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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/38471-8.txt b/38471-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a01146a --- /dev/null +++ b/38471-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4774 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Randall, by Ellery H. Clark + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dick Randall + The Young Athlete + +Author: Ellery H. Clark + +Illustrator: Walter Biggs + +Release Date: January 2, 2012 [EBook #38471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK RANDALL *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=kh5WAAAAYAAJ + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + + +[Illustration: Dick stood dreaming, gazing across the yard] + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + _THE YOUNG ATHLETE_ + + + + + BY + + ELLERY H. CLARK + + + + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + + WALTER BIGGS + + + + + INDIANAPOLIS + + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + PUBLISHERS + + + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1910 + + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + + + + + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + + + + + + TO MY NEPHEWS + + WELD ARNOLD + + AND + + ALLEN WILLIAMS CLARK + + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER + + I The New Boy. + + II Dave Ellis Breaks a Record. + + III Dick and Jim Go On a Shooting Trip. + + IV The Shooting Trip's Unexpected Ending. + + V Duncan McDonald. + + VI A Question of Right and Wrong. + + VII A Battle Royal. + + VIII On Diamond and River. + + IX Foul Play. + + X The Pentathlon. + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + CHAPTER I + + THE NEW BOY + + +Fall term at Fenton Academy had begun. Dick Randall came slowly down +the dormitory steps, then stopped and stood hesitating, as if doubtful +which way to turn. Uncertainty, indeed, was uppermost in his mind. He +felt confused and out of place in his new surroundings, like a +stranger in a strange land. + +The day was dark and gloomy. The sky was overcast, and the afternoon +sun shone halfheartedly from behind the clouds. A fresh breeze bent +the trees in the quadrangle, scattering a shower of leaves about the +yard. In spite of himself, Dick felt his spirits flag. 'A' thousand +miles lay between him and home; and except for a few brief visits, +made close at hand, this was his first real venture into the world. +Unaccustomed to the change, unacquainted with his classmates, with the +steady routine of work and play not yet begun, he was wretchedly +homesick; and strive as he would, he could not keep his thoughts, +for five minutes together, from his father and mother, and the +white-walled farm-house on the slope of the mountain, looking down +over the valley and the meadowland below. He felt ashamed and +disgusted with himself, for he was no longer a "kid"; he was almost +seventeen, and big and strong for his age; and yet, fight it as he +might, the longing for home would not down. + +Thus he stood dreaming, gazing unseeingly across the yard, until +presently, with a start, he came to himself. A friendly hand smote him +between the shoulder-blades, a friendly arm was drawn through his, and +he turned to meet the somewhat quizzical glance of his classmate and +next-door neighbor in the dormitory--Harry Allen. + +Instinctively Dick smiled. He had sat next to Allen at supper the +night before and had taken a liking to him from the start. Allen had +chattered away steadily, all through the meal, yet his talk had been +unaffected, entertaining, and wholly free from any effort at "trying +to be funny" or "showing off." He was Randall's opposite in every +way--as slight and frail as Dick was big and broad-shouldered, as +light as Dick was dark, and apparently, at the present moment, as +cheerful as Dick was depressed. "Well, Randall," he asked, "what you +got on your mind? Composing a speech?" + +Dick flushed a little. "No, nothing like that," he answered; "I don't +know just what I was doing. Just thinking, I guess. You see--" + +Allen interrupted him. "Oh, _I_ know," he said; "I've been through it, +all right. You can bet on that. Don't I remember the first day I came? +Golly, I should say I did. Talk about a cat in a strange garret. Well, +that was little me. Don't worry, though. Just about three days, and +you'll think you've lived here all your life. It's a dandy school. +You'll find that out for yourself. And Mr. Fenton! Well, if there's a +better master in the state, I'd like to see him. Teach! I guess he +can. Languages, you know--that's his branch. He's got Latin and Greek +down fine. And English! Why, they say his English course is the best +thing outside of college. He starts away back with Chaucer--'well of +English undefyled,'--Spenser, you know, _Faerie Queene_--and he brings +us right down to Robert Louis Stevenson. Oh, it's great! No fellow +from this school has flunked English for ten years. How's that? Going +some?" + +He paused, a little out of breath. Dick smiled, finding something +humorous in the contrast between his classmate's breezy speech, and +the "English undefyled," for which his liking was so evidently +sincere. Yet he found Allen's talk acting on him like magic, and by +the time they had reached the end of the yard, his gloomy thoughts +were forgotten, and he was himself once more. + +To the left, they could see the boat-house, and the faint blue of the +river, just showing through the trees; to the right lay the athletic +field, and it was toward the track that Allen turned. + +"Come on," he said; "let's walk down and watch Dave Ellis. He's going +to try the Pentathlon. He's been training for it all summer. You met +him last night, didn't you?" + +Dick nodded. "Yes, I met him," he answered. He had sat opposite Ellis +at table, and had admired his rangy and powerful build. Yet something, +too, in his manner, had repelled him as well; Ellis had seemed a +little patronizing, with a trifle too much of the "Conquering Hero" +about him. So that now Dick hesitated for a moment, and then asked, +"Say, Allen, if it's a proper question, what sort of fellow is +Ellis? Doesn't he seem pretty--well, I don't know just what word I +want--pretty--cocksure of himself, somehow?" + +Allen did not answer at once, and when at length he did so, it was in +rather a guarded tone. "Well, you see, Randall," he replied, "I don't +believe I'd better say anything. Dave's a candidate for class +president next spring, and he's pretty sure to get it, too. Only--some +of the fellows have been sounding me to see if I cared to run, and if +I should, why, I wouldn't want you to think, from anything I said--" + +Randall's face was scarlet with embarrassment. "Excuse me, Allen," he +cried, "I didn't know. I didn't mean--" + +Allen hastened to reassure him. "Of course you didn't," He said; +"that's all right, Randall. I only thought I'd let you know. And as +far as that goes, there's really no reason why I shouldn't say what I +think about Dave, if you'll give me credit for being fair about it, +and won't think I'm trying to work any electioneering games. Here's +just what I think about him. I think Dave's a good fellow. And he's +certainly a remarkable athlete--one of the best, I guess, that we've +ever had in the school. All I don't like about him is, that he hasn't +much school spirit; I think he's for Dave Ellis first, and the school +afterward. But still he's all right, you know. He's a good enough sort +of fellow in most ways. One thing, though, he's got to look out for. +And that's his studies. He had a close shave getting by last year, and +I don't believe he's opened a book since school closed. Oh, Dave's all +right, but you'll find he's a good deal bigger man outside the lecture +room than he is in." + +Dick nodded. "I see," he answered; "and I'm much obliged, Allen, for +telling me about the election. I won't go putting my foot in it again, +in a hurry. I'll know enough after this to keep my mouth shut, till I +begin to get the hang of things. Ellis must be a dandy athlete, +though. I never saw a better built fellow in my life." + +Allen was quick to assent. "Oh, he is," he answered. "He's a corker. +He's six feet one, and weighs a hundred and eighty pounds. He's +awfully good on the track, and he pulls a fair oar, and I guess he's +the best full-back we ever had in the school. _Was_ the best fullback, +I mean. You knew we'd cut out football, didn't you?" + +"Yes," Dick answered, "I heard about it. Was a fellow really killed, +Allen?" + +His companion nodded. "Yes, Faulkner, of Hopevale," he said. "It +happened in the Clinton game. It was an awfully sad thing, too. His +whole family had come on to see the match. It happened in a scrimmage. +He was picked up unconscious. But no one thought it was really +anything serious. They took him to the infirmary; pretty soon he was +in a fever; went out of his head; and two days later he died. Injured +internally, the doctors said. So of course we cut out foot-ball, and +I'm glad of it, too." + +Dick drew a long breath. "That was tough!" he exclaimed. "Think how +his father and mother must have felt! And the master at Hopevale, too. +I suppose he considered himself somehow to blame, though of course he +wasn't, really." + +Allen shook his head. "No, of course it wasn't his fault," he +answered. "It was just one of those things no one could foresee. But +I'm glad they've stopped it, anyway. So now Dave's going to put all +his time into the track, because, you see, with foot-ball off the +list, it makes the Pentathlon more important than ever. This spring is +going to decide who wins the cup, and the way things look now, the +Pentathlon may settle the whole business. They've got a dandy +Pentathlon man over at Clinton--a fellow named Johnson--he won it last +year, and broke the record--made two hundred and eighty points--so if +Dave could beat him, it would be great for us, all right. I guess we +can tell something from what he does to-day." + +They walked on for a few moments in silence; then Dick, with sudden +resolve, turned squarely to his friend. "Look here, Allen," he said, +"I know you'll think I'm greener than grass, but I read somewhere, +once on a time, that if a fellow didn't understand a thing, he might +as well own up to it, or else he'd never learn at all. And that's what +I'm going to do now. I'm not up to date on school affairs. I don't +even know what cup you're talking about. And I don't know what you +mean by the Pentathlon. I suppose it's got something to do with +athletics, but if you hadn't said anything about it, it might be +something to eat, for all I'd know. So if you don't mind, I wish you'd +explain things to me, and then, perhaps, I won't feel quite so much +like a fool as I do now." + +Allen laughed. "Heavens," he said, "it isn't your fault, Randall; it's +mine. Here I go rattling on about everything, as if you'd been in the +school as many years as I have. No wonder I've got you mixed. Well, +now, let's see; I'll begin with the cup. No, I won't either; I'll +begin at the beginning; and that's with Mr. Fenton. Do you know +anything about what he did in college?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, I don't," he answered humbly. "I told you I +was green. We don't know much about athletics out our way. Unless +plowing, and getting in hay, and chopping wood count for anything. If +they do, we might have a show." + +Allen laughed again. "Well, they ought to, all right," he answered. +"What a bully idea for a Pentathlon! I'm going to speak to Mr. Fenton +about it. People couldn't say athletics were a waste of time then. +Well, to come back to _him_. He was a hummer when he was in college. +He was awfully popular, and he stood away up in his class, and they +say, in athletics, there wasn't anything he couldn't do. They wanted +him for the crew, and they wanted him on the nine, but he wouldn't do +either. I guess he didn't have any too much money then, and he told +them, straight out, that he'd come to college to work, and not for +athletics. He wasn't a crank, though; he took his exercise every day, +only he didn't waste any time over it. And finally the trainer of the +track team spotted him and got him to come out for the jumps. Golly, +but he surprised them. He never seemed to take such a lot of pains +about it, but I guess he was what they call a natural jumper. Anyway, +before he got through, he did six feet in the high, and twenty-three +two and a half in the broad. Perhaps that didn't hold them for a +while. So you can see he's a good man to be master of a school. He's +been through the thing himself, and he's got this whole athletic +business down fine. + +"I remember the talk he had with me when I first came to the school; +it made me take a shine to him right away. He doesn't lecture you, you +know, as if you were a kid; he talks to you just as if you were grown +up, and knew as much as he did; maybe more. Well, first of all, he +told me he didn't think any school could succeed where the master and +the boys weren't in harmony; and then he went ahead and gave me his +ideas on athletics. He said he liked them, and approved of them, and +meant to do all he could to encourage them--but that he was going to +keep them in their place. He said athletics were to help out lessons, +and not to hinder them; and that there wasn't any need of any conflict +between the two. But if there was a conflict, he said--if a fellow got +so crazy over athletics that he couldn't study--then the athletics +would have to go. And if that made the fellow feel so bad that even +then he couldn't study--or _wouldn't_ study--why, then it would be the +fellow himself that would have to go. But he meant that more for a +joke, I guess; nothing like that's ever happened since he started the +school. It's a pretty pig-headed fellow that can't get along with Mr. +Fenton. He's got a great way with him, somehow or other; I don't know +just how he does it, but he gets lots of fellows interested in +studying that you'd think were too lazy even to want to learn the +alphabet straight. Oh, I tell you, Randall, he's all right." + +Dick nodded. "I'll bet he is," he answered with enthusiasm. He was +beginning to feel the genuine _esprit de corps_; was realizing, for +the first time, that a school might be something more than a place +where one came merely to "do" one's lessons, and to learn enough to +enter college in safety. "Yes," he went on, "that sounds mighty +sensible to me. And as you say, Allen, where a man's been an athlete +himself, and a scholar, too, why, you can't help feeling a respect for +what he thinks about things. I can understand, though, about fellows +getting too much interested in athletics. I can see right now where +I've got to look out for that, myself. You've seen such a lot of it +here that you don't realize how it takes hold of a fellow that's never +had any show to go into them. I feel as if I'd like to try everything +in sight, if I didn't remember that my father's had to work good and +hard to send me here. And he wouldn't care much for cups and medals, I +guess. 'Book-learning,' that's what he wants to see me get. Still, I +suppose there's time for studying and athletics, too, if a fellow goes +at it right." + +Allen nodded. "Oh, sure there is," he answered. "And don't get the +idea, from what I said, that Mr. Fenton's a crank about it, or that +he's the preachy kind, because he isn't. He's keen on physical +culture, you know. A fellow's got to take his exercise every day, +whether he's a star athlete like Dave, or the worst grind that +ever wanted to swallow a Greek dictionary, roots and all. Oh, Mr. +Fenton likes exercise, only, as he says, there's a happy medium +everywhere--in athletics, just as in everything else. He doesn't want +the fellows to underdo; and he doesn't want them to overdo; and he +keeps an eye on every boy in the school. He takes just as much pride +in having the fellows in good shape physically as he does in having +them go into college with honors; and I tell you we don't have much +sickness around here. So you needn't worry about exercise; there's no +reason why you can't try anything you want. And I should think, to +look at you, Randall, you'd make a crack-a-jack at something. How much +do you weigh? A hundred and sixty?" + +His companion's build, indeed, fully justified his admiration. Randall +was strong and sturdy, from much hard work in the open, absolutely +healthy, and as rugged and active as a young colt. It was small wonder +that Allen, himself a member of the track team, looked him over with +an appreciative eye. + +Dick flushed with pleasure. "I weigh a little more than that," he +answered. "About a hundred and sixty-eight, I guess. That's nothing, +though. Think of Ellis." + +"Oh, well," returned Allen, "weight isn't everything." Then added, +with a smile, "You wouldn't think, to look at me, Randall, that I had +any pretensions to being an athlete, now would you? As the song says, +'I'm as thin as the paper on the wall.' I hardly disturb the scales +when I weigh myself." + +Dick looked at him. "Why, I don't know," he answered frankly, and +half-doubtfully, "but I should think, somehow, you look as though you +could run pretty well." + +Allen laughed. "Good guesser," he rejoined. "You've hit it, first +crack. I don't mean, of course, that I'm any good, but running's the +only thing I can do anywhere near well. It took a lot of hard work, +too. I was certainly a lemon when I started in. But last year I won +the quarter in the school games, and I got third in the big meet. So I +won my 'F', and that makes a fellow feel good, you know. Shows he's +done something for the school." + +Dick looked puzzled. "Won your 'F'?" he questioned. "What does that +mean, Allen?" + +"Why," answered his friend, "if you make the crew, or the nine, or the +track team, you get an athletic suit and a sweater. And on the shirt +and the sweater there's a big 'F', and a little 'A' on each side of +it. A. F. A.--Fenton Athletic Association. The crew fellows get a +white sweater, with the letters in red; the nine have gray sweaters, +with red letters; and the track team have red sweaters, with the +letters in white. And if you're on a winning crew, or a winning nine, +you can rip off the 'A. A.' from your sweater, and that leaves just +the big 'F', and shows you're a point winner for the school. With the +track team, it's a little different, because there it's more a case of +every fellow for himself. You can't have the same kind of team work +that you can with the nine and the crew. So when the big meet comes +for the cup, no matter whether the school wins or not, if you get +first, second or third in your event, then you're a point winner, and +you've got a right to your 'F'. Now, do you see?" + +Dick nodded. "Sure," he answered, "I've got that all straight; but now +there's another thing I don't understand. What's the big meet? And +what's the cup? You were going to tell me about the cup when we +started, and then we got switched off on to something else." + +Allen smiled. "I guess 'something else' was Mr. Fenton," he said. "I'm +pretty apt to talk people to death about him. I think he's a corker, +and I don't mind saying so. I'd rather have him think I was all right +than win my 'F,' ten times over, and that's putting it pretty strong, +too. Well, about the cup. That's a cinch to explain. It's just like +this. There are three schools, you see, right around here, in a kind +of ten-mile triangle. There's Clinton Academy and Hopevale and +ourselves. We've always had some sort of league with one another, in +all kinds of athletics, ever since the schools started, but six or +seven years ago the masters and some of the graduates got together, +and put things right on a systematic basis. Some rich old chap in New +York, who was a graduate of Hopevale, and had a couple of boys in the +school, donated a cup--a perfect peach--to be competed for every year +until one school won it three times and then it was to be theirs for +good. They put five sports on the schedule: foot-ball, base-ball, +track and crew, which counted three points each; and the Pentathlon, +which counted one. The school that won the most out of those thirteen +points held the cup for that year. + +"Well, Hopevale made a great start. They had some dandy athletes in +the school then--some folks were mean enough to say that was why the +old fellow in New York gave the cup--but anyway, however that was, +they won, hands down, for two years running. The next year they +thought there was nothing to it--they thought they couldn't lose--and +I guess they eased up a little, and didn't train quite so hard as they +did the other years. Well, they got a surprise all right, for Clinton +beat them out. They made six points that year, to four for Hopevale, +and three for us. And then, the year after that, Dave Ellis entered +school, and we had our turn. We got so, with Dave at full-back, we +never thought about the three points in foot-ball at all--we figured +them just like money in the bank--all we used to wonder about, was how +big the score was going to be. And then, in the spring sports, we had +Mansfield pitching on the nine, and Harrison stroking the crew, +and of course Dave came in strong again on the track. Oh, we had +things easy for the next two years. The second year we won all +thirteen points--made a clean sweep of everything. So _we_ began to +get cocky--same as Hopevale--but we never let up, you can bet; we +worked as though we thought we hadn't a show, unless we kept on doing +our darndest. + +"And then of course everything had to go wrong. Mansfield graduated +that year, and Harrison's father died, and he had to leave school; and +then this fellow Johnson came to Clinton, and he was certainly a find. +He and Dave had it out, hammer and tongs, in the track meet, and again +in the Pentathlon, and Johnson had the best of it both times. And +Clinton beat us by four points, and evened things up again. So you can +see what a scrap it's been, right from the start--it couldn't very +well have been closer--and you can imagine what it's going to be next +spring. Each school has won the cup twice, so of course this time's +got to settle it. Clinton has it all figured out that they're going to +win. They give us the crew, and Hopevale the base-ball, but they say +that with Johnson right they're sure to take the track meet, and +the Pentathlon, too. But of course no one can tell as far ahead as +that--it's foolish to try. Still, that's a pretty good prediction, I +think myself, unless Dave can show an improvement over last year on +the track. He says he can--he says he's been training all summer, and +that he's in the shape of his life. + +"I know what he's figuring on. If the three schools should be tied, +and it should all hang on the Pentathlon, why, the fellow who won that +would be a regular tin god, you know; he'd go down in the history of +the school like George Washington in the history of the country. And +Dave wouldn't mind being that fellow a little bit. Not that I'm trying +to knock him, you understand. That's a good, legitimate ambition. I'd +like to be the fellow myself; only I need a hundred pounds of weight, +more or less, and about a foot more height, before I'd fit in the +Pentathlon. And there's another reason for Dave's practising, too; he +wants to get back at Johnson. Dave can't take a licking, you know; he +isn't used to it, and it hurts. He claims he's going to square up this +spring, but I'm not so sure. Johnson's an awfully good man, and the +Pentathlon's no cinch for any one, no matter who he is." + +Dick, wholly absorbed in his friend's recital, drew a long breath as +Allen concluded. "By gracious," he exclaimed. "That is exciting, isn't +it? Suppose it did work out that way. Just think of it. To have it +hang on a single point, and then to have our school win--to have Ellis +beat Johnson. Oh, that would be great!" He paused a moment, and then +added: "Just tell me one other thing, Allen, and I won't bother you +any more. I've got everything else straight, but just what's the +Pentathlon, anyway?" + +Allen laughed. "I'm going to send you in a bill for private tutoring," +he said good-humoredly. "This is an awful strain on my mind, giving +you so much information free. And it would take a Philadelphia lawyer +to explain the Pentathlon straight. We go back a few thousand years, +just for a starter, to the days of the Greeks. 'The glory that was +Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome.' Edgar Allan Poe, Randall. +Ever read him? Ever read _The Haunted Palace?_ No? Well, you just waltz +into the library some day and take a crack at it. If I could write one +poem like that, I'd quit work for the rest of my life; I'd feel I'd +done enough. Well, never mind, that's not the Pentathlon, is it? I +need a muzzle, I think; that's the only trouble with me. Now, then, +reverse the power. Back we go, back to the Greeks. They had a kind of +all-around championship in their sports, you know; they called it the +Pentathlon. _Pente_, five; _athlos_, contest; five-event, I suppose +we'd say, now. First, I believe, it was running, jumping, throwing the +discus, wrestling and fighting; and then, later, they cut out the +fighting and put in the javelin instead. We've got the same kind of +thing to-day--the all-around championship they call it. Dave says he +means to try it some time when he goes to college. But it's too much +for school-boys, of course; it's ten events instead of five, and +there's a mile run in it and a half-mile walk. + +"So our Pentathlon is modeled on the Greeks. We have five +events, too: hundred-yard dash, sixteen-pound shot, high jump, +hundred-and-twenty-yard high hurdles and throwing the twelve-pound +hammer. You see, it's a pretty good test. You've got to have speed for +the hundred and the hurdles, and spring for the high jump, and +strength for the shot and the hammer. And something else besides; +skill for all five of them. The four S's, Mr. Fenton says, speed, +spring, strength and skill. He's a great believer in the Pentathlon; +says it develops a fellow all over; arms and legs, back and chest; the +whole of him. There's a dandy prize for it, too--a silver shield with +an athlete on it, going through all the different events. But the +scoring is the ingenious part; the man who thought that up was a +wonder. You see it isn't like regular athletics--it's more like a kind +of examination paper. Take the hundred, for instance. If you went into +the Pentathlon and ran the hundred in nine and three-fifths--that's +the world's record, you know--you'd get a hundred points; just the +same as if you answered all the questions right in an examination. And +then, at the other end, they set a mark so low that the smallest kid +in school could beat it; twenty seconds, say. That's the zero mark, +same as if you answered every question in the examination wrong. And +for every second, and fraction of a second, in between you're marked +according to what you do. + +"It's the same, of course, with the other events, so you _could_ make +a total of five hundred; theoretically, I mean. Of course, really, no +man ever lived--I don't suppose a man ever will live--who could be +fast enough to be a champion sprinter and hurdler, and strong enough +to be a champion weight man, and springy enough to be a champion +high-jumper--all at the same time. Johnson made the record last +spring--two hundred and eighty points--and that's awfully good for a +schoolboy. He isn't such a big fellow, either; I don't believe he +weighs much over a hundred and fifty; but he's fast--he can do a +hundred in ten-two, all right--and he's a good hurdler and jumper, but +he's not quite heavy enough for the weights. Still, Dave's got his job +cut out for him; there's no doubt about that. Well, here we are; and, +by gracious, we're late, too." + + + + + CHAPTER II + + DAVE ELLIS BREAKS A RECORD + + +While Allen had been speaking, they had reached the entrance to the +field; and as they passed the gateway in the high wooden fence they +could see Ellis, on the other side of the track, just getting on his +marks for the hundred yards. Ned Brewster, the captain of the track +team, stood behind him, pistol in hand. Farther up the track, at the +finish, were the three timers: Mr. Fenton, Doctor Hartman, the +physical director of the school, and Jim Putnam, the captain of the +crew. "Come on," cried Allen, and breaking into a quick run they +reached the farther side of the field, halfway up the stretch, +just as the pistol cracked, and Ellis leaped away into his stride. +They pulled up instantly to watch him. He seemed to run mainly on +sheer strength, paying little attention to form. As he flew past them, +Dick, gazing at him open-mouthed, was dimly conscious of a number of +things. He noticed that Ellis' face was contorted with the effort he +was making, and heard his breath coming in short, agonized grunts, +"ugh--ugh--ugh--" as he strove to increase his speed. The cinders +crunched sharply under his flying feet, and with a thrill of envy Dick +saw on his crimson jersey the big white "F" of the school. He felt +that Ellis was indeed a hero. "Golly," he said half aloud, "if I could +only run like that!" + +Allen, more skilled in estimating a runner's speed, and more critical +as well, showed little enthusiasm as Ellis, with a final effort, +breasted the tape. "I guess that wasn't much," he observed. "I don't +believe Johnson would worry a great deal if he saw that. Not better +than eleven, anyway, and I don't believe as good. Speed was never +Dave's strong point, you know. Let's find out how fast it was." + +They walked up to the timers. Ellis, jogging slowly back, shook his +head as he neared the group. "Slow," he said. "I knew it, all the way +down. Couldn't seem to get going. How bad was it, Mr. Fenton?" + +The master, a tall, finely-built man of middle age, with a pleasant, +clean-cut face, snapped back his stop-watch, then looked up at the +runner. "Why, it wasn't bad, Dave," he said cheerfully enough, "it's a +cold day for good time. No one could expect to do much on an afternoon +like this. You made it in eleven and two-fifths; all three watches +were the same. And that's not bad at all; it gives you sixty-six +points, to start with. Take your five minutes' rest now, and we'll try +the shot." + +Ellis nodded, and walked away into the dressing-room to change his +light sprinting shoes for the heavier ones, with extra spikes in the +heel, to be used in the shot put and high jump. Five minutes later he +came out again and walked across the field to the whitewashed circle, +took an easy practice put or two, and then made ready for his first +try. The doctor and Putnam stood by to act as measurers, with the tape +unrolled along the ground. Mr. Fenton stood near the circle, as judge. +"Remember now, Dave," he said, "only three tries. Make the first one +safe and sure, and don't forget to walk out the rear half of the +circle, or I shall have to call a foul." + +Ellis nodded, and at once made ready to put. Dick watched him +admiringly, as he stood motionless, his weight thrown well back on his +right leg, the toe of his left foot just touching the ground, the big +iron shot resting easily against his shoulder. All at once he raised +his left leg, balanced for a moment, and then sprang forward. The +instant his right foot touched the ground he brought his body around +like lightning, his right arm shot forward, and the big iron ball went +hurtling through the air, landing a good six feet beyond his practice +marks. Mr. Fenton gave an involuntary exclamation of surprise. "Well, +well," he cried, "you _have_ improved, Dave; that's excellent form; +and good distance, too. That must be thirty-eight feet, at least." + +The doctor held the tape against the inner edge of the toe-board; +Putnam, at the other end, pulled it tight, and bent critically +down over the mark left by the shot. Then he straightened up, +waving his arm, with a broad smile on his face. "Bully!" he shouted, +"thirty-eight, five and a half." + +Ellis laughed, well pleased. "I told you I'd improved, Mr. Fenton," he +said, "and I can beat that, too. I guess that's going to make +Johnson's thirty-four feet look pretty sick, all right." + +He seemed wholly unconscious of the disagreeable boastfulness of his +tone. Allen, however, threw Dick a significant glance, which seemed to +find a reflection in the rather grim expression on Mr. Fenton's face. +The master looked as though he wished he had withheld his words of +well-meant praise. "Perhaps, Dave," he said quietly, "Johnson may show +improvement, too. It's better to overrate the other man than to +underrate him." + +If he intended to throw any reproof into his tone it was lost on +Ellis, who seemed, indeed, scarcely to heed what the master was +saying. "Throw her back, Jim," he called to Putnam. "I'm going to get +her out for fair this time." + +Putnam rolled back the shot. Ellis grasped it, balanced as before, +knitted his brows, stiffened his muscles, and then, with every atom of +strength at his command, delivered it. The result was disappointing. +Something seemed lacking, and Putnam rose from making his measurement +with a shake of his head. "Not so good," he called. "Thirty-seven +nine." + +Ellis turned to Mr. Fenton. "That was queer," he said disappointedly. +"I thought I was going to lose it that time. Wonder what the trouble +was." + +Mr. Fenton smiled. "You tried too hard," he said. "That's one thing to +remember, Dave, in the shot. The more you grit your teeth, and brace +yourself for a great attempt, the worse you're apt to do. On your +first try you stood up to it naturally, with your muscles relaxed; but +on that last put your right arm was so rigid there was no chance to +get your body into it. Now make this next try like the first one; only +when you land from your hop, then come smashing right through with it; +put all your strength on, just in that one second, and we'll see if we +don't get results." + +Dick laughed to himself. Here, he thought, was a modern master with a +vengeance. What would the folks at home think of a teacher, renowned +for giving "the best English course outside of college," vigorously +telling one of his pupils to come "smashing right through" with a +sixteen-pound shot. And yet, while Dick smiled, he felt his respect +for Mr. Fenton in nowise diminished, but, indeed, rather increased, by +seeing him thus display his knowledge of track and field. For the +master, while always in friendly contact with his boys, never for a +moment overstepped the proper bounds of the relationship. He was a +hundred times more their friend, yet no whit less the master. Dick +could scarcely have reasoned it out, step by step, yet with +instinctive judgment, he found himself echoing Allen's words of a few +moments before, "Mr. Fenton's all right." + +Ellis, with a nod of comprehension, made ready for his third try. He +started slowly, and then, as the master had suggested, put forth all +his strength in one tremendous lunge. The effort was successful; the +put was a splendid one. Putnam hurried to the spot, measured with +care, and then triumphantly announced: "Thirty-nine, seven and a +quarter." + +Mr. Fenton nodded. "Very good, indeed," he said cordially. "This is a +fine start, Dave." He drew forth his note-book from his pocket, +calculated a moment, and then added: "Sixty-four points; that makes +one hundred and thirty, in two events. This looks like a record." + +With the trials in the high jump, however, Ellis' chances appeared +less favorable. Even to Dick's inexperienced eye, it was evident that +the big full-back was never cut out for a jumper. He ran slowly at the +bar, from the side, clearing it awkwardly, with very little bound or +spring. Mr. Fenton shook his head. "Still the old style?" he queried. +"I thought you were going to try running straight at the bar in your +vacation, Dave?" + +Ellis looked a little shamefaced. "Well," he answered, "I did try it, +Mr. Fenton, but I couldn't seem to get the knack, so I dropped it. It +didn't come natural, somehow." + +The master smiled. "How long did you keep at it?" he asked. + +Ellis considered. "Oh, quite a while," he answered. "A week, I guess, +anyway." + +Mr. Fenton's smile broadened. "I think I told you, Dave," he said, +"before vacation, that you mustn't get discouraged too soon. It's one +of the hardest things in the world when you've once acquired your form +in an event, to try to alter it. I know, in my day, I went through the +experience. And it took me six months before I began to reap the +advantage of the change. Here's a more modern instance, too. I was +talking only this summer with the best pole-vaulter at Yale, and he +told me that to change from the old-fashioned style of vaulting to the +new had meant, for him, nearly a year of steady, monotonous work, with +the bar scarcely higher than his head, before he felt satisfied that +the knack was so thoroughly a part of him that he couldn't miss it if +he tried. Then he put his knowledge into practice, and a thirteen-foot +man was the result. So a week wasn't so very long, comparatively, +Dave." + +Ellis shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I can't jump anyway," he +responded. "I'm going to get the agony over with. I'll have to make up +what I lose here in the hammer." + +The bar was raised, two inches at a time, until four feet ten was +reached. Here Ellis missed twice, and just managed to get over in +safety on his last try. He had plainly reached his limit, and at four +eleven made three disastrous failures. He shook his head ruefully. "I +can't jump," he repeated. "It's no good my trying." + +Mr. Fenton figured the result. "Forty-two points," he announced. "That +brings you up to a hundred and seventy-two. But if you'll practice +steadily at the other style, Dave, and not try to do too much at +first, until you've really learned the knack, you can jump three or +four inches higher, I'm sure. However, never mind that now. The +hurdles are next, and I think you'll make a better showing there." + +Putnam and Allen had been setting out the hurdles on the track. To +Dick, they looked terribly formidable. Ten of them in a row, each +three and a half feet high, placed ten yards apart, with fifteen yards +of clear running at start and finish. "Gracious," he thought to +himself, "how can he ever get over all those without tripping. This +Pentathlon looks like a hard proposition to me." + +Scarcely, however, had Ellis cleared the first hurdle than Dick felt +his enthusiasm return. It was all so different from what he had +imagined--the whole race was so pretty and graceful to watch. When +Putnam fired the pistol Ellis dashed away at full speed; then, +nearing the first hurdle, leaped forward, his body crouched, his legs +gathered under him, cleared it handsomely in his stride, and was off +for the next. Dick felt like shouting aloud, as Ellis swept down +toward the finish. Three strides between each hurdle, and then that +quick forward bound; Dick found himself catching the rhythm of it. +One--two--three--up! One--two--three--up! Ellis cleared the last +hurdle and flashed past the tape. + +The three timers consulted, then Mr. Fenton announced: "Eighteen four; +fifty-two points; that's a total of two hundred and twenty-four." He +figured for a moment with pencil and paper, then turned to Ellis, as +he came walking back toward the finish. "First-rate, Dave," he said. +"A hundred and forty feet with the hammer, now, and you'll beat +Johnson's total. Do you think you can do it?" + +Ellis nodded. "I can do that all right," he answered confidently. +"Just wait a minute, till I get my breath." + +A few moments later he had taken his position in the seven-foot ring, +and was preparing to throw. Dick looked with interest at the leaden +ball, with the slender wire handle, and the stirrup-shaped grips at +the end. "Is that what you call a hammer?" he asked. + +Allen nodded. "Sure, that's a hammer," he answered. "It is a kind of +misfit name, though, when you come to think of it, isn't it? They +really did use a sledge hammer, I believe, once on a time, but they've +changed it so much, you wouldn't think the kind they use to-day +belonged to the same family. Just watch Dave throw it, though." + +Ellis crouched slightly, extending his arms straight out from his +body. He swung the hammer around his head, once, twice, three times, +constantly increasing its speed; and then, at the third revolution, +spun sharply around on his heel and made his throw. It was a splendid +try. The hammer went sailing out, high and far, landing with a thud in +the soft grass half-way down the field. Dick's eyes kindled. "Oh, say, +Allen, but that was pretty," he cried. "That's the best event of all +of them. I wonder if he did a hundred and forty." + +There was a little delay over the measuring. Then Putnam put his +hand to his lips and shouted in across the field, "One hundred and +forty-two eleven." + +Ellis picked up his sweater. "I'm not going to take my other throws, +sir," he said to Mr. Fenton. "I don't think I could better that one +much; and as long as I've beaten Johnson's total, I don't care. I +think, when I get a good warm-day next spring, I can do twenty points +better, too." + +Mr. Fenton nodded. "I think you can," he answered. "It's too cold +to-day to do your best work. Everything considered, your performance +was excellent. If we can increase that high jump a little, you'll be +the next Pentathlon winner, unless Johnson shows great improvement +over last year. And I hardly think he will. His lack of weight is +against him for all-around work." + +Ellis, visibly elated, jogged back toward the dressing-room. Mr. +Fenton and the doctor started to leave the field. The boys who had +been looking on walked after Ellis, in a little group, discussing his +performance. Dick turned to Allen. "Any harm in my trying that shot?" +he asked. + +"No, indeed," Allen answered. "You've got just as much right as any +one else. Go ahead!" + +Dick, a little shamefaced, picked up the iron ball; stood, as nearly +as he could remember, in the same position he had seen Ellis assume; +made a cautious hop, and a slow and awkward put. Yet Allen, watching +where the shot struck, turned and looked curiously at his friend. +"Golly, Randall," he observed, "you must have some muscle somewhere. +There wasn't a thing about that put that was right, but it went just +the same." He paced back toward the circle. "Close to thirty feet," he +said. "That's awfully good for a fellow just beginning. Try another." + +Dick, secretly pleased at the impression he had made, determined to +give Allen a still greater surprise. Promptly forgetting what he had +heard Mr. Fenton tell Ellis, he braced his muscles, made a quick, long +hop, tried to turn, caught his foot in the toe-board, and measured his +length upon the field. Allen roared. "Oh, bully, Randall," he cried, +"I wouldn't have missed that for money. 'Vaulting ambition, which +o'erleaps itself.' That's you, all right. Didn't hurt yourself, did +you?" + +Dick, picking himself up, grinned a little ruefully, as he +contemplated the grass-stains which decorated the knees of his +trousers. "No," he answered; "I didn't, but I surprised myself a +little. I was going to show you something right in Ellis' class that +time. I guess I'll own up that's one on me. I'm going to try that high +jump, though. That's one thing I did use to do when I was a kid. I +don't believe I'll break my neck on that." + +They walked over to the jumping standards. "How high will you have +her?" Allen asked. + +Dick smiled. "Oh, I'm cautious now," he rejoined. "Put her at four +feet. Maybe I can do that, if I haven't forgotten how." + +Allen adjusted the bar. Dick backed away from the standards, measured +the distance with his eye, and ran down the path, increasing his speed +with his last three bounds. Then, easily and without effort, he shot +up into the air, sailed high over the bar, and landed safely in the +pit beyond. Allen gasped. "Good Heavens, Randall," he exclaimed; "what +have I struck? Why, man, you went over that by a foot. You've got an +awful spring." + +Dick laughed. "Well, I had to do something to make up for the shot," +he said. "But, honestly, it did feel good. I haven't jumped for a long +time, though I used to be pretty fair; or at least they thought so at +home. But that doesn't count for very much; it's a big world." + +While they stood talking, the door of the dressing-room swung open, +and Ellis came out, followed by two or three of his friends. As they +passed Allen turned. "Say, Dave," he called; "did you hear about the +new Pentathlon champion?" + +Ellis stopped. "What's the joke?" he asked, not over pleasantly. + +Allen laid a hand on Randall's shoulder. "It isn't any joke," he +replied; "Randall here. He's just been beating all your marks. You +won't have a show with him by next spring." + + +[Illustration: Dick looked vengefully after Ellis] + + +He spoke banteringly, but any allusion to a possible rival always had +a sting for Ellis. He looked Dick over from head to foot; then slowly +smiled. "Guess he'll have to grow a little first," he said cuttingly, +and turned on his heel. + +Two or three of his followers laughed. Dick felt his face grow red. +"Confound him!" he muttered. + +Allen's grip on his shoulder deepened. "Don't you mind," he said +consolingly. "That's Dave, every time. Only one toad in his puddle, +you know. But you wait. If I know anything about athletics, you'll +show him something some day." + +Dick looked a little vengefully after Ellis' retreating figure. The +athlete's words and tone both rankled. "If I could," he said slowly, +"I'd like to--mighty well." + + + + + CHAPTER III + + DICK AND JIM GO ON A SHOOTING TRIP. + + +Two months of the fall term had come and gone; Thanksgiving Day was +close at hand. Dick stood in front of his locker, dressing leisurely +after his practice on the track, and chatting with Jim Putnam, the +captain of the crew. Athletics were uppermost in their talk. They +discussed everything in turn--the arguments, pro and con, for winning +the cup; the chances of the crew, the nine, the track team; the rival +merits of Dave Ellis and Johnson for the Pentathlon; then all at once +Putnam abruptly changed the subject. "Oh, say, Dick," he remarked; "I +was going to ask you something and I came pretty near forgetting it. +What about Thanksgiving? You're not going home, are you?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, it's too far," he answered. "I'm going to +wait till Christmas. I suppose, though, most of the fellows do go +home." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes," he answered, "it's so near for most of them, +they can do it all right without any trouble. I guess you and I live +about as far away as any two fellows in the school. But I was +thinking--as long as we're going to be here--I've got what I call a +bully good scheme. Did I ever tell you about the lake, away up north +of the village, where they get the ducks?" + +Dick shook his head, his interest at once awakened. "No," he answered; +"I didn't know that there were any ducks around here, Jim." + +"Well, there are," returned Putnam; "but most people don't know it. I +didn't get on to it until last spring. I was taking a tramp up through +that way in the spring recess, and I stopped at a farm-house for the +night. The folks were as nice as they could be. There's a young fellow +that runs the farm, and his wife and three or four kids. Well, after +supper we got talking about the country around there and the lake, and +then he started telling me about the ducks. He says there are a lot of +them every fall that keep trading to and fro between the lake and salt +water, and that stay around, right up to the time things freeze. They +leave the lake at daylight and don't come back till afternoon. And +that's the time to shoot them. You set decoys off one of the points, +and make a blind, and he's got a dandy retriever that brings in the +ducks. He only shoots a few. He says he's busy about the farm, and he +lives so far away there's not much use gunning them for market. So he +just kills what he can use himself. But he told me any time I wanted +to come up, he'd give me a good shoot and I've been meaning to do it +all the fall; only the crew has taken so much of my time, I haven't +got around to it. It takes a day to do it right, anyway. + +"So I figured like this. First of all, we'll ask Mr. Fenton if we can +go; but that will be only a matter of form. As long as he knows we're +used to shooting, and are careful with our guns, he'll let us go all +right; that's just the kind of a trip he likes fellows to take. Then +we'll get word up to Cluff--that's the farmer, you know--that we're +coming; and then we'll hire a team down in the village and we'll start +Thanksgiving morning. It'll take us two or three hours to get up +there, and then we'll have dinner, and have plenty of time to get +everything ready for the afternoon. Cluff's got decoys, and I suppose, +as long as it's Thanksgiving, he'll go along with us, and see that we +get set in a good place. Then we'll have the afternoon shooting, and +we can get supper there, and drive home in the evening. It's full +moon, so if it stays clear it'll be as light as day. How does that +strike you, Dick? Are you game?" + +"Am I game?" repeated Randall. "Well, I should rather say I was. I +haven't fired a gun for a year. They laughed at me at home for packing +away my old shooting-iron in the bottom of my trunk; but I'll have the +laugh on them now. I do certainly like to shoot ducks. What kinds do +they have here, Jim?" + +"Why, Cluff says there are lots of black ducks," Putnam answered; "and +pintails, and teal. And some years, if there comes a good breeze +outside, they have a flight of blackheads and redheads. Oh, if what he +said was so, I guess we'll get some ducks all right. Let's make a +start, anyway. I vote we go and see Mr. Fenton now." + +They found the master in his study, and were forthwith questioned and +cross-questioned, with good-natured thoroughness, until Mr. Fenton had +satisfied himself that it would be safe to let them take the trip. +Then, as Putnam had predicted, permission was readily enough +forthcoming, though Mr. Fenton was frankly skeptical as to the amount +of game they were going to bring home. "I doubt the ducks, boys," he +told them smilingly; "but you'll have a fine time, just the same, no +matter how many you kill. And don't forget that I'm trusting you. Take +care of yourselves in every way. Don't shoot each other, and don't +fall into the lake; and be sure and bring yourselves back, anyway; it +won't matter so much about the ducks." + +With many promises of good behavior they left him and hastened down to +the village to hire their team and to send word to Cluff that they +would arrive in time for dinner, on Thanksgiving Day. All that evening +they talked of nothing but their plans; and that night, as Dick fell +asleep, he was busy picturing to himself the appearance of the lake, +seeing himself, in imagination, concealed upon a wooded point, with +the retriever crouching at his side, and a big flock of redheads +bearing swiftly down upon the decoys. So real did the scene become +that half-asleep as he was, he came suddenly to himself to find that +he was sitting bolt upright in bed, trying to bring an imaginary gun +to his shoulder. Then, with a laugh, and with a half-sigh as well, to +find that the ducks had vanished before his very eyes, he lay down +again, and this time went to sleep in good earnest. + +Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and bright, warm for the time of year, +with a fresh breeze blowing from the south, and a faint haze hanging +over the tops of the distant hills. By nine o'clock the boys were +ready at the door of the dormitory, guns under their arms, shell-bags +in hand. Shortly they perceived their buggy approaching, and Putnam +gave a shout of laughter at sight of their steed, a little, +shaggy-coated, wiry-looking black mare, scarcely larger than a +good-sized pony. As the outfit drew up before the door, Putnam walked +forward and made a critical examination; then turned to the driver, a +rawboned, sandy-haired countryman, with a pleasant, good-natured face, +and a shrewd and humorous eye. "Will we get there?" he demanded. + +The man grinned. "You worryin' about Rosy?" he asked. "No call to do +that. She's an ol' reliable, she is. Ben in the stable twenty-five +years, an' never went back on no one yet. Oh, she'll _git_ ye there, +all right, ain't no doubt o' that at all; that is--" he added, "'thout +she sh'd happen to drop dead, or somethin' like that. No hoss is goin' +t' live for ever; specially in a livery stable. But I'll bet ye even +she lasts out the trip." + +Dick laughed, though there was something pathetic, as well, in the +resigned expression with which the mare regarded them, as one who +would say, "This may be all right for you young folks, but it's a +pretty old story for me." "Well, I guess she won't run away," he +hazarded hopefully. + +The man shook his head with emphasis. "No, _sir_," he answered, "I +can't imagine nothin' short of a tornado and a earthquake combined, +would make Rosy run. But then again--" he added loyally, "she ain't +near so bad as she looks. O' course, she couldn't show ye a mile in +two minutes, but that ain't what you're lookin' for. Six mile an +hour--that's her schedule--an' she'll stick to it all right, up-hill +and down, good roads an' bad, till the cows come home. An' that's the +kind o' hoss you want." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, sir," he returned, as they stowed away the guns +in the bottom of the buggy, "horse or man--we're for the stayers, +every time. And if Rosy's been sticking it out for twenty-five years, +we'll see she gets treated right now. I guess she deserves it. All +aboard, Dick?" + +"Sure," Randall answered; then, turning to the man, "You'd better get +in behind. We'll be going pretty near the stable, so we might as well +give you a lift," and somewhat heavily laden they started, with light +hearts, on their journey toward the lake. + +They found their passenger decidedly communicative. "It's lucky for +you boys," he presently remarked, "that you ain't no older'n ye be. 'F +you were men, now, you might fairly be expectin' trouble, 'fore ye git +through town." + +Both boys looked at him with some curiosity. "Why, what do you mean by +that?" asked Putnam. "What's wrong in the village?" + +"Big row," the man answered, "over in the paper mills. They ben havin' +trouble all the fall, fightin' over wages, an' hours, an' most +everythin' else. They'd kind o' manage to agree, an' then, fust thing +you know, they'd be scrappin' again, wuss'n ever. They got a passel o' +furriners in there now," he added with contempt; "guess they think +they're savin' money employin' cheap labor. Mighty _dear_ labor, I +expect 't'll be, 'fore they git through with 'em. These dagoes an' +sich, a-carryin' knives--I do' know, I ain't got much use for 'em. My +opinion, ol' Uncle Sam would do better to have 'em stay home where +they b'long." + +He paused and spit thoughtfully over the side of the buggy, evidently +contemplating with disgust the presence of "dagoes an' sich," on New +England soil. + +"Well," queried Dick, "what's happened? Have they struck?" + +The livery man nodded with emphasis. "Surest thing you know," he +answered. "They went out yesterday, the whole gang, an' they ben +loafin' round the town ever since. Things look kind o' ugly to me. +'Cause the owners, they got their sportin' blood up, too, an' they +sent right out o' town for a big gang o' strike-busters, 'n they got +in this mornin'. So there we be; an' as I say, it's lucky you boys +ain't no older, or you might see trouble 'fore night. Well, guess this +is about as near th' stable as we'll come. Much obliged to ye for the +lift. Enjoy yourselves now, an' don't let Rosy git to kickin' up too +lively, so she'll run with ye, an' dump ye out in a ditch. You keep +her steadied down, whatever ye do." + +With a good-natured grin, he jumped from the buggy and disappeared in +the direction of the stable. The boys, driving onward through the +village, looked around them with interest. The state of affairs +appeared, as their friend had said, "kind o' ugly." Little knots of +dark-skinned foreigners stood here and there about the streets, +sometimes silent and sullen, again listening to the eloquence of some +excited leader, haranguing them in his native tongue, accompanying the +torrent of words with wildly gesticulating arms. As they turned into +the road leading to the north, a dark-browed, scowling striker at the +corner glared angrily at them as they passed, muttering words which +sounded the very reverse of a blessing. Putnam whistled as they drove +on. "Golly, Dick," he observed, "what did you think of that fellow? If +looks could kill, as they say, I guess we'd be done for now. I hope +they don't have a row out of it. Imagine running up against a chap +like that, with a good sharp knife in his fist. I guess it takes some +nerve to be a strike-buster all right." + +Dick nodded assent, but twenty minutes later, strikes and +strike-breakers were alike forgotten, as they left the village behind +them, and struck into the level wood road leading northward to the +lake. The change from civilization to solitude was complete. To right +and left of them, squirrels chattered and scolded among the trees; +chickadees bobbed their little black caps to them as they passed. +Farther back in the woods a blue-jay screamed; overhead, high up in +the blue, a great hawk sailed, circling, with no slightest motion of +his outspread wings. The road stretched straight before them, +narrowing, in the distance, to a mere thread between the wall of trees +on either hand. The wind blew fair from the south; old Rosy settled +down to the six miles an hour for which she was famed. Both boys +leaned back in the seat, extended their legs ungracefully, but in +perfect comfort, over the dashboard of the buggy, and then heaved a +long sigh of well-being and content. + +Dick was the first to speak. "Jim," he observed, "this is great. This +is what I call living. It's just as Mr. Fenton said; this is good +enough as it is if we don't get any ducks." + +Putnam nodded assent. "You bet it is," he answered, "but we'll get the +ducks, too. We'll surprise Mr. Fenton, if we can." He was silent for a +moment, then added, "Say, Dick, you've been here two months now. What +do you think of the master anyway; and what do you think of the +school?" + +Dick did not hesitate. "I think they're both bully," he answered +promptly. "At first I used to laugh at Harry Allen for the way he went +on about Mr. Fenton. I thought it sounded pretty foolish; but +everything he said is so. I can't imagine how any one could be much +nicer. It's just as Allen told me once--he doesn't preach, you know; I +hate the pious kind of talk like anything; but he's just--well, I +don't know--just so darned _square_ to a fellow, somehow. And then, if +you try to do anything yourself--just in little ways, I mean--you've +kind of got the feeling that he's on to it, right away. He never gives +you any soft soap, either, but if you're trying to plug along about +right, you've got a sort of idea that he knows it; and if you're up to +something you oughtn't to be up to, you've got just the same feeling +that he's on to that, too. It's hard to explain; it's just like--just +as if--oh, well, confound it, Jim, I can't put it into words, but you +know what I mean." + +Putnam nodded. "Sure I do," he answered; "and it _is_ hard to put into +words just the way you say. That was the reason I asked. I wanted to +see how it hit you, coming into the school new the way you have. But +it's so, isn't it? He never _talks_ about being good, or about doing +your duty, or any of that sort of thing--he only makes a speech once a +year, at commencement, and that's a short one. But I'll tell you what +I guess the secret is. I could never have expressed it--I'm not smart +enough--but my father was up here last year, at graduation, and I +asked him afterward, when we got home, what he thought it was about +Mr. Fenton that made every one like him so. He said that was an easy +one; that every man, who really made a success of his life, had two +things back of him. First, he was in love with his work, and second, +he had high ideals _about_ his work. And he said you couldn't talk +with Mr. Fenton for five minutes, without seeing what an interest he +took in his school, and in his boys, and that more than making +scholars out of them, or athletes out of them, he wanted to make them +into men. And I guess that's about what we were trying to put in +words, and couldn't." + +Dick thought hard; then nodded. "Well, I guess so, too," he answered, +and then, after a pause, "But now look here, Jim, if that's so, what +do you think about this business of class president? Because that's an +awfully important thing for the school. It shows people at graduation +the kind of fellow we want to put forward to represent the class; and +the honor sticks to him in college, and really, you might say, in a +kind of way all through his life. And you can't tell me that you think +Dave Ellis is the fellow Mr. Fenton would honestly like to see elected +president, now can you?" + +Putnam shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered; "but that isn't up +to Mr. Fenton, Dick; he never would interfere in anything like that. +And I'll tell you why. I met a fellow last summer who was quite +prominent here in the school four or five years ago. We got to talking +about different things and finally I told him about Dave and the +presidency. He said that the year he graduated there was a lot of +feeling in his class over the election and that finally some of the +fellows went to Mr. Fenton and asked him if he wouldn't use his +influence to try and get the right man in. He told them that was +something he couldn't do; that if school life did anything at all it +fitted fellows to meet some of the obstacles they'd have to run up +against later in their lives and that this was just one of the things +they would have to do their best to work out by themselves without +coming to him. And, of course, you can see, when you come to think of +it, that he was right. It's just like a republic and a monarchy; we +wouldn't want even as good a man as Mr. Fenton to rule us like a king. +It's his part to get as much sense into us as he can, and if he can't +make us smart enough to tell a good fellow from a bad one, why, that +isn't his fault. We've got to take the responsibility for that +ourselves." + +"Yes, I see," Dick assented; "but it's too bad, just the same, if we +elect Dave. Because he isn't in it with Allen as a fellow. Harry's +_white_ clear through. But it's funny about Dave. He's certainly got +an awful following; and I suppose he's dead sure to win." