The disappointments of the year would in a measure be atoned
for if only he might win the coveted honor. He had carefully followed
the instructions of Wagner, the captain of the team, who though, by his
physician's orders was not to compete, was nevertheless deeply
interested and for some reason had taken an especially strong liking to
Will Phelps. Upon his advice Will had retired early the preceding night
and had secured a rest that made him now feel that if ever he was to
win, the present opportunity was the supreme one.
"Don't do your best in the heats, unless you have to," said Wagner as he
approached Will on the field and stopped for a moment to chat with him.
"Save your strength for the finals."
Will smiled but did not reply. In his present state of mind he was
wondering if he could run at any pace that was not his best. The events
were being run off now and he was striving to become interested in them.
Anything that would call his thoughts away from himself and his own
contest was to be desired, he thought. Foster had tried and failed to
win a place and Peter John Schenck too had not been successful.
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