Everybody seemed to be cheering madly at the same time.

Men stood up, and waved their arms; girls embraced each other, though not an eye was turned away from that wonderful finish of the great Marathon race.
Now, Hugh had apparently released his final effort.

He was gaining faster and faster.

Whipple seemed to know that he was in deadly peril.
He, too, looked back over his shoulder in alarm, possibly meaning in desperation to almost burst a blood vessel if he found that his rival was about to overtake him.
That proved his eventual undoing, though the result was no longer in doubt.

He lost his balance, and, being so exhausted that he could not stand longer, pitched headlong to the ground, just as the fleet Hugh jumped into the lead, raced twenty steps further, broke the extended tape, and thus won the race.
How the heavens seemed to fairly quiver with the roars that broke out! It had been a most thrilling finish for the greatest race ever run in all the country.