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, I think he is," he answered; "and really +you can't wonder at it, either. Athletics count for such a lot +nowadays--too much, I think--and somehow if a fellow is a star +athlete, that seems to blind every one to his faults. And then you +know what they say--that nothing succeeds like success. And Dave's +really done a lot for the school in an athletic way. And they all +think he'll be the big winner this spring; they think he'll land the +Pentathlon, and help win the track meet, and of course that all helps. +And then he's got that kind of a don't-give-a-darn manner. It jars a +lot of the fellows, of course, just as it does you and me, but then, +on the other hand, with a lot of the younger boys, it goes in great +style. I think they imagine it's just about the sort of air that a +really great man ought to have. It's funny to see some of them trying +to imitate it. No, Dave's got the inside track. + +"Allen's the better fellow, of course--Harry's about as nice as they +come--but I don't see how he can win. And it's queer, too, you know; +but his being such a corker in a literary way hurts him just as much +as it helps him. He doesn't mean any harm by the way he's quoting his +old poets all the time, but it doesn't go with the crowd. You know how +it is. If you don't know a thing, and the other fellow does know it, +and you have kind of a guilty feeling all the time that you ought to +know it and don't, why then you sort of square up with yourself by +getting to dislike the other fellow for knowing more than you do. +That's sad, but it's true. And yet, of course, as I say, right down at +the bottom, there's no comparison between the two fellows. Allen's as +fair and square as a die, and the most kind-hearted chap that ever +stepped, nice to everybody, big boys and small. And Dave--well, I +don't know. I wouldn't slander a fellow for anything, but I don't +think I'd trust old Dave very far. Did I ever tell you about Ned +Brewster and the daily themes?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, I don't think you ever did," he answered. +"What about it?" + +"Why," said Putnam; "it happened like this. There's an English course +in college, you know, where they have to write a theme every day. We +have the same thing here, for a month, second half year--English +Fourteen. Well, Ned Brewster was talking to a crowd of fellows one day +about a letter his brother had written him from college, telling quite +a lot about this daily theme business--all about the good ones, and +the funny ones, and a lot of things like that. Ned never thought +anything more about it, but a little while after that Dave came to +him, and asked him if he didn't think it would be an awfully good +scheme to get Ned's brother to have copies of all his themes made and +sent down to Ned, so they'd be all solid for that month of English +Fourteen. Bright idea, wasn't it?" + +Dick whistled. "Well," he ejaculated; "the mean skunk! What nerve! +What did Ned say?" + +Putnam grinned. "Not very much," he answered. "He told me he thought +at first Dave was joking, but when he got it through his head that he +was really in earnest I guess his language was quite picturesque. Dave +hates him like poison now, and it makes it hard for Ned, being captain +of the track team, you know, and Dave being the star athlete. It gives +Dave all sorts of mean little chances to try to make the fellows think +Ned isn't being square about the work, and all that sort of thing. You +know what I mean. He keeps grumbling all the time, and saying that Ned +shows favoritism to fellows he likes, and a lot of rot like that. And +it hurts, too, because there are always some fellows foolish enough to +believe it, and the first thing you know, you've got a split in the +class. However, we're none of us perfect, so I suppose we can't be too +hard on Dave. Maybe we can elect Allen, anyway. Something may happen +in the next six weeks. I know one thing, anyway; Dave's got to hustle +like a good one if he means to keep up in his work. I understand that +he's right on the danger line now, and the mid tears are always pretty +stiff, harder than the finals, I always thought. If he shouldn't pass, +he wouldn't be eligible for the presidency--and as far as that goes, +he wouldn't be eligible for athletics either. Wouldn't that raise the +deuce? I suppose the track team would crumple like a piece of paper +without Dave in the weights and the Pentathlon. Golly, though, that +reminds me, Dick. Ned Brewster says you're the coming man on the +track. Is that straight? Did you really do five six in the gym?" + +Dick nodded. "Well, yes," he answered; "I believe I did. Only once, +though. You know how it is. A fellow will get in a lucky jump, once in +a while." + +Putnam laughed. "Don't be so ashamed of it," he said good-naturedly. +"That's a corking good jump for any one. Some fellows go plugging +along half their lives, and don't get that high. Who can beat it, +besides Johnson?" + +Dick pondered. "Well, I can't think of any one," he said at last; +"still, there may be a lot of fellows I don't know about--" + +Putnam cut him short. "Oh, nonsense," he cried; "don't we get all the +gossip from the school papers, and from the fellows we see? Didn't we +know, the very same day, when Johnson broke the Clinton record, that +time he did five eight and a half? No, sir, you're good for second +place in the high, in the big meet, and that means your 'F.' What more +do you want than that? Your first year at the game." + +Dick was silent. Finally he said hesitatingly, "Well, Jim, I know I'm +a fool, but I'd like awfully well to have some show for the +Pentathlon." + +Putnam looked at him in amazement. "Well, for Heaven's sake!" he +ejaculated. "You don't want a great deal, do you? With Dave and +Johnson both in the game? Why, where would you fit with them, Dick?" + +Randall reddened a trifle. "Oh, well, probably I wouldn't," he +returned; "but you see, they've both got their weak points. Dave's +mighty good in the weights--I couldn't touch him there--but then in +the jump he's really poor, and in the hundred and hurdles he's no more +than fair. And Johnson's a great jumper, and a good man at the hundred +and hurdles, but he isn't up in the weights, by a long shot. I don't +mean," he added quickly, "that I think I can beat either of them now; +maybe I never can beat them; but they could be beaten, just the same, +easier than people think. It isn't as if either of them was so good +that you'd know right away it was no use tackling them; and I don't +know about Johnson, but I don't think Dave's going to improve a great +deal on what he did when school began. He's really pretty stupid about +athletics, just the way he is about books. He can't learn the knack of +that high jump, to save himself. No, they could be beaten, all right, +if a fellow could only get good enough." + +Putnam considered. "Well, maybe that's so," he doubtfully admitted at +last. "What can you do with the shot, Dick? And the hammer?" + +"I'm putting the shot around thirty-five," Randall answered; "but the +hammer is my weak spot. I can throw it pretty well from a stand, but I +can't seem to learn the turn. I can beat Ellis sprinting, though, and +I'm pretty sure I can beat him hurdling. But, of course, the hammer +and shot would make all the difference. Still, it doesn't matter, +anyway--the whole thing--as long as Dave can win for the school, only +I figured that since it was so close between him and Johnson, it would +be better for us to have two men training, in place of one. But I +guess it's only a dream, anyway; I've got to learn to throw a hammer +before I can make any sort of show." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, that's so," he answered. "The Pentathlon's an +event where you've got to be pretty good at everything; you can't have +any one weak spot, where you won't score at all, or you might as well +stay out. Still, if you could get the knack with the hammer, I don't +see but what you really might have a chance, after all. I didn't +realize you could put a shot thirty-five feet. But for goodness' sake, +Dick," he concluded, "promise me one thing. If you get to be the best +that ever happened, _don't_ go and get a swelled head; I've seen that +so many times, where a new fellow makes good. It's natural, I suppose, +but awfully painful for his friends." + +Dick colored. "Of course I wouldn't," he replied with some +indignation. "I don't believe there's much danger of my getting +anywhere, in the first place; but even if I ever did, I wouldn't be +such a fool as that. There's no sense in it. Mr. Fenton gave me a +dandy book the other day--the best book I ever read--_Rodney Stone_. +There's a lot about prize-fighting in it, and it tells about Lord +Nelson, and Beau Brummel, and all about those times. But the +prize-fighting was the best. There's one chapter, _The Smith's Last +Fight_, why, I could feel the shivers running up and down my back, +just as if I'd been there myself. Oh, it was bully! And it comes in, +in the book, how every one of the champions, first and last, had to +meet his match. 'Youth will be served, my masters,' that's what one +old fellow keeps saying, and you can learn something from a book like +that, now I tell you. You can learn that no matter how good you are, +there's always some one that will beat you and the greatest athlete in +the world has to go down with the rest. But it's all right to try to +win, just the same. You want to turn out a winning crew just as much +as I want to see the track team win, but I don't tell you not to get +swelled headed. Come, now, isn't that right?" + +Putnam hastened to assent. "Oh, sure," he answered; "I was only +warning you; I didn't really believe there was any danger. 'And +speaking of the crew, Dick, I think, by gracious, we've got more show +than people imagine. Most of the fellows have an idea that Clinton's +going to win, because they made a fast time row this fall, but I'm not +worrying much over that. They only beat us half a length last year, +and we're seconds better now than we were then. This new fellow, +Smith, is a dandy at three, and Jimmy Blagden is twice the man he was +last spring. He was really the weak spot in the crew, but now he's as +good a bow as I'd want to see. So don't think your old track team is +the only pebble; you're going to hear from us, too. We want that cup." + +For two hours the talk flowed steadily along. Athletics, lessons, the +presidency, the ducks, all taking their turn. And then at last, a +little before noon, they passed the northern limit of the woods; the +lake lay bright and blue before them, and a half mile or so ahead, in +the middle of a sunny clearing, they beheld Cluff's farm. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + THE SHOOTING TRIP'S UNEXPECTED ENDING + + +Evidently visitors in this neighborhood were something of a novelty, +for there was quite a bustle of excitement as they drew up before the +door. Cluff himself came hurrying from the barn to meet them--a sturdy +figure of a man, ruddy and bronzed from constant toiling in the open +air. Colonel, the retriever, barked himself hoarse, trying vainly to +jump up into the buggy, his tail wagging in eager welcome. Cluff's +eldest boy, a tow-headed youngster of ten or eleven, came strolling +around the corner of the house, barefooted, clad in blue overalls, a +straw in his mouth, surveying them with critical interest. The +farmer's pretty wife appeared in the doorway, two of the younger +children peering forth shyly from behind her skirts. No greeting could +have been heartier. Introductions were soon made, and then Cluff +turned to his boy. "Now, you, Nathan," he directed, "take the hoss out +to the barn. And you boys, you come right into the house, and pretty +soon we'll have a bite to eat, and then we'll get started on our +cruise." + +Putnam could no longer keep from asking the momentous question. "How +about the ducks?" he ventured. + +The farmer grinned. "Ducks?" he echoed. "By golly, boys, you certainly +have struck it right. We ain't had a better flight for twenty years. +Lots of marsh ducks, and there's a big raft of redheads and blackheads +been trading to and fro, regular, for the last two weeks, and there +ain't nobody bothered 'em at all. Oh, you'll see plenty of ducks; +there ain't no doubt about that. Only question is," he added +humorously, "whether you can hit 'em or not. I ain't ever seen either +of you boys shoot, so I don't know. What kind of guns you got?" + +They produced them from the rear of the buggy. Jim's was a twelve +bore, hammerless; Dick's a more ponderous and old-fashioned ten-gage +hammer gun. At the sight of this latter weapon, Cluff nodded in +approval, but looked a little askance at the lighter of the two. + +"A twelve bore is good for quail and partridges," he remarked, "but +you need a ten gage for ducks. You want a big gun to stop those +fellers. A ten gage is what I use. Guess I'll put you over in the +marsh, Jim. You can do closer range shooting there. And I'll give you +my wading boots, so you can pick up your ducks yourself. 'Tain't deep +over there, and the bottom's good. Then we'll fit your friend on +Pebble P'int, and give him Colonel to fetch his ducks for him and I'll +go over across to t'other side of the lake, and fit there, near the +cove. That way, we'll keep the birds pretty well stirred up, and it'll +make better shooting for every one." + +An hour later, fortified with a good dinner of turkey and "fixings," +they shoved off from the beach at the easterly end of the lake, Cluff +and Putnam at the oars, Dick seated in the stern, and Colonel curled +comfortably up forward, on the heap of wooden decoys. + +Parallel with the course they were steering, a long strip of land +extended out into the lake, wide and well-wooded at its base, +narrowing gradually to the westward, and ending in the sloping pebble +beach that had given the point its name. Here Cluff backed the boat in +close to land, and set Dick and Colonel ashore; showed Dick how best +to conceal himself in the blind, half-raised, half-hollowed among the +stones; and then, unwinding the cord wrapped loosely around their +bodies, he threw overboard some twenty or thirty of the wooden redhead +and blackhead decoys, each securely weighted with a lump of iron, and +then, with a wave of farewell, again bent to the oars, and rowed off +down the lake. Dick made himself comfortable in the blind, and +whistled to Colonel, who crept in beside him, and curled up snugly at +his side. Dick heaved a sigh of satisfaction. "Now we're ready for +'em, old boy," he said, stroking the retriever's silky ears, "and I +suppose, if they come in, and I miss 'em, you'll despise me for the +rest of your natural life." + +Far down the lake, he watched the boat disappearing against the +outline of the western shore. In front of him, his little flock of +decoys dipped gaily to the breeze, looking so lifelike, that +half-closing his eyes, he could almost persuade himself that they were +really alive. He glanced at his watch. It was half-past two, and Cluff +had said that the flight would begin by three. Yet eager as he was, he +did not grudge the time he had to wait. It was pleasant lying there, +with the warm sun shining in his face; pleasant to listen to the wind, +as it swept through the tree-tops, and to hear the ripple of the tiny +waves against the smooth, clean gray of the beach, flecked here and +there with foam. + +Presently he could see the boat returning, with one figure only at the +oars, and he knew that Putnam must be safely tucked away among the +marshy sedges, at the other end of the lake. Cluff made for the cove, +a short distance to the south, set his decoys, dragged his boat up +into the bushes, and disappeared from sight. All was at last in +readiness. For the hundredth time, Dick looked at his watch. Five +minutes of three. And then, as he glanced up once more toward the +north, he shrank down still lower into the stand. A pair of ducks were +winging their way up the lake, heading almost directly for the spot +where he lay. He watched them eagerly, hardly daring to breathe, and +then, little by little, they swerved, flying closer to the water, and +finally passed, just out of reach, keeping on toward the cove where +Cluff was concealed. All at once, Dick saw them wheel, set their +wings, and sweep gracefully in toward the little flock of decoys. "Why +doesn't he shoot?" he wondered, "Why doesn't he shoot?" + +A puff of smoke leaped from the bushes; a dull report came down upon +the wind. One of the ducks towered straight into the air; the other +Dick could not see. Then, in a flash, the survivor crumpled up and +dropped headlong, motionless, into the waters of the lake. The second +report came borne across the water. Dick drew a long breath. "By +gracious," he murmured, "he can certainly hit 'em, for fair." + +The minutes passed. Then, from across the lake he heard, very faint +and far, the sound of Putnam's little twelve gage; and a moment later +he saw three ducks flying toward the cove. Would they decoy again? he +wondered. Would Cluff get another shot? They seemed to be coming +straight on-- + +"Whew--whew--whew--whew--whew--" came the whistle of flying wings; on +the instant he turned his head, and his heart jumped at the sight. +Unperceived, a flock of a dozen blackheads had come down along the +point, had swung in to him, and now were fairly hovering over the +decoys. Quick as thought, his gun was at his shoulder--Bang! Bang! +sounded the double report and one duck fell dead to each shot. Dick +felt himself trembling like a leaf at the suddenness of it all. +Colonel, awaiting the word, lay quivering at his feet, his eyes, +glowing like coals, fixed on the ducks, as they lay floating in the +water. "Fetch 'em out, old man," Dick cried, and like a shot, the +retriever was down the beach, breasting the waves, head and tail high +in air, like the sturdy veteran he was. One at a time, he brought them +in, and laid them proudly at Dick's feet; then once more crouched in +the stand, waiting until his chance should come again. + +Nor did they have long to wait. Now, far off in the northern sky, the +ducks began to come in a steady flight, flying singly, in pairs, and +in flocks of varying size. The marsh ducks, Dick noticed, made, for +the most part, straight down the lake, toward the point where Putnam +lay hidden in the reeds, and from time to time, the faint report of +his companion's gun came to him over the water, though at such a +distance that Dick could only guess at what luck he might be having. +It was different with Cluff. The cove was so near that Dick could keep +a rough account of the number of ducks falling to the farmer's share, +and it was seldom indeed that a flock swung into the cove, without +leaving one or more of their number behind. + +Dick's own aim was scarcely as good. He put a number of good shots to +his credit, stopping a pair of widgeon with one barrel, just as they +drew together in the air; again knocking three redheads from a flock +of five, passing at full speed overhead, without swinging to the +decoys; and twice scoring a clean right and left on blackheads as they +lowered handsomely to the blind. Yet his kills were offset by some +villainous misses, over which he could only shake his head dejectedly, +and turn away in shame from the reproachful glance of the retriever's +eye. Once, indeed, just at sundown, a flock of about fifty redheads +swung in, at just the proper range, just the proper elevation, just +the proper everything; and yet somehow, flurried by the magnitude of +the opportunity, he waited too long, sighted first at one bird, then +at another, and finally fired one ineffectual barrel, just as the last +bird in the flock was getting out of range. For a moment he almost +wept, and then found a crumb of comfort in the thought that only +Colonel was there to see, and that he could not tell of it, even if he +would. + +All too soon the sun sank behind the hills at the westerly limit of +the lake. Dick left the stand, walked around to relieve his cramped +muscles, and then counted up his bag. Eight blackheads, five redheads, +two widgeon, a black duck and two teal, eighteen in all. He stood +regarding them with pride. Now and again in the dusk he could hear the +whistle of passing wings overhead; once, halfway down the lake, Cluff +and Putnam, returning, fired at some belated flock, and with the +report of their guns two jets of living flame leaped upward against +the dark. A little later and he could hear the sound of their oars; +then presently a dim black shape loomed up ahead and Cluff's friendly +hail sounded through the gloom. "Well, son," he called, "I heard you +dottin' it into 'em. And I saw there was some that didn't get away. +How many did you kill?" + +"Eighteen," Dick called back, "and if I'd shot straight I'd have +killed forty. How many did you folks get?" + +"Jim got fourteen," answered Cluff, "and I scored up twenty-two. Guess +maybe Mr. Fenton's going to be a mite surprised. I told you we'd do +well. You just wait, now, till I take in these decoys, and we'll come +ashore and get you." + +They rowed home through the darkness and trudged up the path, +well-laden with their spoils, glad when the lights of the farm-house +gleamed cheerfully across the clearing, welcome enough in any case, +but now suggesting, as well, the thought of supper preparing within. +And what a supper it was! Just comfortably tired and hungry, the boys +made an onslaught on the fare which surprised even their host, +accustomed as he was to the demands of a healthy country appetite. +"Well, I don't know," he remarked at last, "I rather thought I had you +fellows beat on shooting ducks, but when it comes to putting away +turkey I guess you've pretty well squared up the count." + +By seven o'clock their horse was at the door, and putting in their +guns and their share of the game, they bade good-by to Cluff and his +wife, thanking them again and again for their kindness, and set out on +their homeward way. They were scarcely as talkative, after the first +few miles, as they had been on the way out, but sat in silence, each +living the day over again in his mind. Retrospect had taken the place +of anticipation, and their pleasure, while perhaps fully as great, was +of a kind more tranquil, and less keen. Perhaps, too, the spell of the +night quieted their tongues. The full moon rose high in the heavens, +putting the stars to rout, and lighting the long, straight road ahead +of them almost as clearly as if it had been day. And thus they jogged +steadily along in silence until they had traversed the greater part of +their journey home. Scarcely a sound had disturbed the quiet of the +drive. Now and again they heard the hooting of an owl; once a fox +yapped sharply, and in answer there came a distant, long-drawn chorus +of barks and howls, as if every dog within a dozen miles was giving +answer to the challenge. But of fellow-travelers, either driving or on +foot, they saw no sign until they had come within a mile or so of +town. Then Dick, half lulled to sleep by the steady, monotonous thud +of the mare's feet on the road, started up suddenly, rubbing his eyes, +for ahead of them he saw two shadowy figures, one tall, one short, +striding along the path in the gloom. "Look at those men, Jim," he +said. "I wonder what they're doing out here at this time of night?" + +As he spoke the figures rounded a bend in the path and disappeared +from sight. And then, before Putnam could answer, all in the same +breath, there arose ahead of them a quick, sharp outcry, the sounds of +a scuffle, and then a shrill and frightened scream, echoing wildly +through the silent forest, "Help! Help!" + +As quick as thought Putnam leaned forward, snatched the whip from its +socket and brought it down with all his force across the mare's +flanks. Old Rosy bounded forward under the blow and Putnam cried, +"Load up quick, Dick! Load up your gun!" + +It had been Randall's first thought. Even as Putnam uttered the words +he reached down, drew out the ten bore from under the seat, slipped in +two shells, and sat alert and ready, his body bent a little forward, +his weapon across his knees, as they sped forward, the buggy rocking +and swaying beneath them like a ship in a gale of wind. A moment later +they rounded the curve and Putnam, with a mighty jerk on the reins, +pulled the mare back almost to her haunches to avoid running over the +huddled group of figures fighting in the road. At the same instant +Dick leaped from the buggy and ran forward. + +[Illustration] + +A quick glance revealed the situation. One man was being attacked by +three others, while on the outskirts of the group a little boy +hovered, terror-stricken, still crying out for help. The man upon the +defensive was holding his own manfully. He was tall and active, and +made shrewd play with a stout cudgel, apparently his only weapon, +striving constantly to prevent his adversaries from attacking him in +the rear. Yet three to one was heavy odds; knives gleamed in the +moonlight; and while two of the attacking force advanced warily on him +the third was creeping stealthily around behind just as the boys +appeared on the scene. With a shout Dick leaped forward, discharging +his right hand barrel over the heads of the contestants as he ran. The +effect of his shot was well-nigh magical. On the instant the three men +broke and ran, diving into the bushes as if they knew the country +well. The tall man started to follow, fumbling vainly in his pocket as +he did so, then drew up with a suppressed cry of pain and turned to +his rescuers. "Much obliged," he said. "Just about in time, I guess; +they pretty nearly had me--" + +He broke off suddenly, lurching unsteadily toward the buggy. "Don't +know but what they've done me, now," he muttered. + +Dick could see that his face was deathly pale. "Here, Jim," he called, +"take him and the boy. Drive right in to the hospital. I'll get back, +all right; it isn't far--" He helped the man into the wagon and lifted +the boy in behind. Putnam gave the mare a cut with the whip and the +buggy shot forward toward the town. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + DUNCAN MCDONALD + + +On a Saturday afternoon, a fortnight after the shooting trip to the +lake, Dick Randall and Jim Putnam, on their way across the yard, came +face to face with Harry Allen and Ned Brewster, sauntering leisurely +over toward the gym. The day, although the month was December, was +warm and clear; the ground lay bare of snow; altogether it was an +afternoon when out of doors seemed far more attractive than in. + +Allen, halting them, struck an attitude, raised one arm, and started +to declaim. "Whither away, whither away--" he began, and then, as +Brewster planted a well-aimed blow in the small of his back, he came +abruptly to a stop. "Confound you, Ned," he said, "that hurt. Can't +you appreciate good poetry? I never saw such a fellow. Well, if I've +_got_ to descend to vulgar prose, where do you chaps think you're +going, anyway?" + +Randall laughed, and in a tone of exaggerated deference, answered, +"With your kind permission, Mr. Poet, we are 'whithering away' to the +rustic cottage of Mr. McDonald, leader of strike-breakers, who has now +recovered, and has been out of the hospital for some days. Mr. +McDonald has won his fight; the 'passel o' furriners,' as my friend at +the livery stable calls them, has been put to rout, and Mr. McDonald +wishes to have an opportunity to thank his gallant rescuers in person. +Isn't that what we are, Jim? Gallant rescuers? Of course we are." + +Putnam nodded. "Sure," he answered, "of course. At least you are. I +don't know whether I can qualify or not. I was driving the mare, you +know. But still, on the whole, I believe that took more courage than +fighting strikers. Oh, yes, we're heroes, all right, and we're going +down to be properly thanked." + +Brewster groaned. "My, but you're a chesty pair," he scoffed. "I don't +suppose you'd let two ordinary mortals come along and breathe the same +air with heroes, would you, now? Harry and I were just saying that the +gym doesn't seem to offer much attraction on a day like this." + +Randall bowed low. "My dear young men," he said, "if my co-hero, Mr. +Putnam, the gentleman on my left, has no objection, we will permit you +to go. I think that the sight of virtue rewarded would be a most +useful lesson to you both. Perhaps Mr. Tennyson here might immortalize +the whole thing in what he thinks is verse." + +Brewster mournfully shook his head. "Oh, this is awful," he said, +"we'll have to go with them, Harry. I wouldn't trust them alone, now. +They're so puffed up that one good gust of wind would blow them clear +away, and then we'd be minus our best high jumper, and our star +quarter miler. So come on and we'll look after them. It's hard on us, +I know, but it's our duty to the school." + +They left the yard, walked down past the track, and then struck out +straight across the fields on their long tramp. As they left the +school boundaries behind them Allen turned quickly to Dick. "Well, all +jokes aside," he exclaimed, "your friend's recovered, hasn't he?" + +"Yes," Randall answered, "he's all right again now. They hit him +a pretty good crack on the arm--broke a bone in his wrist, I +believe--and he had a nasty cut in the shoulder, and lost quite a lot +of blood. But they fixed him up at the hospital. It wasn't really +anything serious." + +"How did the boy come into it?" asked Brewster. + +"Why," returned Randall, "it was quite a story. The boy was a French +Canadian. His mother's dead and he was living alone with his father, +up north of the village. The father was one of the strikers, but I +guess he was rather a chicken-hearted kind of individual, for when the +strike-breakers arrived and things began to look squally he got out of +town, and left the little boy up there in the shanty, all alone. +McDonald was the head man among the strike-breakers, and in the course +of the evening he happened to hear about it and he said right away +that he was going up to get the boy. His friends told him he was a +fool to do it, but he said no one was going to bother him, anyway, and +if they did he guessed he could look out for himself. Well, the +strikers got wind of it and three of them laid for him when he was +coming back with the boy. He said it was the neatest ambush you could +imagine. He was on the watch for them, he thought, and he had a +revolver in his pocket, and yet he walked right into them before he +knew it. And I imagine he was having about all he wanted when we blew +along and pulled off the great rescue scene. So that's all there was +to that." + +It was a good hour later when they finally came in sight of the +cottage, standing by itself, far to the southward of the town. +Everything about the place looked neat and clean. There was no sign of +McDonald, but a little wisp of smoke curled upward from the chimney, +seeming to hang motionless against the still, clear air. Putnam turned +to Randall. "Think we've struck the right place, Dick?" he asked. + +Dick nodded. "Seems to answer the description," he replied, and then, +as they started to climb the fence surrounding the field which lay +between them and the cottage he gave a little exclamation of surprise. +"Why, for Heaven's sake," he cried, "talk about your track sports. +What do you think of that, now?" + +The others paused to follow the direction of his gaze. Sure enough, in +the center of the field, between them and the cottage, were a set of +high-jump standards, a take-off board for the broad jump, a shot ring, +and three or four circles for throwing the hammer. They walked hastily +forward, and then stopped, wondering, for, allowing for the necessary +roughness of the field, everything was arranged in excellent style. +Dick examined the ground in front of the standards with a critical +eye, then voiced his approval. "The fellow who fixed up this place," +he said, "knew his business. I believe, on a dry day like this, I +could jump as high here as I could on the field at home. Who on earth +do you suppose is interested in athletics around here? Couldn't be +McDonald, could it, Jim?" + +Putnam shook his head. "No, of course not," he answered. "A man who +works in a paper mill all day isn't going to bother to build a place +to practise jumping and throwing weights. Some of the boys from the +village, most likely, I suppose." + +They walked on across the field and knocked at the door of the +cottage. Immediately they heard footsteps within, and a moment +later McDonald himself appeared on the threshold. He was a tall, +active-looking man, splendidly proportioned, with a