TOM BROWN'S
"Look here, sir," says the guard, after giving a sharp toot-toot, "there's two on 'em; out-and-out runners they be. They come out about twice or three times a week, and spirts a mile alongside us."
And as they came up, sure enough, away went two boys along the foot-path, keeping up with the horses; the first a light, clean-made fellow going on springs, the other stout and round-shouldered, laboring in his pace, but going as dogged as a bull-terrier.
Old Blowhard looked on admiringly. "See how beautiful that there un holds hisself together and goes from his hips, sir," said he; "he's a 'mazin' fine runner. Now, many coachmen as drives a first-rate team 'd put it on and try and pass 'em. But Bob, sir, bless you, he's tender-hearted; he'd sooner pull in a bit if he see'd 'em a gettin' beat. I do b'lieve, too, as that there un 'd sooner break his heart than let us go by him afore next mile-stone."
At the second mile-stone the boys pulled up short and waved their hats to the guard, who had his watch out and shouted "4.56," thereby indicating that the mile had been done in four seconds under the five minutes. They passed several more parties of boys, all of them objects of the deepest interest to Tom, and came in sight of the town at ten minutes before twelve. Tom fetched a long breath, and thought he had never spent a pleasanter day. Before he went to bed he had quite settled that it must be the greatest day he should ever spend, and didn't alter his opinion for many a long year—if he has yet.
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