"I say, Tim, boy!" he said earnestly, "listen to me. You are going to
get after Perkins this evening, eh?"
"How did you know?" said Tim, in surprise.
"Never mind! Now listen to me; I have raced myself some and I have
trained men to race. Are you not too tired with your day's work?"
"Tired! Not a bit," said the gallant little soul scornfully.
"Well, all right. It's nice and cool and you can't hurt yourself much.
Now, how many drills do you do after supper as a rule?"
"Down and up twice," said Tim.
"How many drills can you do at your top speed, your very top speed,
remember?"
"About two drills, I guess," replied Tim, after a moment's thought.
"Now, listen to me!" said Cameron impressively. "Go quietly for two and
a half drills, then let yourself out and go your best. And, listen! I
have been watching you this afternoon. You have easily done once and
a half what Perkins has done and you are going to lick him out of his
boots."
Tim gulped a moment or two, looked at his friend with glistening eyes,
but said not a word. For the first two and a half drills Cameron exerted
to the highest degree his conversational powers with the two-fold
purpose of holding back Perkins and Webster and also of so occupying
Tim's mind that he might forget for a time the approaching conflict, the
strain of waiting for which he knew would be exhausting for the lad.
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