keen and +intelligent face. A slight pallor, and a little stiffness in the way +he held his left shoulder, were the only signs which he showed of his +recent encounter. + +"Come in, come in," he cried, "the whole of you. I'm glad to see you, +boys. I had considerable courage to ask you to come way over here, but +the doctor wouldn't let me walk to the school, and I wanted to see you +before I started back to work, to get a chance to thank you, fair and +square, for that night. I guess, if you hadn't happened along, I +wouldn't be here now. There isn't much I can do, I'm afraid, in +return, only to tell you that I shan't forget it, if I ever have a +chance to pay you back for what you did. And I thought--" He rose, +took from the mantel two small leather cases, oblong in shape, and +held them out to Randall and Putnam, one in either hand. "I thought +maybe you'd like to have these for a kind of souvenir--most young +fellows nowadays are interested in such things--perhaps, though, you +boys aren't--" + +The boys took the cases from his hand, pressed the spring which opened +them, and the next moment were gazing with delighted surprise at the +heavy gold medals within. At the same instant they read the +inscriptions upon them, and then, both at once, gave a gasp of +surprise, for the name, traced in tiny letters on the gold, below the +word "Championship," was that of the man who had been known, a dozen +years before, through the length and breadth of the country, as the +foremost athlete of his day. Both boys cried out in chorus. "Oh, +golly!" from Putnam; and from Dick, "_Duncan_ McDonald! Why, for +Heaven's sake! We never guessed--" + +There was a moment's silence; McDonald flushing a little under the +gaze of frank hero-worship which the four boys bent on him. And then, +to break the pause, "Yes, I'm Duncan McDonald," he said, "or what's +left of him. Not quite so spry, I guess, as when I won those, but I +still answer to the same name." + +There was another pause, until Brewster suddenly exclaimed, "Then +that's your athletic field out there. We were wondering whose it could +be." + +McDonald smiled. "Athletic field is rather a big name for it," he +answered. "It's a little place I fixed up so that I could go out once +in a while, on a Saturday afternoon, and throw weights, and jump, just +for the sake of old times. Why, do you boys care for that sort of +thing?" + +"Do we?" cried Brewster. "Well, I should say we did! You see--" and +for ten minutes he talked steadily, telling the story of the cup, the +Pentathlon, and everything else concerning the rivalries of the +schools. As he finished McDonald nodded. "I see, I see," he said. +"Well, that's a nice sporting situation, isn't it? Perhaps I could +help you boys out a little, after all. When the weather gets better, +along toward spring, if you would send your all-around man--Ellis, did +you say his name is--over here, I might be able to show him something +about his events. I'd be glad to try, anyway." + +"Oh, that would be great," cried Brewster, "that would help a lot, I +know. And we've another Pentathlon man right here. We think he'll be +almost as good as Ellis by spring. Stand up, Dick, and be counted." + +Randall laughed. "Don't talk about Pentathlon men," he said, "in +present company. I don't believe Mr. McDonald would see much hope for +me." + +McDonald eyed him critically. "Well, I 'don't know about that," he +said at length. "You've a good build for an all-around man. We all +have to make a start. No one gets to be a champion all at once. By and +by, if you like, we'll walk over to the field; I'll lend you a pair of +spikes and we'll see what you can do. How would you like that?" + +Dick's face was sufficient answer. "That would be fine," he replied. +"You're mighty kind to offer to do it." + +"Yes, indeed," chimed in Brewster, "it might make a big difference to +our chances. We'd like nothing better;" and then, suddenly changing +the subject, "Mr. McDonald," he asked, "if it isn't an impertinent +question, why did you give up athletics? You're not old yet; you must +be as good as you ever were. And I should think working in a mill +would seem awfully slow, after all the fun you've had." + +McDonald smiled. "Well, now, I know how it seems to you boys," he +answered. "I can remember just how it looked to me when I was your +age. But I'll tell you the honest truth. Athletics are a thing you +want to go into for fun, and not for money. If I had my life over +again, as the saying is, I'd stop right short where I turned +professional, and take up some good trade instead. But of course I +couldn't see it then. I was crazy about the game, and I had no money +to speak of, so it seemed to be a choice between quitting athletics, +or turning 'pro.' And I turned. But I've regretted it ever since. It +isn't a sensible profession, you see. It's a job where you're best +when you're young, and with every year that's added to your age, +there's so much of your capital gone. No, professional athletics don't +pay." + +The boys looked only half convinced. "But think," said Allen, "of all +you've done; and all the places you've seen. If I'd won championships +in half a dozen different countries I don't believe I'd swap with any +one." + +McDonald smiled again. "Oh, I did have a good time, when I was an +amateur," he replied, "but all the enjoyment that a fellow gets from +looking back on pleasant memories stops right there. After you've +turned pro, and are out for the stuff, the good sporting spirit is +knocked right out of the thing. You think every man who's competing +against you is a robber who's trying to take away your bread and +butter, and that spoils most of the fun, to start with. And then a man +can hardly make a living if he stays right on the square. There's +always a cheap crowd of betting men who keep after a fellow, trying to +get him to come in on some game that isn't quite on the level. They've +pulled off some funny things, too, first and last. + +"I remember one chap I knew who was a corking good shot-putter. He +joined forces with a couple of betting men and they certainly rigged +up a good plant. It was at a big fair in Canada. The two betting men +dressed as farmers, and then they fixed this fellow up in a blue +smock, and had him drive a cow into the fair. Oh, they staged the +thing fine; and when the shot-putting came off this fellow makes a lot +of talk about what he can do, and picks up the shot, and puts it +around thirty-three or four feet. Then the two betting men make a +holler, and work off a lot of farmer talk about 'that there feller +with the caow'--oh, they do it slick, all right--and that begins to +make fun, and pretty soon there's an argument started, and the two +farmers get excited and fumble around in their pockets and pull out +some old, dirty bills; and finally, there are so many wise guys in the +crowd looking to make an easy dollar, the money's all put up and +covered. + +"The farmers breathe much easier after that--the rest of it is just a +slaughter. The shot man plays the part, though, just to amuse himself. +He gets into the finals--they're putting around thirty-seven feet or +so--and then he makes a great holler about spiked shoes, 'them shoes +with nails in the bottoms of 'em' he says, and at last he pretends to +borrow a pair--which are really his own, that he has given to another +of the gang to keep for him--and he stamps around in those, and spits +on his hands, and goes though a lot of foolishness, and then steps +into the circle and drives her out. Forty-four, ten! And then there's +an awful silence in the crowd among the fellows who've bet their money +against the man with the cow, and they sneak away kind of quietly, and +here and there you'll hear one of them murmur to himself, 'Stung!' And +that's professional athletics for you." + +The boys had listened breathlessly. "Well," cried Allen, "that was a +pretty dirty trick, all right, and yet," he added with a chuckle, +"there's something funny about it, too. It isn't like taking in +innocent people. The other fellows were out to do the crowd they +thought were farmers, and they got about what was coming to them." + +McDonald nodded. "Oh, yes, it's diamond cut diamond," he said. "If you +bet on anything in this world, it's a good idea to get used to being +surprised. But the trouble comes in mixing up a nice, clean game like +athletics with such dirty business as that." He hesitated a moment, +and then went on, "But it's mighty little right I've got to preach. +I've done some things that I regret, and that I'd give a good deal to +have undone, if I could. Because when you're right square up against +it for your next dollar, or maybe your next dime, it beats all how a +man will juggle with his conscience to make a scheme seem right. I'll +tell you what I did once, away out west, if you care to hear." + +The boys' faces, without their eager assent, would have been enough to +tell him that he was speaking to listeners who could talk athletics by +the hour, with never a sign of weariness. And presently he began. +"This happened a good long time ago. It was in the fall of the year. I +was quite a ways from home, and I was discouraged. I'd made +application for a training job for the winter in three different +colleges, and I'd been turned down, for one reason or another, in all +three. It was early in September, just the time for the big fairs, and +though the weather was beautiful, there was a kind of frostiness about +the mornings that made me think of a cold winter coming back home, and +reminded me that I had just two hundred dollars in my clothes, and not +another cent in the whole wide world. It certainly seemed to be up to +me to make some sort of a play, and to make it quick, while I had the +chance. + +"There were three or four pretty good men around at these games, and a +lot of others not so good, but I wasn't particularly afraid of any of +them. I didn't have any great reputation then, to speak of; I'd only +turned pro a little while before; and I'd grown a mustache, and no one +knew me by sight or name. But I had been training all summer, and I +was right at the stage where any athlete, amateur or pro, has the +chance of his life to make a killing; when he knows just how good he +is, and nobody else in the world except himself does know. Well, I +worked things about as well as I could. I went into two good-sized +meets, under the name of Alan Stewart, and never won so much as a +third place. I managed to finish just short of the money in every +event I entered, and then, afterward, I mixed with the betting crowd, +and took pains to do a lot of cheap talking. I told them that when I +was really in form I was the greatest athlete who ever wore a shoe, +and that as soon as I got some money from home I was willing to back +up what I said. + +"Well, I contrived to make the crowd pretty tired. One of the leading +gamblers, a shrewd, wiry little chap, called me down one day in front +of the whole bunch. 'Young man,' he said, 'you talk a good deal, and +it wearies me. Don't you think, if you kept that mouth of yours shut +until you'd earned a dollar to bet on yourself, it would be a good +thing for every one, and make the town a pleasanter place to live in?' +That pleased the boys, but I pretended to get mad over it, and shook +my fist in his face. 'You think,' I said, 'that you can insult me, +because you've got money and I haven't; but you just wait; I've wired +home to San Francisco for some cash and I'll have it for the +Atlasville meet, and then my money'll talk as good as anybody else's.' +That didn't rattle him a mite. 'Well,' he came back, 'if it talks half +as loud as you do they'll know you're betting, away over in China,' +and that pleased the crowd more than ever. So, altogether, I had no +trouble in making a reputation as a conceited young fool--I've +thought sometimes, since then, that wasn't such a strange thing, after +all--and I kept under cover, and lay low for Atlasville. + +"It was a nice affair all right. There was a local weight man, a +fellow named Brown, who was really good; and Harry King, the high +jumper, who was making a regular circuit of the western meets, so +altogether it was a pretty classy field, and I had every chance in the +world to back my good opinion of myself. It was an old game, of +course, but I worked it for all it was worth. As I say, when it's win +out or bust, a man's wits are apt to move quicker than they do other +times. Among my different bluffs, I struck up a great friendship with +a fellow whom I knew to be hand and glove with the betting crowd. I +was sure he'd keep them posted on everything that happened, so I made +him my confidential friend--had him come out to watch me practice, and +told him what a wonder I was, and how I was going to get square with +the betting gang for giving me the laugh, and all that sort of thing. +Only everything that he saw me do, and everything I told him I could +do, was on sort of a mark-down scale. I told him, for instance, that I +was going to put the shot forty feet, and high jump five feet, eight, +and do the other events in proportion, and that I knew the rest of the +men couldn't come near those marks; and all the time I could see how +he was jollying me along, and laughing at me up his sleeve, for he +knew, of course, just what the other chaps _could_ do, on a pinch, and +it was bully fun for him to hear me go on about wiring for money and +betting on myself, and cleaning out the crowd, and such talk as that, +when he supposed, all the time, that separating me from my roll was +just like taking candy from a child. + +"So the time went by. Presently my money arrived, or I pretended to +have it arrive--as a matter of fact, I fished it out of my inside +pocket; and then I went out on a hunt for my gambling friends. I +couldn't get quite the odds I wanted--I still had to make a bluff at +being awfully confident of myself--but I did pretty well, on the +whole, for there were so many of them anxious to get a chance at me +that it wasn't a hard job, after all. I put the bulk of the money on +the shot and the high jump--I happened to be right at my best in both +of those events just then--but I had five or ten dollars on about +everything, and some of it at mighty long odds. Well, the day came. I +shall never forget it, one of those perfect autumn days, warm without +being hot, cool without being cold, if that doesn't sound like a fool +way of trying to describe it, and the whole county was at the games. +Oh, what wouldn't I have given for a thousand dollars, to keep company +with my two hundred, but I didn't know a soul in the place, and I +wasn't looking for any free advertising, either. So I let it go at the +two hundred. + +"I've had days before and since when I've felt good, but that +day--well, I was fit to compete for my life. I began the fun with the +hammer and broad jump; I kept it up with the pole vault, the caber and +the fifty-six; and I finished it with the high jump and the shot-put. +I'll never forget the look on my gambler's face when I got down to +work on my first try in the shot, and the man at the other end of the +tape called out, 'Forty-five eight and a half.' It was a study. And +the high jump. They couldn't believe, out that way, that there was a +man on earth who could trim Harry King. And he was jumping good, too. +We kept together up to six feet, but at six, one and a half, he failed +and I got over, on my second try. + +"Well, I raked in my prize money, and my bets--I'd cleaned up between +seven and eight hundred dollars, all told--and the next day I started +east. I was feeling pretty good till I'd got about ten miles from +town, and then I took the local paper out of my pocket and started to +read the sporting news. Right there was where my good opinion of +myself experienced a shock. For what should I find but a very nice +write-up on Mr. Alan Stewart, describing him as the most promising +young athlete yet seen in the West, and going on to say that as a +matter of local pride, it would be an interesting thing to see Mr. +Stewart matched for a series of events with Mr. Duncan McDonald, the +eastern champion. Just at first I laughed, and then I stopped and +began to think. And the more I thought, the less I seemed to fancy +myself. I never did a thing like that again, and I can tell you, boys, +once more, the pro game in athletics is no good." + +His audience had sat listening with the keenest interest. There was a +little pause and then Allen spoke. "Well," he said, "it was the same +principle, of course, as the man with the cow. But, somehow, I don't +think that was such a terrible thing to do. You weren't deceiving +innocent people. You were up against a crowd of gamblers who wouldn't +have had any scruples about doing you out of your money, and you +relieved them of theirs, instead. And I think," he added, "that the +part about matching you against McDonald was great. I call that really +humorous." + +McDonald nodded assent. "It did have kind of a funny side," he +admitted. "And I don't mean I felt ashamed of myself because I +considered it really a wicked thing to do, because I didn't. But look +here--well, it's hard to express--those two medals I gave you boys +to-day were won when I was an amateur, good and straight. There's no +taint to them. I was in the game then for the fun of it. And I +certainly liked athletics. I don't believe any man who ever lived +liked them better than I did. And so, to get mixed up in the pro +game, well, I felt the way I did once about a man I knew--a big, +fine-looking chap, brave as a lion--who served in the British army. He +got into trouble, no matter how, and disappeared, and I never heard of +him again for years, until a friend of mine ran across him down in +South America--a soldier of fortune, waiting for some little tuppenny +rebellion to come along, to put a job in his way. Well, you know, that +seemed bad to me--I didn't like to hear it--and so, about myself, I +felt as if getting into this betting game, and all that, I was kind of +disgracing my colors--you know what I mean--" + +The boys nodded in quick sympathy. McDonald rose. "Well, I'm getting +to be a regular old woman," he said apologetically. "My tongue's +running away with me. Let's step over to the field and try a little +athletics, for a change. Here's my outfit, in here." + +He threw open a closet door, disclosing upon the floor three or four +shots, two hammers, a fifty-six pound weight, several pairs of spiked +shoes--clear evidence that he still retained, as he had said, his +native love of the game. "Now, then," he said, "if one of you will +take a shot, I'll take the light hammer, and Randall here can pick out +a pair of shoes; then we'll be all right to start. Hullo, here's Joe." + +As he spoke, the door opened, and a little boy of nine or ten, dark +and swarthy, with big, wide-open, black eyes, peered into the room; +then, seeing the visitors, promptly dodged out again. McDonald +laughed. "That's the little fellow you heard yelling for help that +night," he explained. "No one seemed to want him, and his father +hasn't been heard from since, so I've kind of adopted him, for the +present. He's a good little chap, and smart as a steel-trap. But shy +as a squirrel when he sees strangers around." + +Once arrived at the field, McDonald proceeded to put Dick through his +paces. He watched him high-jump with great approval. "Good, man, +good!" he cried. "You've got an elegant spring, and a very nice style, +besides. I'll have you jumping fine, by next May." But over Dick's +shot-putting he was not so enthusiastic, and at the hammer-throwing he +shook his head. "No, no," he cried, "you haven't got the first +principles. You stand wrong. Your weight is wrong. You swing wrong. +You do everything wrong. Here, let me show you. I wish I dared throw, +myself, but I suppose I'd rip my shoulder open. Now look--" + +For ten minutes he explained, illustrated, had Dick throw, again and +again. And finally he good-humoredly gave it up. "I can show you," he +said. "But you've thrown the wrong way so long that it's going to be a +job. Let the hammer go, for the next month or two, and when spring +comes we'll go at it. I'll have you so you'll be throwing a hundred +and seventy feet. No reason in the world why you shouldn't. It's like +all the other things. It's knack--knack--knack--that counts. You've +got weight and size enough to throw it, and when I get the double turn +drilled into you we'll surprise some of these boys from the other +schools. You see if we don't." + +The afternoon shadows were lengthening across the fields as the boys +started on their homeward way. And all through the tramp their tongues +wagged ceaselessly of their new friend, his accomplishments, his +interest, the medals he had given his rescuers, and most of all, how +much his knowledge might mean to them, and to their chances in +carrying off in triumph the coveted cup. Truly, it had been an +eventful day. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + A QUESTION OF RIGHT AND WRONG + + +An air of gloom hung over the breakfast-room. Search as one might, up +and down the long tables, it would have been hard to find one smiling +countenance. Most of the boys were eating absent-mindedly, as if they +had small relish for their food; their foreheads were wrinkled and +knotted, as if their thoughts were far away. To any one at all +acquainted with school affairs, the trouble was not far to seek. The +first day of the mid tear examinations was at hand. + +Of all these troubled faces, perhaps Dave Ellis' was the most moody +and depressed. English Thirteen--how he dreaded it! He had sat up +almost all night, in defiance of the rules, stealthily flashing an +electric bull's-eye on his notes, and now, with aching head and jaded +nerves, he was paying the penalty. His brain was in confusion. Names +of books and authors sang themselves over and over in his mind. Now an +absurd, annoying jingle, "Fielding, Smollett, _Rich_ardson; Fielding +Smollett, _Rich_ardson;" and then, no sooner had he managed to stop +the monotonous refrain than off it went again, "Dickens, Trollope, +_Thack_eray; Dickens, Trollope, _Thack_eray." He groaned, turned +desperately to his cup of coffee, gulped down half of it at once, +scalded himself, and then--it was all of no avail--the tune began once +more. Suddenly, and without warning, he thought of another name, and +to his horror, everything connected with it had gone wholly from his +mind. He glanced despairingly across the table at Allen. "Harry," he +cried, "for goodness' sake, what school did Jane Austen belong to? And +what did she write?" + +Allen gazed gravely back at him. "Jane Austen?" he repeated. "Why, she +was the head of the Romantic school. She wrote _The Maniac's Deed_, +and _Tracked to his Doom_, and _The Bandit's Revenge_. She's been +called the founder of the Modern Romance--Old Sleuth, you know, and +Nick Carter--" + +Ellis had sat listening, his mouth a little open, his eyes troubled, +his whole expression a study in amazed bewilderment. Two or three of +the boys snickered, and at once he came to his senses. "Oh, shut up, +Harry," he cried, "that's an awfully dirty trick--to jolly a fellow +that way. If you felt as rotten as I do--" + +Allen relented. "Well, excuse me, Dave," he said, "but you know what +she wrote, just as well as I do, if you'd only stop to think. She was +the great realist. _Pride and Prejudice_, _Sense and Sensibility_, all +that list." + +Ellis' face cleared. "Oh, yes," he said hastily, "of course. +_Mansfield Park_, _Emma_, and some kind of an Abbey; I've got 'em all +in my notes. But what if it had come on the exam? I never would have +remembered it in the world. Confound English Thirteen. I'm going to +flunk; I know I am." + +With a sigh he returned to his half-finished breakfast. Then, looking +around him, "Pass the salt, Randall," he said, none too pleasantly. + +On Dick, himself in none too amiable a frame of mind, the tone jarred. +He paused, his hand on the salt-cellar. "Did I hear you say 'please?'" +he questioned. + +Ellis' face flushed. "Oh, don't be a fool," he cried, "if you had the +things to bother you that I have, you wouldn't be so particular. +Please--please--please--as many times as you like, only pass it, +anyway." + +Dick complied. "Well, you needn't make such a row about your hard +times," he retorted. "I can't see that you're any worse off than any +one else. These confounded mid-years. They put us all in the same +boat." + +Ellis scowled. "Oh, you don't know everything," he grumbled. "I guess +if you--" + +He pulled himself up sharply, and went on with his breakfast. Five +minutes later, as they filed out of the hall, Allen drew Dick to one +side. "Say," he whispered, "what's our friend Dave got on his mind? +He's awfully down in the mouth lately. Has he ever tried to borrow any +money of you?" + +Dick looked at his friend in some surprise. "Why, yes," he answered +rather unwillingly, "he has. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't have +any I could spare. Why, has he tried you, too?" + +Allen nodded. "Sure," he answered briefly, "and Steve Lindsay, and Ned +Brewster. I guess that's where the trouble is. He must be in some sort +of a money scrape, and that and the mid-years together have got him +feeling pretty blue. Anyway, it looks like that to me." + +Half an hour later the unfortunates who took English Thirteen +assembled in the upper hall. It was Dick's first examination of +importance since he had been in the school, and he felt extremely +nervous. His mouth was dry; his heart was pounding against his ribs. +To divert his mind he looked around the room to see where his friends +were seated. Brewster and Putnam were far away, across the room. +Lindsay was three seats to his right. Dave Ellis was in the next seat, +on his left, and Allen was stationed directly behind Ellis. + +The nine o'clock bell rang, and Mr. Fenton mounted the platform. "Now, +boys," he said cheerfully, "just a word, before we begin. This paper, +for the period which it covers, is fully as hard as the average of the +college entrance examinations. Yet, as a test, it is a perfectly fair +one, in every way; an honest attempt to find out how much you know of +the course. There are no catch questions, or anything of that sort. So +go to work in good earnest. Read the paper through from beginning to +end before you touch pencil to paper; don't lose your heads; take your +time in thinking out your answers. And if there are questions which +you _can't_ answer, they will at least show you where your weak points +are, before the final examinations next spring." + +A minute later, the last paper had been distributed. Dick read the +questions through, slowly and deliberately, as the master had +suggested, and then drew a long breath of relief. It was a "fair" +paper, as Mr. Fenton had said; none too easy, but to a boy who had +taken an interest in the course, and had kept up with references and +outside reading, one almost certain to be passed, and to be attacked +with real interest and enthusiasm. Allen and he had prepared for the +examination together, and Dick saw more than one question where his +classmate's devotion to his "old poets," as Jim Putnam called them, +was now to serve him in good stead. For the better part of an hour, he +wrote steadily; and then, with the easier questions out of the way, +used greater deliberation in answering those which remained. + +Once or twice, as Dick glanced up from his work, he noticed, half +abstractedly, that Ellis, on his left, was sitting always in the same +position, gazing straight before him at his paper, without writing a +word. And then, a little later, as he was about to begin on the +question next the last, a faint cough from his neighbor, three or four +times repeated, attracted his attention. He looked up from his book, +and the next instant a little ball of paper came spinning along the +bench, so well aimed that it stopped just at the left of his +examination book, lying almost within his grasp. Dick hesitated for a +moment, leaned forward a trifle, unfolded the pellet, and read. At the +top, three times underlined, were the words, "Help, please," and then, +underneath, "Who wrote _Barry Lyndon?_ When was Fielding born? Did +Trollope write _The Moonstone?_" Below each question Ellis had left a +little space for the answer. + +Dick felt himself flush, almost as if he himself had been detected in +something wrong. With a quick movement, he thrust the telltale slip +into his pocket; then waiting until he caught Ellis' eye, he frowned +slightly, shook his head in decided negative, and bent again to his +task. + +He finished the paper some twenty minutes before the time had expired, +re-read his answers with care, and made up his mind that no matter +what his mark would be, he had at least done as well as he could. He +sat back in his chair, and looked around him. Most of the boys were +still hard at work. And then, as his glance fell upon his neighbor, he +gave an involuntary start of surprise. Ellis was writing busily, as if +his very life depended on it, yet even as Dick looked, he saw him +pause, and tug gently at his left sleeve with the fingers of his right +hand. Gradually, he pulled a long slip of paper into view, studied it +carefully for a moment, then relaxed his hold, and the paper, +evidently fastened to an elastic of some sort, slid smoothly back +again out of sight. Dick looked quickly away, a feeling of disgust +overcoming him. He had heard of such things, but this was the first +time he had seen actual cheating taking place before his very eyes. +Ten minutes later the bell clanged, papers and books were gathered up, +and the test was over. + +The mid-years lasted for a week; at the end of that time the results +were made known. Dick did fully as well as he had expected. Out of a +total of seven subjects, he had one A, three B's, two C's, and one D. +Harry Allen topped the list with five A's and two B's; Brewster did a +trifle better than Dick; Putnam and Lindsay not quite so well. But the +surprise of the whole affair was Ellis' good showing. It was nothing +brilliant, compared with the records of the really fine scholars in +the class, but he did far better than any one had supposed he would +do, and in those subjects where memory played an important part, his +marks were fully equal to the average. Thus all doubts of his being +eligible for the spring games were removed, and Brewster, as captain +of the track team, heaved a sigh of relief that this anxiety was off +his mind. + +Dick found himself unable to share in Brewster's pleasure. The thought +of that strip of paper, and those cautious fingers pulling it gently +downward, rankled in his mind. He wondered what a fellow ought to do +in such a case. He ought not to tell tales, of course; that wasn't +right; and yet--it was such a downright, dirty trick on Ellis' +part--such a sailing under false colors-- + +And then, one morning, he found his perplexities increased. In the +excitement of the mid-years, he had forgotten another matter of +importance, and now, on the bulletin in the hall, appeared the notice +that in a fortnight the election for class president would be held. +Only two names were put in nomination--those of Dave Ellis and of +Harry Allen--and suddenly Dick felt his doubts increase. Ought he to +keep silence, after all? It was a mean thing to tell on a fellow--he +had always known that--but on the other hand, where could you draw the +line. If he saw a man commit a murder, he would certainly tell the +authorities. There was a duty in both directions, it seemed. And so he +thought and thought, until finally, on one rainy afternoon, he +gathered his four most intimate friends--Allen, Putnam, Brewster and +Lindsay--together in his room, and proceeded to unburden his mind. + +"Look here, you chaps," he began, "I want your advice. This is my +first year in the school, and the last thing I want to do is to butt +in, or to make a nuisance of myself. But I'm in a mix-up about this +business of class president, and I want to put the thing up to you +fellows, and see what you think of it. Of course, I'm with Harry, +as you all know, just as the rest of you are, but we're not the +school--I'm afraid, this time, we're not even a majority of the +school--and I suppose the chances are all in favor of Dave's getting +it." + +Allen nodded. "Sure thing," he replied, "I think I know the sentiment +pretty well. There are forty-two fellows in the class, who are +entitled to vote, and I should say that just about twenty-five were +for Dave, and seventeen were for me. Of course you never can tell, for +sure, until the last vote is counted, but I guess that's a pretty fair +estimate. What do you fellows say?" and he turned to Putnam, Lindsay +and Brewster. + +"That's about it, I think," Putnam answered, and the others nodded +assent. + +"Well, then," Dick continued, "here's the question. In the first +place, Dave Ellis isn't a fit fellow to be president of the class. I +know it, for a fact. A class president is supposed to represent the +school; it's really the highest honor the class can give; and the +fellow we elect, whatever else people might find to say about him, +ought at least to be square. Now, I'll admit that I'm prejudiced +against Dave, because he rather rubbed it into me when I came here +first, and it didn't make things any too agreeable, for a while. But +that's got nothing at all to do with what I'm telling you now. This is +something more than prejudice. Dave isn't on the square, and I can +prove it. He cheated in the English Thirteen exam." + +There was a chorus of surprised ejaculation. Allen alone said nothing. +And then Brewster asked, "How, Dick? Are you sure? That's a pretty +serious charge to make against a fellow, if you can't back it up." + +But Dick seemed in nowise disposed to retract what he had said. "Oh, I +can back it up, all right," he answered. "First, he threw me a note, +asking for help. And after that I saw him pull a paper out of his +sleeve--you know the kind I mean, the ones they fasten to an +elastic--and he was cribbing his answers from that. I saw him as +plainly as I ever saw anything in my life. I'd swear to it, on my +oath. There's no doubt of it at all." + +There was a long silence. Then Dick spoke again. "Well," he asked, +"what ought I to do? What ought we to do, rather? Because it's up to +you fellows now, just as much as it is to me. You represent the +element that stands right back of Mr. Fenton here in the school. +What's the best way to act? We can't go to Mr. Fenton, of course; that +would be a kid trick; worse than what Dave did. But oughtn't we to +tell the fellows? Isn't it only fair, if they want to elect him +president, to let them know first what kind of fellow they're picking +out to represent the class? Or ought we to go to Dave himself, before +we do anything else, and tell him that if he'll withdraw from the +election, and promise not to cheat again, we'll keep our mouths shut +on the whole thing? