34 The Cottrse, the Camp, the Chase 



Wimbledon, shot for the Spencer Cup. Whatever chance 

 that I might have possessed for this trophy, was quite 

 thrown away for want of food. We left Windsor 

 before 8 a.m., having had an early breakfast, and after 

 arriving at Wimbledon went through a long competition 

 for the Ashburton Shield. This was over about 2 p.m., 

 and those who had friends in the camp then went off to 

 luncheon. I knew no one, nobody looked after me, and 

 never having seen a camp before I did not know where to 

 get any food, or how to set about obtaining any. When 

 the shooting commenced for the Cup at 3.30 I was faint 

 for want of something to eat, and had quite gone off my 

 shooting. I have often wondered since how those in 

 charge of the team could possibly have neglected to look 

 after the competitor who was to be their champion, and on 

 whose sole shoulders rested the possibility of winning the 

 prize for Eton. It was very strange. 



I also really won the Long Jump, though I was only 

 placed third. The nominal winner, T. H. Phipps, fell 

 prostrate on landing, and so did Oswald, who was placed 

 second. Of course these jumps should not have been 

 reckoned, unless the measurements were taken to the 

 nearest portion of their bodies. Instead of this, the 

 distance was allowed to be counted to the part furthest 

 from the take-off, and thus I was beaten, though my jumps 

 were better than theirs when they stood erect. Even 

 thus one of my jumps was the longest, for I cleared 

 18 feet 3 inches, but put my toe on the line when I took 

 off, so the jump was not allowed. We jumped from a 

 chalk line, like a cricket crease, in a grass field, and as 

 there was nothing to jump at but plain grass, it was not 

 easy to make a great performance. I was offered another 



