“We are placing a great deal of reliance in him,” said Proctor, as if a bit vexed by Merry’s criticism. “Hollingsworth has chosen him as a leader to work out the bunch.” “Who is that second fellow—the one with the mop of light hair?” “That’s Tom Bramwell.” “His form is better than that of Prince; but he hasn’t the range, and I’m afraid he’s a bit too heavy.” “Oh, Bramwell never did anything brilliant in his life. Nobody counts on him.” “He’s just the man who’s liable to surprise everybody in a match of this sort. There is a pretty runner to the left of him—the slender little chap.” “That’s Clifford Clyde, a Yale man.” “Grad?” “No; he was suspended in his sophomore year and never tried to get back.” “He runs easy, but lifts his feet just a little too high. The man behind him is the best runner in the lot, if he didn’t have one bad fault.” “That’s Hugh Sheldon, the University of Michigan hurdler. What’s the fault?” “The way he carries his arms. He swings them across his body, and thus fails to get the proper lift of a direct forward swing. There is lost motion in that swing.” “There seems to be something the matter with them all,” muttered Proctor, with a disappointed air. “It is seldom you see a runner without faults,” smiled Frank. “And some mighty good men have bad habits in running. Many wonderfully good English long-distance runners have the fault of swinging their arms across their bodies, yet, for all of this, they generally defeat Americans in cross-country running and in other things which demand endurance.” “That’s what Mr. Ashley says, except he has made no mention of the bad arm action of the English. If Americans run in better form, why don’t they defeat the English?” “Because they have not the stamina—the stay. They have not been properly trained.” “Oh, do you believe in a rigid form of training for all men?” “Not at all. I have arrived at a point in life when I firmly believe the old saw: ‘What’s one man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ You can’t put a bunch of men in training and force them all to conform to set and rigid rules with the best result. Above everything else, a runner must have some love for his work and a great ambition to excel. Then he should study himself and find out just the sort of work that agrees with him in training. He should not shirk. He should take all he can stand without injury. He should consult with his trainer, and the trainer must have discernment and sense enough not to underwork or overwork that man. It requires a trainer of mighty keen discernment to determine just what is best for a bunch of five or six men with different natures, different habits, and varying ability. It’s likely you have done well in engaging an English trainer, as the English excel in this style of running. How often has he sent the men cross country?”