On, Brave Old Army Team

"What did you expect, a firing squad?"

"Maybe. With everybody saying I represented my country and all, I figured they'd be angry, like I lost World War II or something." A blast of dark wind rippled the back of Fracker's sweat shirt. He shivered, stopped running, bent and stretched at the waist. "But it hasn't been like that at all. From Herb, right up to the superintendent, they've all been great."

"Who knows, maybe now you might even start relying on other people once in a while."

"Maybe." Fracker jumped up and down, clapped and shook his chilled hands. "But if I don't win the Nationals they will shoot me." For the first time in six weeks Al Fracker took time out for laughter. Then he returned to his road-work.