Then the race began.

Joel's path lay straight down by the side line.

The field followed him at a distance, and the most he could hope for was a touch-down near the corner of the field, which would require a punt-out.
"Ain't that Joel ?" cried Mr.March, forgetting his grammar and his dignity at one and the same moment, and jumping excitedly to his feet.
"Ain't that Joel there running?
Hey?
They can't catch him.

I'll lay Joel to outrun the whole blame pack of 'em.

Every day, sir.