40 GALA DAY BOOKS.

“Rip-Raps”’ realized that it was likely
to be an uneven race, since Howard
Grant, with his delicate frame and weak
lungs, would almost certainly be left be-
hind. Still both boys meant to try hard
to win the race.

The bell rang, and they were off. No
fleet-footed Mercury could have been
swifter than these two lads striving for
the permit. For a little while Howard
Grant led, then his breath grew short,
and Lee Morris shot ahead of him. All
the “Magruders” yelled with triumph.
And then—how it happened he never ex-
actly knew—Lee’s feet were entangled in
a mass of blackberry vines; he fell, strik-
ing his head against a stone. There he
lay, very still, his head bleeding, his face
white as the gulls that circle over Hamp-
ton Roads.

Howard Grant did not stop. For a