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot. People +always tell you to do what's right, but they forget to explain how +you're going to know what is right, and what's wrong. So I've come to +you fellows to help me out. Now what do you say?" + +There was a little silence before Brewster spoke out impulsively, "I +vote we tell the whole school. It isn't right that a thing like that +should happen, and a fellow get away with it. It's a downright dirty +trick, I think. I move we tell the whole crowd, right away." + +Putnam shook his head. "No," he objected; "that would be foolish. It's +the worst mistake you can make to blaze ahead too quick, before you've +figured out the things that may happen. Suppose Dave denies the whole +business, what then?" + +Dick's cheeks flamed. "Why, Jim," he cried; "you don't think I'm +lying, do you? You don't mean to say you doubt my word?" + +Putnam smiled. "Of course I don't, Dick," he answered. "I know you too +well for that. But I was thinking of what I've heard my father say, +when he's been talking about his law cases. 'Put yourself in the other +fellow's place,' is his great expression, 'and see what you'd do then. +That will help you in working up your side of the argument.' And +that's a good idea, isn't it, Harry?" + +Allen nodded. "Sure," he replied; "they do something like that in +literary criticism. 'Playing the devil's advocate,' they call it. +Which means thinking up all the possible objections any one might +make, and then going ahead and demolishing them. Yes, that's a good +principle to go on." + +"Well, then," continued Putnam, "here's what occurs to me. Suppose we +do as Ned says, and spread the story through the school. Some one of +Dave's friends will come running to him with it right away, and what's +Dave going to do then? What's to prevent him from saying that Dick is +lying--that Dick's a friend of Harry's, and that this is all a dodge +to get Harry elected? And if he does do that, then how does Dick +stand? Dave's got an awful following here in the school, and there are +some of the fellows, I'm afraid, who wouldn't care a great deal +whether he cheated or not. They might consider it was rather a brave +thing to try a dodge like that, and carry it through without the +master seeing him. And even the decent fellows, who wouldn't stand for +such a thing--what are they going to believe? It's Dave's word against +Dick's and if they believe Dave, it puts Dick in an awful hole. +They're going to say, 'Here's a new boy in the school, who's trying to +make all the trouble he can. And he picks out the best athlete we've +got, and tries to blackmail him. That's an awfully mean trick, and +we'll see that we make the school too hot to hold him?' What do you +say to that, Dick?" + +Dick looked a little staggered. "Well, I hadn't thought of anything +like that," he reluctantly admitted. "I hated to mix up in this thing +anyway; yet it didn't seem right to let it slide, without saying a +word. And if you go through the world on your principle, Jim, you'll +always be keeping quiet, unless you're sure you can prove what you set +out to prove. And there are times, I should think, even when you know +you're going down to defeat, where you would have to speak out, just +because it's the right thing to do. At least, I should think that was +what Mr. Fenton would say." + +Lindsay, usually a boy of the fewest possible words, spoke up quickly. +"You're right, Dick," he said. "This is too important a thing for us +to let go. Whether you get into trouble or not, isn't the point. It's +a question of our duty to the school. Let's get Dave in here, now, and +see how he acts. He may get scared, and own up to everything. If he +doesn't, then we can make up our minds what we ought to do next. What +say, Harry?" + +Allen had been unusually silent, although listening with the keenest +interest to all that was being said. Now he nodded. "I think that's a +good idea," he said. + +Lindsay rose. "Any objection?" he asked of the room in general. No one +answered, and he went out, and a few moments later returned, bringing +Ellis with him. + +If the boy who was about to be accused had any suspicions of what was +going to take place, he concealed them admirably. "Hullo, fellows," he +said; "what's this gathering for? Track team, or crew?" + +Lindsay, acting as spokesman, wasted no time in beating about the +bush. "It's neither, Dave," he said at once, "it's a meeting on the +class presidency." + +Ellis smiled. "Rather an Allen crowd, I guess," he remarked. "I don't +see what you want _me_ for. I'm going to vote for myself, I'll tell +you that now. So Harry needn't waste any politeness on me; he can vote +for himself, too, and then we'll be square." + +He had thrown himself back into a chair, perhaps a little too +elaborately at his ease. Lindsay spoke again. "We're not here in +Harry's interests, Dave," he said quietly, "we're here in the +interests of the school. We believe you have the better chance of +being elected president, but there's a matter that we should like to +have explained. We want the president of the class to be a fellow +above suspicion in every way, and we want to ask you whether it is +true that you were seen to cheat in the examination in English +Thirteen?" + +Ellis looked at him with well-assumed indignation. "I? Cheat?" he +echoed; "well, I guess not. Who the devil dares to say such a thing as +that about me? I'll punch his head for him." + +Lindsay turned to Randall. "Fire away, Dick," he said. + +Dick did not flinch, but looked Ellis squarely in the eye. "I was +telling these fellows, Dave," he said, "that I didn't think you were +the man to represent the class as president. I've told no one else, +but I've told them, in confidence, what you did in the English +Thirteen exam. That you first asked me for help, and then cribbed from +that paper up your sleeve--" + +He got no further. Ellis leaped to his feet, his face white with +wrath. "You liar!" he cried. + +Dick in his turn started from his seat, his face as angry as Ellis' +own. "Hold on," he cried sternly. "I don't like that word, Dave. You'd +better take that back." + +Ellis sneered. "Not by a long shot," he answered, "that's what you +are. And how you've got the nerve to start a story like that--" + +Dick drew a little piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to +the boy he was accusing. "You didn't pass me that in the exam?" he +demanded. + + +[Illustration: Ellis leaped to his feet, with wrath] + + +Ellis' denial was almost too ready. "Of course I didn't," he flung +back, "that's not my writing. I never saw the paper before. I never +cheated in an examination in my life. You're playing dirty politics, +Randall, to help Allen; that's what you're doing. But you can go +ahead. It won't hurt me. I'll tell the story myself, to every boy in +the school, and they can judge who's lying, and who isn't. You'd like +to see me in a scrape, I guess, so you might have a chance at the +Pentathlon, with me out of it. Oh, I'm on to you and your schemes--" + +He was storming on, half beside himself with rage. But as he uttered +the words, Allen looked quickly up at him, as if taking a sudden +resolve. "Just a minute, Dave," he said. His tone was quiet, but there +was that in his voice which made Ellis pause, half against his will. + +"Well?" he queried, "what have you got to say?" + +Allen turned to the others. "Fellows," he said, "this is a dirty +business--the whole thing. It makes me sick and disgusted to be mixed +up in it. But I've no choice now. I've kept my mouth shut, because, +since I was running against Dave, it put me in rather a queer +position, and I thought I'd better not speak. But now that Randall's +good name is brought into it, I'll tell you what I know. Dave did +cheat. I sat behind him in English Thirteen. I saw him write the note +and pass it. I saw him use the paper up his sleeve. And he worked the +same trick again in History Four." He swung around to Ellis. "Dave," +he said, "you have no right to be running for president, and you know +it. You'll withdraw right away, or I'll give this story to the school +myself. And one thing more. You're trying to make Dick Randall out a +liar. Dick's gone into this thing against his will and risked a chance +of getting into trouble, for the sake of the school. It was a plucky +thing for a fellow to do, and if you breathe one little word to +slander him, I'll do something that I wouldn't do in any other case +for anything under the sun. I'll go straight to Mr. Fenton with the +whole story. And you can take your chance on an investigation. Now +then, will you pull out, or not? You can have your choice." + +There was a tense silence. An utter change had come over Ellis' face. +He had the look of an animal hunted down. "You're mistaken, Harry," he +said at last, with an effort at composure, "you're mistaken, I assure +you. You don't understand--" + +His stammering sentences died away on his lips. No one spoke, and +presently Ellis seemed to make up his mind. He raised his head with an +expression of resolve. "Look here, you fellows," he said, "I don't +want to make any trouble over this thing. But there's something else +comes into it, that you don't know. I'm in a row over some money +I--lost--and if I don't get it pretty soon, I'm going to be in an +awful hole. I might have to leave school," he added craftily, "and +then I'd be out of it for the Pentathlon. Let's compromise this, all +around. I'll pull out of the presidency, and give Harry a walk-over, +and we'll let the business of the English exam drop. It will be the +best for every one. If I did anything I ought not to have done, I'm +sorry. I was doing it for the school, so that I wouldn't be cut out of +the spring athletics. Why don't you fellows, among you, raise me two +hundred dollars, and we'll let things go on, just as if nothing had +happened at all." + +The very effrontery of the proposal almost took away his listeners' +breath. Finally Allen spoke. "No, Dave," he said, "that isn't quite +the way we do things here. We don't buy our athletes. We want the cup, +all right, but we want it on the square. And if you cheated for the +sake of the school, I'll only say that's the most remarkable way of +showing school spirit that I've heard of yet. No, you will have to +withdraw from the presidency, and give us your word never to cheat +again. And if you'll do that, we'll let this whole matter rest. I +don't know whether that's the fairest way or not, but I think it is. +If you're not up for office, it's a private matter then, and one that +there's no need of publishing around. So it's up to you, Dave. Quit or +not. We'll meet you half-way, whatever you do." + +Ellis scowled, and bit his lip. He thought for some moments in +silence, then turned to go. "I'll let you know in two days," he said. +"You keep quiet till then, and so will I." + +He took his departure, leaving the group behind him busy with +speculations as to what he meant to do. Yet no one even dreamed what +his final decision would really be, and it came to them with a shock +of surprise and disgust. For two days later, they learned that Dave +Ellis had suddenly left school, and a week after that, Jim Putnam +burst quickly into Dick's room, where he and Allen sat studying. +"Golly, fellows," he shouted; "what do you think now? Dave's got it in +for us, all right. He's entered Hopevale, and I'll bet a dollar it +costs us the cup." + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + A BATTLE ROYAL + + +It was four o'clock on a bright, warm afternoon in early May. Mr. +Fenton, walking briskly toward the athletic field, stopped for a +moment at the entrance, to gaze at the scene before him. In the +ball-field, beyond the grandstand, the nine was playing a practice +game against the subs. The tennis courts were filled, and the track +and field men were putting the finishing touches to their afternoon's +work. Ned Brewster, captain of the track team, was standing by the +side of the high-jump path, and Mr. Fenton, as he crossed the field, +stopped for a moment to talk with him. "Well, Ned," he queried, "what +are our prospects? Will we draw first blood in the track meet next +week, or will Ellis' desertion cost us the games?" + +Brewster hesitated. "I don't really know, sir," he said at last. "A +week ago, I should have said that everything looked fine, but now I'm +not so sure. You see, Greenough's injury makes a big difference. I +think he would have been certain of the hundred, and would have taken +second in the two twenty, besides, but pulling that tendon puts him +out of everything. The doctor says he can't possibly go into the meet. + +"And then there's Dick Randall--I was never more disappointed in a +fellow in my life. A fortnight ago, he was coming fast--his friend +McDonald was simply doing wonders with him. Why, one Saturday +afternoon I went over there with Dick, and he was certainly in great +form. I measured everything myself, or really I could hardly have +believed it. He did five seven in the high, and he cleared the bar by +an inch and a half at that. He did twenty feet ten and a half in the +broad, on his first try, and McDonald told him not to jump any more-- +that that was good enough. And then he took his six tries with the +shot, and did thirty-eight three. McDonald told me that day that if he +could bring Dick up a little in the hammer, and if he'd get a little +faster at the hundred and the hurdles, that he'd give Ellis and +Johnson the fight of their lives in the Pentathlon. And then, just +when all he needed was a little improvement, instead of going ahead, +he started to go back, and he's been growing steadily worse ever +since. It doesn't seem to be his fault, you know; he feels more +disappointed about it than any one. He never sports at all, and he's +the most conscientious worker on the squad. But there's something +wrong. He isn't nearly so good as he was two weeks ago. You just watch +him now. The bar is only five feet four." + +Mr. Fenton looked on attentively, as Randall prepared to jump. There +seemed to be a nervous hesitancy about his style. He started twice on +his run before he could seem to catch step correctly, and even then, +he ran more slowly than usual, as if he lacked confidence in himself, +and rose awkwardly at the bar, without much of his former spring. Yet +even with these faults, the attempt was none the less a good one. His +body was higher than the stick, and he seemed, indeed, just on the +point of clearing it in safety; but the necessary momentum was +lacking, and despite his efforts, he fell heavily on the bar, knocking +it off for the third successive time. He walked dejectedly out of the +pit, and stood gazing at the uprights with wrinkled brow, as if +striving to figure out the reason for his failure. Mr. Fenton walked +over to him. "That was a good try, Randall," he said cheerfully. "A +little more speed, and you would have had it. How are you feeling +these days? Pretty well?" + +Dick paused a moment before answering. "Well, to tell the truth, sir," +he said at last, "I don't know what's got into me lately. I was doing +quite well, two weeks ago, but now I'm no good at all. My weight is +all right, and I feel all right, but I don't seem to have any ginger +about me. Why, a month back I should have laughed at five feet four; I +should have called that just a practice jump; and now today I try my +hardest, and miss it three times running. And I've gone back in the +broad jump--I can't do twenty feet now--and I'm not up to standard +with the shot, either. The hammer is the only thing I've improved +with, and I was so bad with that I couldn't very well have grown +worse. Taking everything together, I'm really doing about as badly as +a fellow could; and I don't see what the trouble is. I never practised +so hard; I never thought so much about my events; I'm really +discouraged." + +Mr. Fenton glanced him over critically, from head to foot. He seemed +worried and anxious, and while he appeared to be well up in weight, +and while his muscular development was better than ever, his color was +none too good, and his face looked somewhat drawn. Mr. Fenton gave a +little nod, like a doctor who diagnoses a patient's condition. "Well, +you look pretty well," he said, "but of course you've been doing quite +a lot of work. I should say, in the trainers' language, that you were +a little 'fine.' Why don't you take a rest, a complete rest, from now +until the day of the games?" + +Dick shook his head, without intending it, a little impatiently. "Oh, +I couldn't, Mr. Fenton," he answered. "There's so much to learn yet, +if I go into the Pentathlon. There's a knack I'm trying to work out in +the broad jump, and that confounded hammer does bother me so. I think +and think about it, and finally I imagine I've got the idea, and then +I go out the next day and practise, and find I'm worse than ever. Why, +one night, I even dreamed about it. I thought I threw it two hundred +and fifty feet, and broke the world's record. Oh, but it felt fine. I +was taking three turns, and spinning around like a top, and when I let +it go, it went sailing off as high as the roof of a house. So the next +morning I tried to remember how I stood in my dream, and how I swung +the hammer, and everything, and then I went out in the afternoon and +tried to put it all into practice and what do you suppose? I fouled +about a mile, and got all tangled up in my feet, and fell down, and +pretty nearly broke my neck; so I've lost all faith in dreams." + +Mr. Fenton smiled. "I don't blame you," he answered, then added, "How +have you been sleeping this last week or two, Randall? As well as when +you came here first?" + +Dick hesitated; then a little unwillingly replied, "Why, I haven't +been sleeping so awfully well. It seems to take me a long time to get +to sleep, to start with, and then I usually have some crazy nightmare +or other about athletics, and then I wake up with a jump about three +or four in the morning, and can't get to sleep again. But I feel all +right, just the same. I'm not sick, sir." + +Mr. Fenton laughed. "No, you look fairly rugged to me," he answered; +"but take a rest from now on, Randall. Don't do any more work +to-night; go in and get your rub; and forget all about athletics for a +while." + +Dick nodded, picked up his sweater, and jogged off across the field. +The master walked back to where Brewster was standing. "Well, Ned, +there's no mystery about your Pentathlon man," he said, "it's as clear +as day. He's going 'stale,' as the trainers say; he's been doing too +much work. I don't mean too much for his health. That's all right, or +the doctor would have notified me. But Randall's a fellow with nerves, +in spite of his strength. And he's lost just enough energy, with all +the work he's been doing, to take the edge off his speed and his +spring. You must tell him to quit, right where he is; to lock up his +spikes and his athletic clothes; and not to come near the track again +until the day of the games. If he will do that, you will have him +ready for the meet, in as good shape as he ever was in his life. I +feel sure of it." + +That evening Brewster went over the whole situation with Dick, and +gave him his orders, to be carried out to the very letter. Dick +promised to obey, and yet to keep from worrying was no easy task. The +whole school could talk of nothing but the coming games. Every one was +going around, with paper and pencil, figuring the final distribution +of the points. There were twelve events altogether; first place +counted five, second two, and third one; a total of ninety-six. School +spirit ran high, and no one figured in any other way except to give +Fenton the victory. Forty points was the favorite figure, and about +thirty each for Hopevale and Clinton. It was an interesting, if rather +unprofitable employment. And for Dick to keep out of the prevailing +excitement was next to impossible, especially when his schoolmates +would say, "We've got you figured for second in the high, Dick," or +"Do you think you can get third in the broad?" + +Again, the program of resting, and keeping away from the field, +worried him more than anything else. Accustomed as he was to his daily +exercise, his muscles, after the first day's lay-off, began to +stiffen, and lacking the experience to know that this was something +which would disappear with his rub-down, and his first trial jump in +the competition, Dick fretted over it as if it had been some serious +muscle strain. Yet somehow, the week went by, and the day of the games +came at last. + +It was a perfect afternoon, just pleasantly warm and still, with no +wind to trouble the distance runners on either stretch. The games were +scheduled for two o'clock. By one, the Clinton athletes had arrived; +shortly afterward, the Hopevale team put in an appearance; and by +half-past one the grandstand and the bleachers were filled, and the +boys were beginning to limber up on the track. Dave Ellis, with the +blue "H" of Hopevale on his chest, seemed in nowise embarrassed at +thus revisiting his old quarters, but came out to practise with the +rest, and put the shot well over thirty-eight feet in a preliminary +try. Shortly afterward, Dick had his first glimpse of Johnson, the +mainstay of the Clinton team. He was a good-looking, pleasant-faced +boy, who went about his "warming-up" so quietly and unobtrusively that +one would scarcely have selected him, at first, for an athlete of +prominence. Yet Dick, watching the play of his long, smooth muscles, +and noting how easily and springily he moved up and down the track, +knew that he was looking at a first-class man. + +Promptly, at five minutes before two, the clerk of the course came +hurrying across the field. "All out for the hundred," he called, +"hundred yards, last call. All out for the hundred." The games had +begun at last. + +Dick took his seat on the balcony of the dressing-room, and gazed out +at the animated scene. All at once it occurred to him that if he were +only a spectator, and not a contestant, he should be thoroughly +enjoying the whole affair. It was an inspiriting sight; the level +green of the field, the darker oval of the track, the grandstand, +bright with color; and now, walking slowly over toward the start of +the hundred, the six contestants, two from each team, each bound to do +his utmost to score for his school. He could distinguish Steve +Lindsay; the tall figure of Harris of Clinton, the favorite, +conspicuous in his striped jersey of red and black; and the figures of +the two Hopevale men, of whom little was known, with the light blue +"H. A. A." on their shirts. There was the usual warming-up, a word or +two of caution from the starter, and then his whistle blew loud and +shrill. There came an answering wave of a handkerchief from the spot +where the judges and timers stood grouped around the tape. + +In the hush that followed, Dick could hear the starter's voice sound +sharp and clear across the field. "On your marks!" The six figures +crouched. "Get set!" They bent forward, tense, expectant. And then a +puff of smoke from the starter's upraised pistol--"Bang!" and they +were off, to a perfect start. Dick's hands clenched; his eyes strained +to distinguish the entries from his school. For a moment the crowd was +silent, and then, as the first thirty or forty yards were covered, and +the runners began to separate and draw apart, there arose a tumult of +shouts and cheers, above it all the cries from Fenton, "Lindsay! +Lindsay! Lindsay!" It was true enough. Lindsay was ahead, a foot or +two in front of Adams of Hopevale, with Harris several yards behind. +At fifty yards it was the same--and at sixty--and then all at once +Harris seemed to settle to his stride. He drew up on the leaders with +a rush, at eighty yards was on even terms, and then, forging steadily +ahead, crossed the line a safe winner, with Lindsay just beating out +Adams for second place. In a moment, Dick could hear the scorer's +stentorian tones echoing over the field. "Hundred yards dash--won by +Harris of Clinton; Lindsay of Fenton, second; Adams of Hopevale, +third; time, ten and two-fifths seconds." And then, on the big score +board at the end of the field, the huge figures were hoisted that all +might see. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 5 2 1 + + +With the cheers of the Clinton delegation still ringing out on the +air, the runners came jogging back to the dressing-rooms, and the next +event--the hundred and twenty yards high hurdles--was called. Already +the men employed on the field were setting out the obstacles on the +track. There were but four entries, for Barker and Jones, the Hopevale +hurdlers, so far outclassed their field that Arnold of Clinton, and +Taylor of Fenton had been entered with no hope of first or second, but +merely to battle for the single point which would reward third place. +Yet the race displayed the uncertainties of athletics in general, and +of the high hurdles in particular; for while Barker, the winner of the +previous year, took the lead at the start, and was never headed, +Jones, his team-mate, loafing comfortably along in second place, got +in too close at the sixth hurdle, struck it heavily, staggered a few +steps, and plunged headlong into the seventh, bringing it down with +him to the ground. After this disaster, there was no hope of a +recovery, and Arnold took second place, and Taylor third, making +unexpected and welcome additions to the winnings of their schools. The +figures on the blackboard were shifted, and Clinton's lead was +reduced, while the Fenton score looked somewhat small beside the other +two. