that," said Rupert, and he scorned the proffered hands that were outstretched to aid him. He clambered down to the ground alone.