turned his body partly, then slumped back, his face in the turf, and lay still.
"He's put Jock out!" said some one in an awed and marveling voice.
With a yell, Larry Stark leaped forward and seized the victor's hand. That yell was echoed by the mob.
"Lefty did it!"
"Oh, you, Lefty! Oh, you, Lefty!"
Locke's face was sober and unsmiling, betraying no elation. Satisfied that it was really over, he lifted his eyes, and found himself unexpectedly gazing into the wide blue eyes of a girl who was looking down at him from a carriage round which the crowd was wedged. For a moment they stared at each other, while the cheering continued, and slowly a flush of shame mounted into Tom Locke's cheeks. He turned away.
"Come, Bent," said Janet in a husky voice, "can't we get out of here now? I'm really faint. Please hurry."