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 7 3 6 + + +So ran the totals, and even as Dick studied them, the clerk's cry +sounded quick and sharp, "All out for the quarter; all out for the +mile; all out for the pole vault, hammer throw, broad jump." Dick +started. For the moment he had almost forgotten that he was to compete +at all. Quickly coming to himself, he rose, picked up his spikes, and +made his way down-stairs and across the field. Just ahead of him were +Harry Allen, Jack Morrison and Jim Egan, the three Fenton entries in +the quarter, and Brewster himself, rated as sure winner of the mile, +came jogging up behind him, and fell into step by his side. "How's +your courage, old man?" he asked. + +"Oh, pretty fair," Dick answered, "we haven't made much of a start, +though." + +Brewster shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, never mind the hundred and the +hurdles," he said, "we didn't count on much there, anyway. But we'll +score big in the quarter, I think; and if I don't go to pieces in the +mile, we might get something there, too. You tear down at that old +take-off, now, Dick, and we'll rip those A's off your shirt for you +to-night. You get us a point, anyway." + +"I'll do my best," Dick replied, and an instant later he was answering +to his name, with the half-dozen other contestants in the event. +Stripping off his sweater, he took an easy practice jump, and as he +did so, a great load seemed lifted from his mind. He knew that he had +recovered his spring, and the excitement of the competition made him +feel that he could beat anything he had done in practice. "I guess Mr. +Fenton knew what was the matter with me, all right," he murmured to +himself. + +His name was the first called. He made his mark at exactly fifty feet +from the take-off, laid the sleeve of his sweater at the edge of the +path, and walked back another forty feet or so for his preliminary +run. He tried to remember all the instructions that McDonald had given +him, but in his excitement, he could think of little more than of +hitting his mark correctly, and of getting a good lift into the air. +"All ready," cried the scorer, "Randall, Fenton, first try." + +Dick stood erect, drew a long breath, and then, with muscles +tense and rigid, began his run. One--two--three--four--five--six-- +seven--eight--came his preliminary strides, and he sensed, rather than +knew, that he had brought the toe of his jumping shoe just even with +the sweater's crimson sleeve. And then, for the last eight strides, he +ran with every ounce of energy he possessed; bang, he hit the take-off +fair and square, and landed far out in the pit, his knees thrown well +in front of him. There was a ripple of applause from the grandstand, +and he knew that the jump must at least have been a fair one. He stood +waiting at the side of the pit, while the measurers did their work. +Then the man at the farther end of the tape straightened up, +announcing, "Twenty feet, six and one-quarter." + +Dick jogged back, well satisfied. The distance was nearly as good as +his best, and he felt confident of qualifying for the finals. Two or +three of the other contestants jumped in the neighborhood of nineteen +feet, and then Harding of Hopevale jumped twenty feet, three. No one +else equalled Dick's mark until Johnson's name was called. The Clinton +athlete stood waiting for the dirt to be raked over in the pit, and +Dick found himself, half against his will, admiring the Pentathlon +man's graceful, clean-cut build. He was an inch or two taller than +Dick, not so broad-shouldered or so muscular, but with that +indefinable stamp of the athlete, which for want of a better word, we +characterize as "rangy." As he started for his jump, Dick watched him +critically, noticing that he ran hard, with his knees lifted well into +the air, and then, as Johnson struck the take-off, and leaped, he gave +a little gasp of surprise. Here was form, indeed, beside which the +efforts of the others appeared as nothing. This was no mere run from +the board; it was a real jump. Johnson shot into the air, feet in +front of him, sailing along like a cannon ball. Instantly, the +grandstand burst into a shout of applause. From the Clinton section +came a continued burst of organized cheering, and the announcer threw +an extra impressiveness into his voice as he shouted, "Mr. Johnson +jumps twenty-one, three and three-quarters." + +Johnson came walking back, a smile on his face. Dick accosted him +good-naturedly. "That was a dandy," he said. "You can have this event, +I guess. You won't have to jump again." + +Johnson took the other's speech in good part. "Oh, I don't know," he +answered, sitting down at Dick's side and drawing his bath-robe around +his knees. "You can't ever tell till the last man's had his last try." +Then, after a little pause, he added, "Are you going to try the +Pentathlon, Randall?" + +Dick nodded. "I think so," he answered, "though I don't expect to do +much against you and Ellis. Still, I guess I'll give it a try, anyway. +There doesn't seem to be any one else to represent the school. But if +I can't win," he added, "I tell you, right now, I hope you give Ellis +the worst licking he ever had in his life." + +Johnson nodded. "I know just how you fellows feel about Ellis," he +said, "and I don't blame you a bit. A chap that will leave his school +in the lurch like that can't have much of the right stuff in him. But +I don't know about licking him. He's awfully good in the weights. And +the Hopevale crowd say that since he came there he's improved a lot, +too. I don't know whether it's so or not, but they claim he's beating +forty feet with the shot, right along. And that he's throwing the +hammer a hundred and sixty. But you can't tell. They may be trying to +scare us, so we'll think it's no use to enter, even. Never can tell +beforehand--that's my motto in athletics." + +Dick nodded, and was about to answer, when the scorer called, +"Randall, second try." Dick rose, and was making ready for his run, +when the scorer waved him back. "No, don't jump, Mr. Randall," he +cried. "Sit down again, please. Wait till they run the quarter mile." + +Dick nodded, and complied. Every eye in the field was turned on the +start of the quarter. The nine athletes stretched straight across the +track. Dick saw that Morrison of his own school was on the pole; that +Harry Allen was sixth in line, and that their third entry, Egan, was +on the extreme outside. "Bang!" went the pistol, and the runners were +off, in a mad burst for the lead to the first turn. There was little +to be distinguished for a moment or two, and then, as they rounded and +squared away for the back stretch, Dick's heart gave a great leap of +excitement. Morrison had held his lead, Egan had cut clean across in +front of the others, and was second; only Allen lay back, in seventh +position, apparently "pocketed" and unable to extricate himself. Up +the stretch they swung, in steady, rhythmical procession; from across +the field one would have said that they scarcely moved; so greatly did +the added distance deceive the eye. Once a Hopevale runner spurted and +tried to pass the leaders, but they quickened their pace in turn, and +he fell back into the ruck, beaten and exhausted. Dick could not take +his eyes from Allen's figure. He hardly realized, until that moment, +how much he cared for his friend; he felt as if he himself were +running the race; under his breath he was muttering, "Go it, Harry! Go +it, old man!" + +Around the curve they swung, and squared away for home. A great shout +came from the grandstand "Fenton, Fenton, Fenton!" and then "Morrison! +Egan!" "Go it, Morrison! Go it, Egan!" again and again. + +It was a Fenton victory; there was no doubt of that. The two runners +were yards ahead of the field, and though both were tiring, they +seemed certain of keeping their lead to the tape, well ahead of the +rest. Dick felt a mixture of emotions. He was glad, first of all, of +course, for the school, and yet, mingled with his joy, there was a +tinge of sorrow for his friend. For he knew Allen's ambition had been +to wind up his last year with a win, and he felt that after all the +work he had done, it would be only a fair reward. Yet, barring the +impossible, Allen was beaten. And then, while all these thoughts were +flashing through his brain in a hundredth part of the time it takes to +put the words on paper, the seemingly impossible did happen. All at +once, as Dick sought for his friend's figure in the struggling ruck, +he caught sight of him, running wide on the outside of the field, but +cutting loose at last, with all the energy which he had held in +reserve, while he had been forced to wait and hang back, pocketed, +against his will. He did not merely pass the wearied runners from the +other two schools; he flashed by them as if they had been standing +still. It was a sight to bring a crowd to its feet, and to its feet it +came. + +Never for one instant did Allen's splendid stride relax. His eyes were +half closed, his head was thrown a little to one side, his lips were +drawn back from his teeth, but he ran like a race-horse, true, steady, +and game to the core, putting out the last ounce in him in a finish +such as Fenton Field had rarely seen. Twenty yards from the tape he +passed his schoolmates, still locked shoulder to shoulder, and keeping +still to his tremendous pace, swept by the post--a winner. + +The whole Fenton section of the stand was in an uproar. First, second +and third; a clean sweep--all eight points in the quarter--here was +something to buoy up their hopes at last. Nor did this end their good +fortune. A moment later the mile runners were started on their long +four circuits of the track, and Ned Brewster justified all the +predictions that had been made for him. He had the rest of the field +outclassed, and saving himself for the half-mile which was to come +later, made no effort at fast time, winning easily in four minutes and +forty-eight seconds, with Sheldon of Clinton second, and Marshall of +Hopevale third. The scorer at the bulletin board again shifted his big +figures, and now they read: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 9 16 7 + + +Dick went back to his broad jump trials with a light heart. It seemed +that the meet was as good as won. On his second trial he stepped over +the take-off and made a foul jump, and on his third, in his anxiety +not to repeat the mistake, he fell short of the board by almost a +foot, and though the actual distance was greater than anything he had +yet done, in measurement it amounted to but twenty feet and one-half +an inch. Yet he qualified for the finals, for Harding of Hopevale was +the only man who bettered his mark to any extent. On his second +attempt he cleared twenty feet, eight inches; while Johnson, after his +first good jump, waived his next two trials, watching the work of the +others to see whether he need jump again, or could save himself for +the high. + +Dick had felt himself grow more limber with each successive jump, and +now felt sure that if he could once catch the take-off correctly, he +could improve his mark. On his first trial, in the finals, he +accomplished what he wished, and knew, even while still in midair, +that he had excelled his first performance. The measurer pulled the +tape up carefully to the mark left by Dick's heels in the soft, +well-rolled earth, and then announced, "Twenty-one one and a half." +Dick grew suddenly elated. It was the best jump he had ever made. He +was ahead of Harding; almost up to Johnson himself. For a moment he +even dreamed that he might prove the winner, after all. But his +triumph was short-lived. Johnson pulled off his sweater and took his +second try, and this time, putting a trifle more speed into his run, +cleared twenty-one, seven and a quarter. Dick failed to improve on his +second and third tries, yet he seemed sure of second place until +Harding's last jump. The Hopevale man put all his energies into his +attempt, and even from where Dick stood he could tell that the jump +was a good one. A moment later the announcer called, "Mr. Harding +jumps twenty-one, five," and Dick was put back to third. Yet he had +won a point for the school, and with it the right to wear his "F." + +And now the clerk came running up with two sheets of paper in his +hand. He gave them to the announcer, who forthwith called out, +"Throwing the sixteen-pound hammer--won by Ellis of Hopevale--second, +Merrihew of Hopevale--third, Robinson of Fenton. Distance, one hundred +and fifty-eight feet, eleven inches." + +There followed a storm of cheers from the Hopevale section, and the +announcer, raising his hand for silence, continued, "Pole vault, won +by Garfield of Fenton--second, Amory of Hopevale--third, Hollingsworth +of Hopevale--height, ten feet, six inches." Applause from Fenton, and +again from Hopevale, for the second and third had not been looked for. +And now the score board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 14 23 19 + + +Decidedly, matters were growing interesting. The next three track +events were run off quickly, and without making much change in the +relative positions of the schools. Brewster won the half for Fenton, +in the good time of two, two and a quarter, with Cartwright of +Hopevale second, and Donaldson of Clinton third. The two-twenty, as is +so often the case, resulted exactly as the hundred had done, Harris of +Clinton winning in twenty-two and four-fifths, with Lindsay of Fenton +second, and Adams of Hopevale third. In the low hurdles Fenton was +shut out altogether, while Hopevale was deprived of two points on +which she had counted, for though Barker, who had been first in the +high, repeated his victory in the longer race, and won handily in +twenty-six and three-fifths, Jones' injured knee was too stiff to +allow him to start, and Ballantyne and Salisbury of Clinton took +second and third for their school. Thus but two events--the shot and +the high jump--were left, and the score board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 23 30 17 + + +The shot was called first, and Brewster, his eyes gleaming with +excitement, came hurriedly up to Dick. "Do your best, old man," he +whispered. "Every point is going to count now. If you could get second +it would be great; even third would help a lot. This is going to be +the closest meet we ever had." + +Dick nodded, though feeling little confidence in his chances. Ellis +and Merrihew, he considered, were practically sure of first and +second; with Ross of Clinton he felt that he had a fighting chance for +third. Every eye was turned on the shot ring, and the scorer called, +"Ellis of Hopevale, first try." + +Ellis, big and strong and brawny, stepped forward with perfect +confidence, poised for a moment, and then leaped into his put. Even +Dick, much as he disliked the performer, could not repress a thrill of +admiration for the performance. It was a splendid try--clean, fast, +with a fine follow--and all done so easily that Dick could scarcely +credit his ears when the measurer gave his result to the announcer, +and the latter shouted, "Mr. Ellis puts thirty-nine, four and a half." + +Two other contestants made tries which fell five or six feet short of +Ellis', and then Ross put thirty-seven, four. Directly after him +Merrihew, big and ungainly, with brute strength enough to move a +mountain, made a slow, awkward put of thirty-eight, two. Then Dick's +name was called. Again Brewster whispered, "Do your best, old man," +and Allen slapped him encouragingly on the back. "Remember not to try +too hard, Dick," he said. Both meant their advice in the kindest +possible way, but it was a mistake of inexperience. Dick, for the +first time in his athletic career, in a really tight place, felt as if +he were moving in a dream, and his schoolmates' words only served to +increase his nervousness. He took his place in the ring. The shot +seemed to have grown terribly heavy, and forgetting everything that +McDonald had been drilling into him for the past weeks, he put +blindly, and walked out of the circle, scarcely knowing whether he had +done well or ill. There was an ominous silence, and then the scorer +announced, "Mr. Randall puts thirty-two, ten and a half." + +Dick felt himself flush. There was a sneer on Ellis' face. He spoke +loudly enough for every one around the circle to hear. "That's the +Pentathlon man from Fenton," he said to Merrihew. "He's all right, +isn't he? He's a dandy." + +With an effort Dick kept control of himself. And then the second round +began. It resulted in a general improvement. Ellis put forty feet and +one inch; Ross thirty-seven, eleven; Merrihew thirty-eight, nine. When +it came Dick's turn he forced himself to imagine that he was +practising alone in McDonald's field, with no crowd to trouble him. He +put his whole mind on his form, and as a result, did better, getting +in a try of thirty-six, seven. Yet he felt far from satisfied, and all +at once it flashed upon him that he was doing the very thing which +McDonald had told him, long ago, was his besetting fault, that he was +stiffening up too soon in his effort, and not getting the powerful, +sweeping drive which made Ellis' trials so successful. + +The third round began. Ellis fell back a few inches, putting +thirty-nine, ten and a half; Ross improved to thirty-eight, four; +Merrihew put an even thirty-nine feet. "Thirty-eight four to beat," +Dick kept thinking to himself. He had never done it in practice, but +now, if ever, was the time. His name was called. He was perfectly cool +by this time; he knew exactly what he wished to do; and poising easily +at the back of the ring, he swung into his put, and finished through +with every bit of strength he possessed. It was a better try than his +others--he knew that, on the instant--but was it good enough for the +point. The measurers seemed to take longer than usual over their task. +Finally the announcer cried, "Thirty-eight, three and a half." Dick +turned away, sick at heart. He had failed; the point was lost. + +Brewster and Allen were at his side in an instant, cheering him as +best they could. "That's all right, old man," Brewster cried; "don't +you care. You beat your record. You can't do impossibilities. Don't +you mind." But Dick refused to be comforted. "A half an inch," he kept +repeating to himself, over and over again. "The least little bit more +ginger; the least little bit better form; a half an inch; confound the +luck!" and he sat gloomily watching the finals, which resulted as +expected, Ellis first, Merrihew second, Ross third. And the score +board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 24 30 34 + + +The high jump alone remained. Brewster figured for a moment, and then +came over to Dick. "I don't want to rattle you, old man," he said, +"but there's just one chance in a hundred still. Hopevale hasn't a man +that's any good in the high; Clinton's got Johnson and Robinson. If +you could get a streak of jumping and beat Johnson, we'd win by a +point." + +Dick nodded. "I'll do everything that's in me, Ned," he said quietly, +and Brewster felt satisfied with the reply. + +The high jump was soon under way. At five feet, two, only Johnson, +Robinson and Dick were left. At five four, Robinson failed, scoring a +single point for Clinton. And then ensued a duel between Johnson and +Dick. Dick was jumping in his old time form, with plenty of speed and +spring, and all the stimulus of knowing that he might yet save the +day. Both boys cleared five, five, and five, six, in safety. At five, +seven, Johnson failed on his first trial, and the Fenton supporters +felt a sudden gleam of hope. Dick made ready for his try, every muscle +working in unison, every fiber in his body intent on clearing the bar +in safety. He ran down easily, quickened his pace on his last three +strides, and leaped. It was a splendid effort, save that he had taken +off a trifle too far from the bar. He was almost over and then, in a +last effort to work his body clear he lost his balance, just grazing +the bar, and fell into the pit, landing with one leg under him. There +was a moment's suspense; the bar hung undecidedly, springing up and +down under the impact of Dick's body--and then, just as the Fenton +crowd were getting ready to cheer, it gave one final shiver and +dropped into the pit at Dick's side. The cheers were changed to a +groan of disappointment, and then the silence grew almost painful as +Dick did not rise. Brewster hurried over to him; Randall's face was +white with pain. "Ankle, Ned," he said. "Give me a hand up, please." + +A moment later the doctor was examining him. "No break," he announced +at last, "and nothing really serious. But that ends it for to-day. +Another wrench, and you can't tell what would happen. Sorry, but it's +the fortune of war." + +Dick protested vigorously. "I can get around on it," he cried, "let me +jog up and down, Doctor, and then take one more try. I don't care what +happens." + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be foolish, Dick," he said. +"You couldn't jump three feet with that ankle. Don't walk on it, +either, you must give it absolute rest." + +Yet Dick insisted, and gamely tried to hobble back to the jumping +path. The effort was vain. Things swam around him, and with a long +sigh of disappointment he sank back on the ground. "All right, I'll +quit," he said, and a moment later Johnson cleared the height, and the +games were done. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 30 32 34 + + +It had been the closest meet in the history of the schools. Half an +hour later, as Dick left the locker-room, leaning on Allen's shoulder, +he heard Dave Ellis' voice, holding forth to a knot of admiring +supporters from Hopevale. + +"Turn his ankle? Not a bit of it," he was saying. "That's an old gag. +He knew when he was licked. He's got no sand. He won't go into the +Pentathlon now." + +Dick shook off Allen's detaining hand and thrust open the door. +"Sounds natural, Dave," he said, meeting Ellis' surprised glance with +a rather grim smile, "but if it interests you to know it, he will go +into the Pentathlon, and perhaps he'll make you hustle, too." He +banged the door behind him and limped away, his hand on Allen's +shoulder, down the stairs. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + ON DIAMOND AND RIVER + + +The track meet was over, and Hopevale had scored three points toward +the cup. Another victory, either in the ball game or the boat race, +and the competition would be ended. And this victory they were bent on +winning, while the other two schools were equally determined to wipe +out defeat, and to overcome their rival's lead, in the three contests +which remained. + +On the Saturday after the track games came the first round in the +base-ball league. Luck was with Fenton; they had the good fortune to +draw the bye, and the small party of boys who went to see the game +between Clinton and Hopevale was composed largely of experts, anxious +to "get a line" on the opposing teams, and to note the strong and weak +points in their play. + +Until the last two innings it was a close and interesting contest. +Prescott, the Clinton pitcher, proved a puzzle to his opponents, +but his support was none of the best; and thus, while the Clinton +team hit the Hopevale pitcher freely, the home nine, on the other +hand, put up a splendid fielding game, and for seven innings the score +was a tie, five to five. And then, in the eighth, there came, for +Hopevale, one of those unhappy times, when things go from bad to worse +with the rapidity of lightning. A base hit, a base on balls, and a +sacrifice put men on second and third, with only one out; and then a +clean two-bagger between center and right scored them both. After +which the Hopevale team, in the slang of the game, "went up into the +air." + +On the next play their short-stop, in an endeavor to catch the runner +coming from second base, threw wild to third; another base on balls +followed; and then, just at the psychological moment, Ferguson, the +heavy hitter of the Clinton team, sent a screaming three-bagger far +over the center-fielder's head. Altogether, by the time Hopevale had +steadied again, and the inning had ended, they found the score eleven +to five against them; and although they made one run in the eighth, +and another in the ninth, that was all, and it was Clinton's game, +eleven to seven. Supporters of both Fenton and Clinton breathed again. +One of them would win, and the other lose, but Hopevale, their common +enemy, had not yet secured the cup. + +The succeeding Saturday was the banner day of the sports. Ten o'clock +in the morning was the time set for the final ball game; and the boat +race was scheduled for three in the afternoon. The ball game was +played on the Clinton grounds, yet four carloads of spectators went +down from Fenton to cheer for their nine, and filled a good-sized +section of the grandstand with their crimson flags. Jim Putnam, with +the rest of the crew, stayed at home, to store up the last final ounce +of energy for the afternoon. Dick, Allen, Brewster and Lindsay sat +together, watching the tall and ungainly Prescott going through his +gyrations as he warmed up for the game. He appeared, as Allen +remarked, to be a "tough proposition." His delivery was so deceptively +easy that one scarcely realized the speed and power behind it, until +the ball struck, with a vicious "thut," in the catcher's glove. And +his curves looked as formidable as his speed. Brewster sighed as he +watched him. "Now how are they going to hit a fellow like that?" he +asked. + +Allen, the optimistic, made haste to answer, "Oh, you can't tell," he +said, "he may get tired before he gets through. And we've got a better +fielding team than they have, I know. Besides, when you're talking +about pitchers, Ed Nichols is no slouch. You can bet they won't knock +him out of the box. Our show is as good as theirs." + +As he spoke, the umpire consulted for a moment with Jarvis, the Fenton +captain, and Crawford, the leader of the Clinton team. Then the coin +spun upward into the air, and immediately the Clinton players +scattered to their positions in the field, and the Fenton nine took +their places on the visitors' bench. "There," said Brewster, "bad luck +to start with. We've lost the toss." + +There followed the tense hush which always precedes the beginning of a +championship game. The umpire tossed out a new ball, which the +elongated Prescott at once proceeded to deface by rubbing it around, +with great thoroughness, in the dirt. Abbot, the Fenton short-stop, +stepped to the plate, and the umpire gave the time-honored command, +"Play ball!" + +The redoubtable Prescott eyed the batsman for an instant with what +seemed to the Fenton crowd a glare of hate, held the ball extended +before him, then, in Allen's phrase, "tied himself up into a number of +double bow-knots," and let fly. Abbot made no attempt to strike at +the ball; it appeared to be traveling too high; yet just before it +reached the plate it shot quickly downward, and the umpire called, +"Strike--one." + +At the second ball Abbot made a terrific lunge, but met only the air, +and a moment later, as Stevens, the Clinton catcher, moved up behind +the bat, a fast inshoot neatly cut the corner of the plate, and with +the words, "Strike--three--striker out," Abbot walked dejectedly back +to the bench. + +Crosby, the second man up, had slightly better fortune, for, as Allen +remarked, in an endeavor to keep up the courage of the others, "he had +a nice little run for his money," hitting an easy grounder to second +base, and being thrown out at first. Sam Eliot, the third man to face +Prescott, followed Abbot's example, and struck out. The Fenton half of +the inning ended in gloom. + +Now came Clinton's turn at the bat. Bates, the first man up, had two +strikes called on him, and then hit a clean, swift ball over second +base, and reached first in safety. Crawford, the Clinton captain, +bunted, advancing Bates to second. Then Nichols settled down to work, +and Davenport, the third batsman, was retired on strikes. Two out, a +man on second, and Ferguson, the much-dreaded heavy hitter, at the +bat, Nichols and Jarvis held consultation, and as a result Ferguson +was given his base on balls. It seemed good generalship, yet in the +sequel, it proved unfortunate, for Gilbert, the next man up, made a +tremendous drive far out into center field and never stopped running +until he had reached third, while Bates and Ferguson crossed the +plate. The Clinton section of the grandstand became delirious with +enthusiasm, in the midst of which Manning, the sixth man at bat for +the home team, hit weakly to Nichols, and was thrown out at first. Two +to nothing. It looked like Clinton's day. + +Nor did Fenton's chances seem brighter in the second. Again three men +came to bat, and again they were retired, without one of them reaching +first. Yet there was comfort in the latter half of the inning, for +Nichols steadied down, and proved as much of a puzzle as Prescott +himself. The Clinton men, in their turn, went out in one, two, three +order, and the hopes of the Fenton supporters faintly revived. + +Four more innings passed without another run being scored. It was a +genuine pitchers' battle, man after man, on either side, striking out, +hitting easy grounders to the infield, or popping up abortive flies. +The beginning of the seventh, however, brought a change. Jarvis was +the first man at bat for Fenton, and he started things auspiciously by +making a pretty single, close along the third base foul line. It +seemed like the time for taking chances, and on the next ball pitched, +he started for second, and aided by a poor throw by Stevens, the +Clinton catcher, made it in safety. Taylor, the next man at bat, +struck a sharp, bounding grounder toward second base, and the Hopevale +second-baseman ingloriously let it go through his legs. The Fenton +crowd in the grandstand, long deprived of a chance to cheer, shouted +themselves hoarse. A man on third, and one on first, and no one out. +The chances for tying the score looked bright. + +At this point, however, Prescott exerted all his skill. Warren, +coached to hit the ball at any cost, tried his best, but in vain. One +strike--one ball--two strikes--two balls--three strikes, and out. It +was Clinton's turn to exult. Nichols, the weakest batsman on the +Fenton team, was next in order, and to the surprise of friends and +foes alike, he made as pretty a single over short-stop's head as one +could have wished to see, scoring Jarvis and advancing Taylor to +second. Then came Abbot's turn, and this time he had his revenge for +two successive strike-outs by making a long drive between left and +center, good for two bases, and bringing Taylor and Nichols home. +Fenton was in the lead, and the grandstand became a mass of blazing +crimson. Such a batting streak, however, was too good to last. Crosby +hit a pop fly to Prescott, and Eliot struck out. Yet Fenton was well +content. Three to two; and only two innings and a half to play. + +Clinton's half of the seventh resulted in no score; and in the eighth +both sides retired in order, Prescott and Nichols again on their +mettle, and pitching as if their very lives depended on the outcome of +the game. In the ninth Fenton made a splendid effort to increase their +lead. With two out, and with men on second and third, Crosby hit a +liner that looked good enough to score both men, and then Bates, the +Clinton short-stop, pulled off the star play of the game, leaping high +into the air, and getting his right hand on the ball just at the one +possible moment--a clean, sensational catch that set the followers of +both schools cheering, and stopped the Fenton scoring where it stood. + +Then came the last of the ninth. The inning opened well for Fenton. +Prescott hit a long fly to center field, which Irwin captured without +difficulty. Bates bunted, and aided by his fleetness of foot, beat the +ball to first. Crawford struck out. The game was almost won, and then +came one of those sudden plays, that in a flash changes a defeat into +a victory. Davenport swung on the first ball pitched, met it fair and +square, with a crack that sounded like a rifle shot, and lifted it, as +if on wings, clear over the left field fence. Red and black had its +turn; flags waved; throats grew hoarse with cheering; Bates jogged +home, and Davenport made the circuit of the bases at sprinting speed, +while the crowd poured out on the field and bore him away on their +shoulders in triumph. The game was ended--four to three--and Clinton +was even with Hopevale for the cup. It was a silent procession of +Fenton followers who walked down from the field, to take the train for +home. + +An hour later Dick entered Putnam's room, to find his classmate +stretched, resting, on the bed. He looked up eagerly. "Well?" he +queried. + +Dick shook his head. "They licked us," he answered, "but there's no +kick coming. It was a dandy game. I never want to see a better one. It +looked as if we had it--" and he went over the whole story for +Putnam's benefit, detailing every play, as it had occurred. "And so +they licked us," he concluded, "and now, Jim, it seems to be most +everlastingly up to you." + +Putnam rose and began to pace up and down the room. "That's about the +size of it," he answered, "and, thank goodness, we've got no hard luck +stories to tell. We're in good shape--every one of us--and right on +edge, too. If we're licked, it's because they've got better crews. +But, by golly," he added, "they've got to go some, Dick. I don't care +if I row the whole crew out, and we don't come to for a week, but +we'll do our darndest, anyway. It's make or break, now." + +Dick nodded. "Yes, it's win or nothing," he said; "but I'm glad of one +thing. I guess Clinton's got a better crew than Hopevale, and if we +_can't_ win, then the cup goes to Clinton. And our old friend, Dave, +can win all the Pentathlons he likes; it won't do him any good then. +But we won't back down till we have to. You may lick 'em, after all." + +Putnam squared his shoulders. "Dick," he said solemnly, "you watch us +in the last half-mile, and if you can come to me afterward, and tell +me that I didn't hit things up to the last notch, then you can hold my +head under water till I drown. If I don't do my level best, and then +some, I'm a Dutchman." + +Dick laughed. "I'll watch you, all right," he answered, "but not to +criticize; only to yell for all I'm worth, whether you're ahead or +behind. We're with you, Jim, win or lose. The crowd of us have hired a +launch, so if our moral support is going to help you any, on your way +down the river, why you'll know you've got it." + +The time before the race dragged away somehow, and shortly before +three, the launch, with Allen, Brewster, Lindsay and Dick on board, +came to a halt, with a dozen other craft, off the starting buoys, +marking the beginning of the two-mile course. It was the perfection of +racing weather, the water calm and smooth as a mirror, yet with the +sky overcast, so as to temper