"Bravo, youngster! you won cleverly."
As I walked back to the winning-post I was the centre of curiosity. All
the old cadets were staring at me, and I could not help feeling a
certain amount of pride in having won this race. I had been so bullied
and snubbed as a last-joined neux that all the conceit was taken out of
me, and I felt regularly cowed, so that a triumph like the present was
quite refreshing to me. The remarks of the old cadets, too, were
amusing; for it was the general opinion that I looked less like a runner
than any boy they had ever seen, as I looked delicate and was short.
That evening, in our room, Brag was very civil, and even Snipson seemed
to think more of me than he did before. When Snipson left the room,
which he did to go to the library, Brag asked me if I thought I had won
my race easily.
I replied that I had, and added, "You won't think me conceited, I hope,
if I say I am tolerably sure I can beat Horsford even."
"How can that be," said Brag, "when you won by only a yard?"
"Because I ran slowly the first part of the race, wanting to try my
speed in the last part, and I am certain at about sixty-five yards
Horsford was not a foot behind me."
"Ah! you can't beat Horsford even," replied Brag; "he's got so much
longer a stride than you."
"Well, I believe I can."
"Horsford says to-day he was out of form, or else he could have won, so
perhaps you may have another turn with him. I'll back you at five
yards, but not at evens."