The other three heats follow, and then, amid great excitement, the final heat is run off, and the best man wins.
For the Senior 100 yards which followed only three were entered, and each of these had his band of confident admirers.

Slipshaw and I were very "sweet" on Jackson, who was monitor of our dormitory, and often gave us the leavings of his muffins, but Ranger was a lighter-built fellow, and seemed very active, while Bruce's long legs looked not at all pleasant for his opponents.

The starter had no trouble with them, but it was no wonder they all three looked anxious as they turned their faces to him; for in a 100 yards' race the start is everything, as poor long-legged Bruce found out, for he slipped on the first spring, and never recovered his lost ground.

Between Ranger and Jackson the race was a fine one to within twenty yards of home, when our favourite's "fat" began to tell on him, and though he stuck gallantly to work he could not prevail over the nimble Ranger, who slipped past him and won easily by a yard.
This was a damper for Slipshaw and me, who, as in duty bound, attended our champion back to where he had left his coat, and so missed the throwing of the cricket-ball, which was easily won by the favourite.
But though we missed that event, we had no notion of missing the high jump, which promised to be the best thing (next to the three-legged race) that day.

Four fellows were in for it, and of these Shute and Catherall were two of the best jumpers Parkhurst had ever had; and it was well known all over the school that in practice each had jumped exactly 5 foot 4 inches.