the heat of the sun. One by one the +crews came paddling out from the big boat-house on the shore. First +came Hopevale, their blue-bladed oars dipping prettily together, and +the blue cap on their coxswain's head making them easy to distinguish +from the others. After them came Clinton, the winners of the previous +year, a rangy, speedy-looking crew, their red and black jerseys +looming up more prominently than the quieter colors of their rivals. +And last of all, their own boat left the shore, Blagden at bow, +Selfridge at two, "Big" Smith at three, and Putnam at stroke. Little +"Skeeter" Brown, the eighty-pound coxswain, sat in the stern, +megaphone strapped around his head, his big, long-visored crimson +jockey cap pulled down about his ears. + +The referee's launch tooted a warning blast. The three crews increased +their speed a trifle, and one by one took up their positions, Hopevale +on the outside, Clinton in the middle, Fenton nearest the boat-house +shore. The coxswains gripped the starting-lines, the referee talked +briefly to the three captains in turn, and then, backing his launch, +made ready to give the signal for the start. It was a pretty sight: +the rival crews, tense and ready, awaiting the word; the little fleet +of pleasure craft which was to follow in their wake; on shore the +eager enthusiasts who were to pursue them on bicycles or in motors +along the bank. And Dick, as he gazed around him, could not but think +of that other crowd, waiting so eagerly at the finish, two miles away, +and turning the sober old river into a garden of variegated color, +with the flags and ribbons of the different schools. + +The referee's right arm was outlined in silhouette against the sky. A +moment's silence and then the pistol cracked, the little wreath of +smoke curled upward, and the twelve oars caught the water like one. A +tooting of whistles, a medley of shouts and cheers; the race was on. + +The boys stood well forward, as the bow of their launch cut through +the water, their eyes fixed on the three crews, as they shot away down +stream. Clinton had the lead, that was already evident. They had +gained it in the first half-dozen strokes, and had increased it, first +to a quarter length, then to a half, Hopevale and Fenton fighting, bow +and bow, for second place. For a quarter-mile they kept the same +positions, and then, all at once, Hopevale--the crew the boys had +rated as the least dangerous--took a sudden spurt. Quickening their +stroke perceptibly, they drew away from Fenton, then came even with +Clinton, and finally were a clear length in the lead. "Look at 'em!" +cried Lindsay. "I didn't know they could row like that. Look at 'em +go!" + +Allen eyed them critically. Their boat did not move as smoothly as the +others; there was a perceptible roll from side to side; there was some +splashing by bow and two; yet for all that, the crew was made up of +big, strong oarsmen, and despite their evident lack of form, they +drove their shell ahead at a tremendous pace. But Allen shook his +head. "They won't last," he said. "They'll be rowed out at a mile." + +Dick hastened to dissent. "I don't believe it, Harry," he replied. "A +two-mile race isn't like a four-mile. I think they can hold that pace, +and if they do, they'll win. Look at 'em 'dig. There! There goes +Clinton after 'em! Why doesn't Jim hit 'er up, too? There! Now he's +quickened. Oh, good boy, Jim! That's the stuff! Soak it to 'em!" + +He was shouting as if he fancied Putnam could hear every word he said, +unmindful of the fact that every one else around him was shouting as +well. Hopevale had drawn away still more, and then, as a half-length +of open water showed between them and Clinton, the Clinton crew had at +last begun to quicken in their turn. Slowly they drew up on the +leaders, and then, just as Dick had begun his yells of encouragement, +for the first time Putnam had raised his stroke, and the three boats +passed the mile-post with Hopevale a length ahead, and Clinton a +half-length in front of the Fenton crew. + +For another quarter-mile there was practically no change. Brewster +began to worry. "Why doesn't Jim spurt?" he cried. "If Hopevale keeps +it up, they win. It's only a quarter-mile to the turn." + +Sure enough, they could see, ahead of them, the bend that marked the +last half-mile of the course. Yet still Putnam did not quicken; in +fact, he dropped back a trifle, and the boys' hearts sank like lead. +Only Dick, remembering what Putnam had said to him that morning, kept +repeating to himself, "The last half-mile; the last half-mile." + +And now, into the swarm of boats along the banks, into the noise and +din of the crowds, the three crews steered around the bend, and +squared away for home. The race between Clinton and Hopevale was so +close and pretty to watch that for a moment the boys had taken their +eyes off their own crew; and then, suddenly, Dick began shouting like +a maniac, "Oh, Jim, give it to 'em! That's the boy, Jim! Give it to +'em! That's the boy!" + +With one accord the others turned, and the next moment were joining in +Randall's frenzied cries. For the spurt had come at last. Putnam had +cut loose with every ounce of power at his command; Big Smith at three +was backing him gallantly, passing forward the heightened stroke, and +Selfridge and Blagden were quickening like heroes in their turn. Nor +were the boys in the launch the only ones to note the change. All the +shouts of the crowd had been, "Hopevale! Clinton!" Yet now there came +a roar from the banks, "Oh, well rowed! Well rowed, Fenton! Go in! Go +in and win!" + +Never did Randall forget that last half-mile. Gallantly the Hopevale +boys stuck to their work, yet the smooth, persistent power of the +Clinton boat was not to be denied, and a quarter-mile from home +Hopevale was a beaten crew. And then, as they fell back, defeated, but +game, all eyes were turned on the boys from Fenton. Never for an +instant did Putnam falter; such a stroke as he was setting had not +been seen on the river for many and many a year. And strive as Clinton +would, they fell back, inch by inch, foot by foot, and the finish but +two hundred yards away. Now the bows of the shells were even, now for +an instant Clinton showed again in the lead, and then, with one final +effort, the Fenton shell leaped forward again and again. A wild burst +of whistles, shrieking horns, shouting hundreds on the shore, and by a +quarter boat length, the Fenton crew had won. + +Half an hour later, Putnam was riding home with his friends, tired, +exhausted, but happy as a boy could be. "Well, old man," Dick said to +him, "I'm not going to drown you. You did what you said you'd do. The +last half-mile; that's where you fixed 'em." + +Putnam nodded. "Thank goodness," he said, "for once I rowed just the +race I meant to. I couldn't have beaten that time a second for a +million dollars. And, golly, wasn't it close? I don't see how we did +it. But we did. Three points apiece, and only the Pentathlon left. +Dick, old man, the rest of us have done our darndest. And now it's +your turn; it's up to you." + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + FOUL PLAY + + +It was nearing sunset on Friday, the fourteenth of June; the +Pentathlon was scheduled for ten o'clock on the following day. Dick +Randall, dressed in his street clothes, but with his spiked shoes on +his feet, stood, hammer in hand, listening to McDonald's final words +of explanation and advice. McDonald's protégé, Joe, the little French +Canadian, lay stretched on the grass, near the edge of the field, +looking on. + +It was a bright, clear evening, and the sun, now almost level with the +horizon, smote blindingly across the field. McDonald shifted his +position to escape its glare. "Now then, Dick," he said, "just one +more try, to be sure we've got it. That's all I'm going to let you +take. We'll run no risk of damaging that ankle of yours again." + +"Oh, the ankle's all right," Dick answered. "I honestly couldn't feel +in better shape. And you don't know what a load it takes off my mind +to have the hammer coming right at last. It makes me feel as if I +really had something of a show." + +McDonald nodded. "Of course, you have a show," he answered. "Now take +your try, and remember the two things I've been telling you! Pull away +from it, all the time, as if you were hauling tug-of-war on a rope; +and don't start to turn too quick. But when you do start, spin fast, +and the rest will come by itself. And if you don't throw within ten +feet of Dave Ellis to-morrow, I'm a liar." + +Dick took his stand within the circle, and made ready for his trial. +After weeks of disappointment, there had finally come a day when the +whole theory of the double turn had worked itself out satisfactorily +in his brain, and had remained there, so that for the past fortnight +he had kept his form, and had steadily increased the distance of his +throws. Yet McDonald, although a great believer in light work before a +competition, knew from experience how easily the knack with the hammer +may be lost, and while he had made Dick stop his running and jumping, +he had kept him at light practice with the weight, taking half a dozen +throws a day, until his pupil had acquired a method that was almost +mechanical in its certainty. Now he found little to criticize as Dick +spun around quickly and smoothly, keeping well within the circle, and +sending the missile far down the field. He nodded approval. "All +right," he called, "that's enough. We'll stop right there. Let's put +the tape on it." + +While they were measuring, Joe, from his position near the fence, +happened to glance into the woods beyond the field, and having looked +once, he seemed to take no further interest in the hammer throwers, +but lay still, and without appearing to do so, kept a watchful eye on +the spot of light which had gleamed from the branches of the big oak +tree on the border of the wood. The last rays of the sunset streamed +gloriously across the field; in answer, flash after flash came +sparkling from the oak; and then the sun dipped behind the hills, and +the soft shadow of the twilight crept downward toward the town. + +Dick and McDonald, talking earnestly together, started to leave the +field. At the corner of the wood, Dick turned, gazing out at the +darkening west. "Fine day to-morrow, I guess, all right," he said. + +"Yes," McDonald assented, "it looks like it. And we're going to have +you in shape to do a good performance, Dick. Wait till you've eaten +the steak I've got for you. That's going to put the muscle on. It'll +mean a foot in the hammer, I know." + +Dick laughed. "Well, you were good to invite me to stay," he answered. +"I told Mr. Fenton we had a few last things to talk over, and that I'd +come back after supper. And he said that would be all right. Now, +about that high jump--" + +They walked on toward the cottage. As they passed the angle of the +woods, Joe, who had been walking along behind them, hurried up to +McDonald, spoke a few quick words to him in an undertone, and darted +away among the trees. Dick looked after him in surprise. "What's +struck the kid?" he asked. + +McDonald shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know myself," he answered, "he +takes queer notions sometimes. Something, he said, about a big bird in +a tree. But he's all right. He's a smart youngster, and he knows the +woods like a book. He'll be back by supper-time." + +They walked on again, still discussing the all-absorbing topic of the +morrow's meet. In the meantime, Joe's little figure was flitting +onward through the woods, slipping silently from tree to tree, from +time to time stopping to listen, until finally, ahead of him, he heard +the murmur of voices. Dropping quickly on his hands and knees, he +crept forward through the underbrush. Then, reaching the edge of a +little clearing, he peered cautiously through the bushes, and saw +before him the figures of two men, standing talking together in the +fading light. One of them was slight and dark, and fashionably +dressed, and as Joe saw the pair of field-glasses slung over his +shoulder, his eyes gleamed, and he gave a quick little nod to himself, +as if now sure of something which he had only suspected before. The +other man was short, broad, powerful, his thick chest and long arms +suggesting a strength far above the average. It was he who was +speaking, and Joe strained his ears to listen to every word. + +"I don't like it," he was saying; "the whole thing's too big a risk. +You're safe, I guess, if you play it straight. Ellis is going to win." + +"No, he isn't going to win," the dapper young man replied. "I've +climbed that cursed tree every afternoon for the last week, and I know +how far Randall's getting that hammer, and I tell you again that, +barring accidents, he's going to lick Ellis on the show-down. It will +be close, but Randall wins." + +His companion grunted. "Humph," he said, "this Dave Ellis must be a +beaut. He makes you lots of bother. First he loses two hundred to you +at poker, and then he cries baby, and says he can't pay, and then he +puts you on to this athletic business, to get square, and now at the +last minute, when your money's on, it turns out you've backed the +wrong man. Don't blame you for being a little worked up. That comes +close to being what I should call a pretty raw deal." + +"No," the younger man answered, "hardly that. Ellis meant all right. +He thought he could win. He thinks now he can win. But he can't. I'm +sure of it. Because, as long as I've got five hundred dollars on him, +I've taken pains to find out how things stand. He can beat Johnson, +all right, but he can't beat Randall. The men I got my money up with, +were pretty wise guys--they had the tip from McDonald, I believe. +Anyway, it's too late to hedge, and so--I wrote you. And, as I tell +you, it's a hundred dollars in your pocket, and as easy as breaking +sticks. So don't go back on me now." + +The older man appeared to hesitate. "I don't like it much," he said +again, then added, "When do you mean to pull it off?" + +"Right away," answered the other. "I meant to do it later to-night, +but now I find he's going to stop at McDonald's for supper, and then +walk back. It's a straight road, and a lonely one. There's a patch of +woods about half-way home. It's easy. We've got the team. And there's +no harm done to any one. You're the gainer, and so am I, and so is +young Dave. The whole thing's no more than a joke, except that it +means five hundred dollars to me, and five hundred dollars is money, +these times. So let's get going." + +Still his companion hesitated. "Here's two things I want to know," he +said at length; "first, where do I take him?" + +"Smith's old barn," answered the other promptly; "pleasant and retired +health resort. No bad neighbors. Quiet and peaceful. Keep him till +about noon to-morrow, and then let him stray back any way you please. +Oh, the thing's a cinch. I almost hate to do it. It's too easy. But, +as I say, I need the money." + +"Oh, yes, it's all a cinch," grumbled the older man, "where I do the +work, and you do the heavy looking on. It's always easy for the fellow +that's superintending. But now look here. Here's question number two. +Suppose Randall doesn't show up to-morrow, at ten o'clock, what +happens then? Won't they postpone the whole darn business? I'm not +going to live in Smith's old barn for ever, you know. I'm not as +strong for this rest-cure idea as you seem to think I am. I like some +action for mine." + +His companion smiled. "You don't seem to give me any credit for +working out this scheme," he complained. "I thought of the chance of +their postponing it, the first thing, so I asked a lot of innocent +questions of Dave, and found out there wasn't any danger in that +direction. They make a lot of fuss over this athletic business, you +know, just as if it really amounted to something. And one of the +'points of honor,' as Dave calls 'em, is never to postpone. Kind of +'play or pay' idea. They've had a base-ball game in a rainstorm, and a +foot-ball game in a blizzard, and once they tried to row a boat race +in half a gale of wind, and swamped all three shells. Oh, no, if +Randall isn't there, they'll go ahead without him; that's all there is +to that. He can explain afterward, but it's going to sound so fishy, +they'll think he's lying. It isn't bad, really, the whole plan. Hullo, +what's that?" + +At the edge of the clearing, a twig snapped sharply. Joe, in his +eagerness to hear all that was being said, had crept nearer and +nearer, and now the accident nearly betrayed him. Both men listened +intently, and Joe hugged the ground, hardly daring to breathe. "Guess +'twasn't anything," said the older man, at last. "Don't believe these +woods is very densely populated. Well, let's get out. We want to be in +time," and a moment later Joe heard their footsteps growing fainter +and fainter in the distance. + +For an instant or two, he thought hard. He did not understand all that +he had heard, but the main points in the scheme were clear enough to +his mind. He must warn Dick at once, before it was too late. And +rising to his feet, he started to run. Yet his very haste proved his +undoing. It had grown dark. The woods, even by daylight, were hard to +traverse; and now, in his hurry and excitement, he momentarily bore +away too far to the right, and missed his way. Then, striving to make +up for lost time, he became more and more confused; and finally, +catching his foot in a clinging vine, at the top of a little ravine, +he pitched forward, half fell, half rolled, down the slope, struck his +head violently against some hard substance at the bottom, and lay +still, his face upturned to the sky, over his forehead a little +trickling stream of blood. + +An hour later, Dick came out of McDonald's cottage. "Well, we've got +everything straight now," he said, "and you'll be there tomorrow. +Hopevale Oval, ten o'clock sharp." + +McDonald nodded. "I'll be there," he answered, "and remember my words, +Dick; you're going to win. Good night, and good luck." + +He watched Randall's form vanish in the darkness; then turned his face +toward the wood. "Oh, Joe," he called, "supper's ready," and then +again, more loudly, "Oh, Joe," but no answer came back to him, and +with a puzzled look on his face, he reëntered the cottage. + +Dick walked leisurely along through the gloom of the summer night. He +felt happy, knowing that he was in the very pink of condition, and now +that his chance to do something for the school had really come, he was +determined to meet the crisis as gamely and as resolutely as his +classmates on the crew had done. Far away, in the distance, the lights +of the school shone out across the fields. He gave a sigh of +anticipation, feeling alive in every nerve and muscle; fit to do +battle for his very life. + +Half-way home, he entered the patch of woods which bordered the road, +for some little distance, on either hand. And then suddenly he gave a +start of surprise, for midway through the thicket, a dark figure +loomed up ahead of him, advancing through the gloom. In spite of +himself, Dick felt a thrill of uneasiness, but the stranger hailed him +cordially enough. "Beg pardon," he said, "but have you a match about +you? My pipe's gone out." + +Dick moved to one side, to let the man pass, his muscles on the alert +to make a dash for liberty, if the need should come. "Sorry," he +answered, "I don't carry 'em--" + +He got no further. Suddenly, even as he became conscious that the man +was still advancing, a brawny arm was thrown about his neck from +behind; his head was jerked violently backward; he choked and gasped +for breath; and then, before he could struggle or utter a cry, he was +gagged, bound, and lying helpless as a log, was borne swiftly away +down the road. + + +The following morning, at seven o'clock, Mr. Fenton heard a hurried +knock at his study door. "Come in," he called, and Harry Allen hastily +entered, his face pale. "Mr. Fenton," he said, "here's trouble. I just +went into Dick Randall's room, and he's not there. His bed hasn't been +slept in. What do you suppose can have happened to him?" + +Mr. Fenton looked at him in surprise. "I can't imagine, Harry," he +replied. "He told me, yesterday, he would take supper with McDonald, +and come home shortly afterward. He might have stayed there overnight, +I suppose. Still, that's not like Randall. He would have telephoned me +from the village, I think. It seems curious, doesn't it? I'll send to +McDonald's at once, and we'll see. Will you ask Peter to slip the mare +into the buggy, please; and you go with him, Harry, and show him the +way? I don't doubt you'll find Dick there." + +It was an hour later when Allen reëntered the room, the lack of good +news showing in his face. "He wasn't there," he cried, "and what's +stranger still, McDonald wasn't there either, or the boy. What can it +mean, Mr. Fenton? You don't suppose McDonald--" + +Mr. Fenton finished the sentence for him. "Would have caused Dick to +vanish?" he said. "I don't know, Harry. Your guess is as good as mine. +Probably it's some very simple circumstance which we're not bright +enough to see. But I confess I'm puzzled. I shall go down to the +village directly after breakfast, and see what I can discover there. +But I've no doubt everything's all right. McDonald and Dick must be +together, wherever they are." + +Allen paused, with his hand on the knob of the door. "Shall I tell the +fellows, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Fenton deliberated. "I think not," he said at last. "We don't wish +a tempest in a teapot. You know what the newspapers are, these days. +No, I think you'd better say nothing, for the present. Perhaps Dick +will turn up at Hopevale, if he doesn't come back here before then. +No, I think, on the whole, I wouldn't alarm the boys," and Allen, +nodding, left the room. + + +At the selfsame hour that this conversation was taking place at the +school, Dick Randall sat moodily in a chair, in what had been the +harness-room of Jim Smith's big barn, now long disused, and falling to +decay. The gag had been taken from his mouth, but his arms and legs +were still bound. Opposite him sat his captor, the brawny thick-set +man whom Joe had seen in the woods on the previous night. He had +coaxed a fire into an unwilling start in the old, rusty stove, and was +laboring hard to produce a dish of coffee in an old tin dipper. A +couple of sandwiches lay on the floor beside him. Finally, with the +fire going to his satisfaction, he turned to Dick. "Well, now," he +observed, "I call this doing pretty well. Real nice and sociable like. +Two regular old pals, we're getting to be. You've promised not to +holler, which is sensible, because no one would hear you if you did, +so you've got your jaws free to eat; and if you'd only promise not to +try to get away, I'd untie them arms of yours, and you'd be as fine as +a fiddle. Come now, give me your word, and I'll cut that rope in a +minute. That shows what a trust I've got in you." + +Dick made no answer. His face was drawn and anxious, there were dark +circles under his eyes; he was thinking desperately, as he had thought +all through the long summer night. Some means of escape he must +find--and yet--how was it possible? And then, even as he recklessly +considered the giving and breaking of his word, and the chance of a +struggle with his jailer, the man pulled his watch from his pocket, +and yawned. + +"Ten minutes past eight," he said. "Just a little longer, and them +games will be going on, over at Hopevale. Too bad you can't see 'em; I +guess they'll be a fine sight. They tell me this Dave Ellis is a +likely man at all such things as that. I suppose most likely he'll +beat." + +Dick did not deign a reply. In their long, solitary sojourn together, +he had become accustomed to his captor's ideas of humor. So that now, +he did not even permit his eyes to meet those of his tormentor, but +gazed steadily past him, toward the door of the carriage house. "Ten +minutes past eight," he reflected; "it is too late--nothing could help +me now." + +And then, like lightning from a clear sky, came the climax to all this +startling series of events. For even as he looked, slowly and +cautiously he beheld the door of the harness-room slide back, and the +next instant there appeared in the doorway the figure of Duncan +McDonald, a revolver in his outstretched hand. + +The look of amazement in Dick's eyes must have warned his jailer, for +he wheeled sharply, to find himself looking into the muzzle of +McDonald's pistol. Then came the quick command, "Hands up, lively," +and as he reluctantly obeyed, McDonald called sharply, "All right, +Joe. Come on. Go through his pockets, now." + + +[Illustration: "Hands up, lively," McDonald called] + + +Dick started with surprise and pity, as the little French Canadian +limped forward into the room. His face was deathly pale, and streaked +and matted with blood. Yet he went resolutely at his task, and a +moment later drew out from the man's pocket a big revolver, and handed +it to McDonald. The latter smiled grimly. "Now cut Dick loose," he +directed, and Joe quickly obeyed. With a long sigh of relief, Randall +managed to struggle to his feet, walking haltingly around till the +thickened blood began once more to stir into life. McDonald motioned +to the door. "Hurry, Dick," he said, "Joe will show you. Down the +path. I've got a team. And food, and a set of my running things. +Hurry, now. I'll be with you in a minute. I'm going to keep a watch on +your friend here, till you give a yell to show you're ready to start." + +Fifteen minutes later they had left the woods and were speeding down +the road toward Hopevale. Dick's face was transfigured. With every +turn of the wheels, he was coming back to himself. A chance was left +him after all. + +"How did it all happen, Duncan?" he asked, and hurriedly and +disjointedly McDonald told him the tale. + +"Joe saw something shining up in a tree, last night," he said; +"thought it was queer. Went to investigate. Man had been up there, +watching us with a field-glass. Joe stumbled on him, talking with +another fellow--this chap that had you tied up there in the barn. Joe +can't tell me the whole thing, but I gather they had something in for +you, about the Pentathlon. I guess they wanted Ellis to win. So Joe +heard 'em say they were going to get you, and carry you off to Smith's +old barn. He started home to put us wise, and as bad luck would have +it, he pitched down a gully, and cracked his head open. I went looking +for him about ten o'clock, and I was in the woods all night. Never +found him till five this morning. He'd come to, poor little rascal, +and was trying to crawl home, but he was so weak he could hardly stir. +But he got out his story, and you can bet I did some quick thinking. + +"First, I was going up to town, to telephone the school, and see if +you were all right. And then I thought, if I did that, it might waste +too much time, and if things had gone wrong, I might be too late, +after all. So I went back to the house, got together my running things +and the grub you've just been eating, and then hustled off to my +nearest neighbor's, and did a little burglar act. This is his favorite +colt we're driving; I knew this fellow could eat up a dozen miles in +jig time, and so--I took him. The old man had gone up to town with a +load of garden truck. His wife tried to stop me taking the horse, but +I brandished my revolver at her, and she ran. I suppose she thought I +was crazy, And then Joe piloted me to the barn--I'd never have found +it by myself in a hundred years--so here we are." He pulled out his +watch. "Ten minutes of nine, and ten miles to go. We're all right on +time. But you must feel pretty stiff, Dick; I don't know whether you +can do yourself justice or not." + +Dick stretched himself. "Oh, I'm limbering up a little," he answered, +"I think a good rub will help a lot. And I don't feel tired. The +excitement, I suppose. I guess I'll last through, all right. But oh, +I'm grateful to you and Joe, Duncan; thank Heaven, you came when you +did. If I'd missed the Pentathlon, I'd never have got over it in the +world." + +McDonald smiled, the smile of a man looking back over his own boyhood. +"We get over a lot of things, Dick, in a lifetime," he answered, "but +I know just how you feel. I guess Joe did all he could to square up +with you for helping him, and I'm mighty glad we got there in time." + + + + + CHAPTER X + + THE PENTATHLON + + +Doctor Merrifield, the elderly, gray-haired principal of Hopevale, +turned with a smile of satisfaction to his guest. "A record day, Mr. +Graham," he said, "and a record crowd. I think we may mutually +congratulate ourselves." + +The head master of Clinton nodded in reply. "Indeed we may, Doctor," +he answered. "Of course the fact that it's graduation week: has +something to do with it, but even then, I have never seen a gathering +like this, in the history of the schools." + +There was good reason for their words. Mid-June had made its most +graceful bow to the world. A warm sun shone down over Hopevale Oval; a +cool breeze blew pleasantly across the field. The track itself had +never looked so well. It had been rolled, scraped, re-rolled once +more; the whitewashed lines had been neatly marked at start and +finish; the lanes for the hundred freshly staked out. Altogether, the +track keeper had done his work to perfection, and a man beaten in the +Pentathlon, whatever other reason he might have given for his defeat, +could scarcely have complained of the conditions under which he was +competing. + +Equally good were the arrangements on the field. The high-jump path +was hard and smooth as a floor; a new cross bar was stretched across +the standards; a dozen extra ones lay ready at hand, in case of +accident to the one in use. The ring for the shot put was in +first-class shape; two shots, one iron, one lead, lay close by. +Three or four hammer rings were clearly marked on the smooth, +closely-cropped green turf. The most critical old-timer who ever wore +a shoe could not have found fault with the preparations for the meet. + +And many a man, indeed, who had been famous in his day, sat in the +rows of seats which surrounded the Oval, eager to see the final +contest for the cup, whose possession meant so much to the school +victorious in this hard and well-fought fight. Fathers, uncles, elder +brothers, small boys looking forward to the day when they, in turn, +would take their places in the family procession, and come to Clinton, +Fenton or Hopevale, as the case might be; all were present in the +stands. Nor was it, by any means, a gathering of men and boys alone. +Mothers, aunts, sisters, most of whom knew little of athletics, and +had but the haziest idea of all that was going forward, lent, none the +less, a charm of bright dresses and brighter faces, to the scene. And +though the games were held at Hopevale, it was no mere local crowd of +spectators which had assembled to watch them. The colors of the home +school were naturally enough in the ascendant, but train after train +had brought its cheering followers of the two rival academies, and the +red and black of Clinton, and the crimson of Fenton, vied with the +Hopevale blue. + +Doctor Merrifield looked across the track. "Here comes our friend +Fenton," he observed, "and evidently in a hurry, too." + +Mr. Fenton walked rapidly up to them, his face puzzled and anxious. +"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "I find myself involved in a most +unaccountable mystery. I don't suppose either of you has heard any +word of Randall, our entry in the Pentathlon?" + +Both of his colleagues gazed at him in astonishment. "Are you +serious?" said Mr. Graham, while the doctor said, "You don't mean to +tell us he isn't here. Why, it only lacks five minutes to ten." + +Mr. Fenton sighed. "I can't understand it," he said, "and I can't help +being a little bit worried. I've notified the authorities, but haven't +heard a single word of him since yesterday afternoon. It's a most +extraordinary thing. And apart from my anxiety for Randall, it seems +hard to say good-by to our chances for the cup. However, the fortunes +of war--" + +Mr. Graham interrupted him. "Why, we don't want anything like that to +happen," he said, "we'll waive our rule, I'm sure. Won't we, Doctor? +We can postpone the meet for a time." + +Mr. Fenton made an eloquent gesture toward the crowded stands. "I +couldn't ask it," he said decidedly. "You're very kind to suggest it, +Graham, and I appreciate it. But if the positions were reversed, I +shouldn't expect you to ask the favor of me. It would never do to +interrupt the order of exercises, and disappoint a gathering of this +size. It would be a reflection, it seems to me, on our ability to +conduct our schools. No, I thank you, but, as I said before, it's the +fortune of war. Your boys must fight it out between themselves. I +suppose some day this will all be explained--" + +An outburst of Hopevale cheers broke in on him. Dave Ellis, looking in +the very top-notch of condition, was walking leisurely across the +field. A moment later, Johnson's lithe figure emerged from the +dressing-room, and Clinton applauded in their turn. And then, even as +they stood listening to the tumult, they were aware of a growing +confusion at the entrance to the field, out of which presently emerged +two rather disheveled looking figures, making toward the locker +building at a hurried pace. At the same instant broke forth a roar +from the Fenton section, "Randall, Randall, Randall!" and Mr. Fenton, +taking an abrupt leave of his associates, started across the field, as +fast as his legs could carry him. "Thank Heaven," he muttered to +himself, "nothing serious has happened to him. But what can the +trouble have been?" + +He found Randall hastily dressing. Dick looked up at him with what was +meant for a smile. "Can't explain now, Mr. Fenton," he said hurriedly. +"It wasn't my fault. I'm lucky to be here. If it hadn't been for +McDonald and Joe, I shouldn't be. But I'll tell you the whole story +later. I've got just time for my rub-down now." + +For five minutes, McDonald's skilful hands worked over the stiffened +muscles, and as Dick jogged across to the start, he felt that his +speed and spring were in some measure returning. Yet the hundred +yards was disappointing. Johnson ran first, and moved down the track +like a race-horse, traveling in first-class form, and making the +distance in ten and three-fifths. Ellis ran second, and did eleven +flat. Dick, a little unnerved by all he had been through, made a false +start--something most unusual for him--and was set back a yard. Then, +in his anxiety not to commit the same fault a second time, he got away +poorly, and finished in the slowest time of the three--eleven and +one-fifth. It was excellent scoring, for a start, and Johnson was +credited with eighty-three points, Ellis with seventy-five and Dick +with seventy-one. + +With the shot put, the lead changed. Johnson, considering his lighter +weight, performed splendidly, making an even thirty-six feet. Dick +found that his stiffness did not bother him nearly so much as it had +done in the dash, and made his best put of the year, thirty-eight, +nine. But Ellis surpassed himself, and on his last attempt, broke the +league record, with a drive of forty-one, two. His seventy-two points +loomed large, by the side of Dick's sixty and Johnson's forty-seven, +and the score-board showed: + + + Ellis 147 + Randall 131 + Johnson 130 + + +Next, the high jump was called, and all three boys kept up the same +good work. There was small reason, indeed, why they should not have +been at their best. School spirit was rampant; it was to watch them +that these cheering hundreds had crowded the field; every successful +jump, from the lowest height of all, was applauded to the echo. Ellis, +as was expected, was the first to fail, but he managed to clear five +feet, two, and added fifty-four points to his score. Dick, a little +handicapped by the strain of the preceding night, could feel that his +muscles were not quite at their best, yet his long period of careful +training had put him in good shape, and helped out by the excitement +of the competition, he finally cleared five feet, eight. Johnson did +an inch better, and only just displaced the bar at five feet, ten, +scoring seventy-seven points to Dick's seventy-four. The three +competitors were now practically tied, and volley after volley of +cheers rang out across the field from every section of the crowd. + + + Johnson 207 + Randall 205 + Ellis 201 + + +The record was going to be broken, not by one man alone, but by all +three. So much was evident, and the crowd awaited the hurdle race with +the most eager expectancy. Dick ran first, and finished in seventeen +and two-fifths; Ellis, his heavy build telling against him, in spite +of his efforts, could do no better than eighteen, two, and then +Johnson electrified the crowd by coming through, true and strong, in +sixteen, four. His eighty-four points put him well in the lead, while +Randall's seventy-three gave him a clear gain over Ellis, who, with +fifty-eight, now brought up the rear. + + + Johnson 289 + Randall 278 + Ellis 259 + + +And yet, in spite of the score, Hopevale was jubilant. For the one +remaining event was the hammer throw, where Ellis was supreme, and +here they expected to see their champion wipe out his opponents' lead, +and finish a winner, with plenty to spare. + +Each contestant was allowed three throws, and on the first round it +seemed as though the predictions of the home man's admirers were +coming true. Johnson threw one hundred and twenty-two feet and seven +inches; and then Ellis, taking his stand confidently inside the +circle, made a beautiful effort of one hundred and fifty-nine feet. +McDonald figured hastily in his score book, and came up to Randall. +"Don't be scared, Dick," he said, "one hundred and forty-five feet, +and you'll still be ahead of him. And that's only a practice throw for +you now." + +Dick nodded. And yet, although he kept his own counsel, he knew only +too well that the worry and anxiety of his long night's captivity +were at last beginning to make themselves felt. His head felt heavy; +his legs weak; he doubted whether he could make the hundred and +forty-five. And then, taking his turn, his worst fears were realized. +He made a fair throw, indeed, staying well inside the circle, but +there was little dash behind it, and when the scorer announced, "One +hundred and thirty-eight eleven," Dick knew that Ellis was in the +lead. + +In the midst of the Hopevale cheering, Johnson took his second throw, +and improved on his first trial by a couple of feet. McDonald shook +his head. "He's out of it," he said. "A great little man, too, but not +heavy enough for all-round work. It's you or Ellis, now, Dick. Johnson +won't bother either of you for first." + +Dick nodded. Ellis made ready for his second throw with the greatest +care. There was little to criticize in his form. And backed by his +great strength, the hammer seemed scarcely more than a toy in his +hands. As the missile went hurtling through the air, the cheers +redoubled. Even from the spectators' seats it was easy to see that he +had bettered his previous try, and soon the scorer shouted, "One +hundred and sixty-five feet, one inch." + +McDonald whistled. "He's a good man with the weights," he admitted +with reluctance; then figured again. "Dick," he said, "you'll have to +get in one good one. You've got to fetch a hundred and fifty feet, if +you're going to win. Don't stiffen up now. Keep cool, and think it's +only practice. You've done it for me. You can do it now." + +Dick walked forward, and picked up the hammer for his second try. Out +from the grandstand came the Fenton cheer, and then, at the end, his +name "Randall, Randall, Randall!" thrice repeated. Where other +stimulants would have failed, this one was successful. Dick felt his +muscles grow tense as steel. He thought of Putnam, and the race on the +river. "Be game," he whispered to himself, under his breath, and +stepped forward into the ring, his brain clear, his nerves under +control. Once, twice, thrice, he swung the hammer around, his head, +and then, with splendid speed, turned and let it go. Clearly, he had +improved on his former throw. The measurers pulled the tape tight, and +then the announcer called, "One hundred and forty-nine, three." + +McDonald calculated hurriedly; then gave a little exclamation of +astonishment. "A tie," he cried; "that puts you just even, and one +more throw apiece. Three hundred and forty-seven points each. A tie; +that's what it is." + +Near Ellis' side stood a slender, dark young man, who had watched +Dick's appearance on the field with an expression of utter amazement. +Although the day was warm, he had worn, all through the games, a long, +loose coat, of fashionable cut, and now he crowded closer to Ellis' +side. "Pick it up, when I drop it, Dave," he whispered. "It's your +only show. You can't beat one hundred and sixty-five without it." + +A moment later he walked away. And Ellis, stooping, put his hand on a +hammer apparently identical with the two which had been so carefully +weighed and measured before the games had begun. He held it +uncertainly, as if not overjoyed at his burden. Once he turned, and +looked imploringly at the man who had spoken to him. The man frowned +back at him savagely, and Ellis sighed, as if persuaded against his +will. + +And now Johnson made his last throw. He tried desperately, and +improved his record to one hundred and thirty feet. But his chance was +gone, and he knew it, taking his defeat gamely enough, with a smile +and shrug of his shoulders. He had done his best; it was not good +enough; that was all. + +"Ellis; last try," called the clerk of the course. Ellis walked +quickly forward, and got into position. Dick, watching him, seemed to +see a new power and skill in the way in which his rival swung, and +when he delivered the weight, Dick felt his heart sink like lead. Out, +out, it sailed, as though it would never stop. Hopevale was cheering +itself hoarse. It looked like a record throw. And finally the +announcer, scarlet with excitement, cried, in the midst of the hush +that followed his first words, "Mr. Ellis throws one hundred and +seventy-three feet, eight and a quarter inches, a new record for the +league." + +Dick turned to McDonald, but McDonald was no longer at his side. He +was striding away down the field. The man who brought in the hammer, +after each throw, was just starting back with it, when a slight, +dapper fellow accosted him. "I'll carry that in for you," he said +pleasantly, "I'm going that way," and the man, thanking him, gladly +enough relinquished his burden. + +Face to face came the kind-hearted stranger and Duncan McDonald. +McDonald reached out his hand. "I'll thank you for a look at that +weapon," he said grimly. + +The stranger looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?" he asked. + +McDonald grasped the wire handle. "Just exactly what I say," he +rejoined. "You're a wise guy, Alec, but you're up against it this +time. Hand over now; I haven't forgotten old times." + +The young man forced a smile, and then, as McDonald wrenched the +hammer from his grasp, he turned and made off across the field, +swearing fluently under his breath. + +McDonald hurried back to where the judges were standing, arriving just +as Dick was making ready for his last try. "One minute, gentlemen," he +called; "I wish to protest Mr. Ellis' throw, and the hammer it was +made with. I don't believe the hammer is full weight." + +The chief judge looked indignant. "Mr. McDonald," he said, "this is +most unusual. The hammers were carefully weighed before the +competition began. And were found correct. In fact, both of them were +a trifle overweight." + +"But you didn't weigh this one," McDonald insisted. "This one has been +rung in on you. I must ask you to weigh it, please." + +Somewhat grudgingly, the judge complied; then started in astonishment. +He was a partisan of Hopevale, but he was an honest man, and he knew +his duty. "Mr. Announcer," he said quickly; "say at once, please, that +there was a mistake in Mr. Ellis' last throw; that an accident to the +hammer will necessitate giving him another trial." Then, turning to +the officials, he added, "This is exceedingly unfortunate, gentlemen; +this hammer weighs but ten pounds and three-quarters. Does any one +know how it got here?" + +No one answered, and Ellis stepped forward to take his last throw, +this time with a hammer of correct weight. His face was troubled; his +former confidence seemed lacking, and his try fell well short of one +hundred and sixty feet. And then Dick came forward in his turn. The +controversy over the light hammer had given him just the rest he +needed; he made ready for his throw with the utmost coolness, and got +away a high, clean try, that looked good all the way. There was the +beginning of a cheer and then a hush, as the announcer called, "One +hundred and fifty-two, five." + +The cheering began again, yet the result was so close that every one +waited breathlessly for the official posting of the score. A moment's +delay, and then up it went. + + + Randall 350 + Ellis 347 + Johnson 334 + + +And then came the avalanche of wildly cheering spectators. Putnam, +Allen, Brewster and Lindsay were first at Dick's side, and it was on +their shoulders that he was borne across the field, a little overcome, +now that the strain was over, with everything appearing a trifle +dream-like and unreal, yet with three thoughts mingling delightfully +in his mind: that he had won, won in spite of obstacles, fair and +clean; that the Pentathlon shield was his, and best and most glorious +of all, that the challenge cup would come to Fenton--to stay. + +Thus, through the shouting and the cheering, he was carried along in +triumph, and in the midst of it all, one other thought still came to +him--the best thought, perhaps, that can ever come to a boy's mind. +Hopevale Oval had vanished, and in spirit he was a thousand miles +away. "I wonder," he said to himself, with a sudden thrill of +happiness, "I wonder what they'll say at home." + + + + THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Randall, by Ellery H. 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Clark"> + +<meta name="Publisher" content="The Bobs-Merrill Company"> +<meta name="Date" content="1910"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} + + + +p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} +.center {text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} + + + +p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} + +p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} +.text10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} +.text20 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} + + +.poem0 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 0%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem1 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 2em; + margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem2 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + +.poem3 { + margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 30%; + margin-right: 30%; text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} + + + +.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0px;} +.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0px;} +.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0px;} +.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0px;} +.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0px;} +.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0px;} +.t6 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:6em; margin-right:0px;} +.t7 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:7em; margin-right:0px;} +.t8 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:8em; margin-right:0px;} +.t9 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:9em; margin-right:0px;} +.t10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10em; margin-right:0px;} +.t11 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:11em; margin-right:0px;} +.t12 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:12em; margin-right:0px;} +.t13 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:13em; margin-right:0px;} +.t14 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:14em; margin-right:0px;} +.t15 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:15em; margin-right:0px;} +.t16 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:16em; margin-right:0px;} + + +.quote {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} +.ctrquote {text-align: center; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} + +.dateline {text-align:right; font-size:90%; margin-right:10%; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} + +span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:100%;} +span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} + +hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} + +hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} + +hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} +hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} + +p.hang1 {margin-left:1em; text-indent:-1em;} +p.hang2 {margin-left:2em; text-indent:0em;} + + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Randall, by Ellery H. Clark + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dick Randall + The Young Athlete + +Author: Ellery H. Clark + +Illustrator: Walter Biggs + +Release Date: January 2, 2012 [EBook #38471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK RANDALL *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + +</pre> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br> + +1. Page scan source:<br> +http://books.google.com/books?id=kh5WAAAAYAAJ</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>DICK RANDALL</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="center"> +<img src="images/dick.png" alt="Dick stood dreaming, gazing across the yard"></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>DICK RANDALL</h1> +<br> +<br> +<h3><i>THE YOUNG ATHLETE</i></h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h3>ELLERY H. CLARK</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h5> + +<h3>WALTER BIGGS</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>INDIANAPOLIS<br> + +THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br> + +PUBLISHERS</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>COPYRIGHT 1910<br> + +<span class="sc">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>PRESS OF<br> +BRAUNWORTH & CO.<br> +BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS<br> +BROOKLYN, N. Y.</h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>TO MY NEPHEWS<br> + +WELD ARNOLD<br> + +AND<br> + +ALLEN WILLIAMS CLARK</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> +<colgroup><col style="width:10%; text-align:right"><col style="width:90%"></colgroup> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" style="text-align:left"><span class="sc2"> CHAPTER</span></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>I</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_1" href="#div2_1">The New Boy.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>II</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_2" href="#div2_2">Dave Ellis Breaks a Record.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>III</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_3" href="#div2_3">Dick and Jim Go On a Shooting Trip.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>IV</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_4" href="#div2_4">The Shooting Trip's Unexpected Ending.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>V</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_5" href="#div2_5">Duncan McDonald.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VI</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_6" href="#div2_6">A Question of Right and Wrong.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VII</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_7" href="#div2_7">A Battle Royal.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>VIII</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_8" href="#div2_8">On Diamond and River.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>IX</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_9" href="#div2_9">Foul Play.</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td>X</td> +<td><a name="div2Ref_10" href="#div2_10">The Pentathlon.</a></td> +</tr></table> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>DICK RANDALL</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>DICK RANDALL</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_1" href="#div2Ref_1">THE NEW BOY</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Fall term at Fenton Academy had begun. Dick Randall came slowly down +the dormitory steps, then stopped and stood hesitating, as if doubtful +which way to turn. Uncertainty, indeed, was uppermost in his mind. He +felt confused and out of place in his new surroundings, like a +stranger in a strange land.</p> + +<p class="normal">The day was dark and gloomy. The sky was overcast, and the afternoon +sun shone halfheartedly from behind the clouds. A fresh breeze bent +the trees in the quadrangle, scattering a shower of leaves about the +yard. In spite of himself, Dick felt his spirits flag. 'A' thousand +miles lay between him and home; and except for a few brief visits, +made close at hand, this was his first real venture into the world. +Unaccustomed to the change, unacquainted with his classmates, with the +steady routine of work and play not yet begun, he was wretchedly +homesick; and strive as he would, he could not keep his thoughts, +for five minutes together, from his father and mother, and the +white-walled farm-house on the slope of the mountain, looking down +over the valley and the meadowland below. He felt ashamed and +disgusted with himself, for he was no longer a "kid"; he was almost +seventeen, and big and strong for his age; and yet, fight it as he +might, the longing for home would not down.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus he stood dreaming, gazing unseeingly across the yard, until +presently, with a start, he came to himself. A friendly hand smote him +between the shoulder-blades, a friendly arm was drawn through his, and +he turned to meet the somewhat quizzical glance of his classmate and +next-door neighbor in the dormitory--Harry Allen.</p> + +<p class="normal">Instinctively Dick smiled. He had sat next to Allen at supper the +night before and had taken a liking to him from the start. Allen had +chattered away steadily, all through the meal, yet his talk had been +unaffected, entertaining, and wholly free from any effort at "trying +to be funny" or "showing off." He was Randall's opposite in every +way--as slight and frail as Dick was big and broad-shouldered, as +light as Dick was dark, and apparently, at the present moment, as +cheerful as Dick was depressed. "Well, Randall," he asked, "what you +got on your mind? Composing a speech?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick flushed a little. "No, nothing like that," he answered; "I don't +know just what I was doing. Just thinking, I guess. You see--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen interrupted him. "Oh, <i>I</i> know," he said; "I've been through it, +all right. You can bet on that. Don't I remember the first day I came? +Golly, I should say I did. Talk about a cat in a strange garret. Well, +that was little me. Don't worry, though. Just about three days, and +you'll think you've lived here all your life. It's a dandy school. +You'll find that out for yourself. And Mr. Fenton! Well, if there's a +better master in the state, I'd like to see him. Teach! I guess he +can. Languages, you know--that's his branch. He's got Latin and Greek +down fine. And English! Why, they say his English course is the best +thing outside of college. He starts away back with Chaucer--'well of +English undefyled,'--Spenser, you know, <i>Faerie Queene</i>--and he brings +us right down to Robert Louis Stevenson. Oh, it's great! No fellow +from this school has flunked English for ten years. How's that? Going +some?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He paused, a little out of breath. Dick smiled, finding something +humorous in the contrast between his classmate's breezy speech, and +the "English undefyled," for which his liking was so evidently +sincere. Yet he found Allen's talk acting on him like magic, and by +the time they had reached the end of the yard, his gloomy thoughts +were forgotten, and he was himself once more.</p> + +<p class="normal">To the left, they could see the boat-house, and the faint blue of the +river, just showing through the trees; to the right lay the athletic +field, and it was toward the track that Allen turned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come on," he said; "let's walk down and watch Dave Ellis. He's going +to try the Pentathlon. He's been training for it all summer. You met +him last night, didn't you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "Yes, I met him," he answered. He had sat opposite Ellis +at table, and had admired his rangy and powerful build. Yet something, +too, in his manner, had repelled him as well; Ellis had seemed a +little patronizing, with a trifle too much of the "Conquering Hero" +about him. So that now Dick hesitated for a moment, and then asked, +"Say, Allen, if it's a proper question, what sort of fellow is +Ellis? Doesn't he seem pretty--well, I don't know just what word I +want--pretty--cocksure of himself, somehow?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen did not answer at once, and when at length he did so, it was in +rather a guarded tone. "Well, you see, Randall," he replied, "I don't +believe I'd better say anything. Dave's a candidate for class +president next spring, and he's pretty sure to get it, too. Only--some +of the fellows have been sounding me to see if I cared to run, and if +I should, why, I wouldn't want you to think, from anything I said--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Randall's face was scarlet with embarrassment. "Excuse me, Allen," he +cried, "I didn't know. I didn't mean--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen hastened to reassure him. "Of course you didn't," He said; +"that's all right, Randall. I only thought I'd let you know. And as +far as that goes, there's really no reason why I shouldn't say what I +think about Dave, if you'll give me credit for being fair about it, +and won't think I'm trying to work any electioneering games. Here's +just what I think about him. I think Dave's a good fellow. And he's +certainly a remarkable athlete--one of the best, I guess, that we've +ever had in the school. All I don't like about him is, that he hasn't +much school spirit; I think he's for Dave Ellis first, and the school +afterward. But still he's all right, you know. He's a good enough sort +of fellow in most ways. One thing, though, he's got to look out for. +And that's his studies. He had a close shave getting by last year, and +I don't believe he's opened a book since school closed. Oh, Dave's all +right, but you'll find he's a good deal bigger man outside the lecture +room than he is in."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "I see," he answered; "and I'm much obliged, Allen, for +telling me about the election. I won't go putting my foot in it again, +in a hurry. I'll know enough after this to keep my mouth shut, till I +begin to get the hang of things. Ellis must be a dandy athlete, +though. I never saw a better built fellow in my life."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen was quick to assent. "Oh, he is," he answered. "He's a corker. +He's six feet one, and weighs a hundred and eighty pounds. He's +awfully good on the track, and he pulls a fair oar, and I guess he's +the best full-back we ever had in the school. <i>Was</i> the best fullback, +I mean. You knew we'd cut out football, didn't you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," Dick answered, "I heard about it. Was a fellow really killed, +Allen?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His companion nodded. "Yes, Faulkner, of Hopevale," he said. "It +happened in the Clinton game. It was an awfully sad thing, too. His +whole family had come on to see the match. It happened in a scrimmage. +He was picked up unconscious. But no one thought it was really +anything serious. They took him to the infirmary; pretty soon he was +in a fever; went out of his head; and two days later he died. Injured +internally, the doctors said. So of course we cut out foot-ball, and +I'm glad of it, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick drew a long breath. "That was tough!" he exclaimed. "Think how +his father and mother must have felt! And the master at Hopevale, too. +I suppose he considered himself somehow to blame, though of course he +wasn't, really."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen shook his head. "No, of course it wasn't his fault," he +answered. "It was just one of those things no one could foresee. But +I'm glad they've stopped it, anyway. So now Dave's going to put all +his time into the track, because, you see, with foot-ball off the +list, it makes the Pentathlon more important than ever. This spring is +going to decide who wins the cup, and the way things look now, the +Pentathlon may settle the whole business. They've got a dandy +Pentathlon man over at Clinton--a fellow named Johnson--he won it last +year, and broke the record--made two hundred and eighty points--so if +Dave could beat him, it would be great for us, all right. I guess we +can tell something from what he does to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked on for a few moments in silence; then Dick, with sudden +resolve, turned squarely to his friend. "Look here, Allen," he said, +"I know you'll think I'm greener than grass, but I read somewhere, +once on a time, that if a fellow didn't understand a thing, he might +as well own up to it, or else he'd never learn at all. And that's what +I'm going to do now. I'm not up to date on school affairs. I don't +even know what cup you're talking about. And I don't know what you +mean by the Pentathlon. I suppose it's got something to do with +athletics, but if you hadn't said anything about it, it might be +something to eat, for all I'd know. So if you don't mind, I wish you'd +explain things to me, and then, perhaps, I won't feel quite so much +like a fool as I do now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen laughed. "Heavens," he said, "it isn't your fault, Randall; it's +mine. Here I go rattling on about everything, as if you'd been in the +school as many years as I have. No wonder I've got you mixed. Well, +now, let's see; I'll begin with the cup. No, I won't either; I'll +begin at the beginning; and that's with Mr. Fenton. Do you know +anything about what he did in college?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head. "No, I don't," he answered humbly. "I told you I +was green. We don't know much about athletics out our way. Unless +plowing, and getting in hay, and chopping wood count for anything. If +they do, we might have a show."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen laughed again. "Well, they ought to, all right," he answered. +"What a bully idea for a Pentathlon! I'm going to speak to Mr. Fenton +about it. People couldn't say athletics were a waste of time then. +Well, to come back to <i>him</i>. He was a hummer when he was in college. +He was awfully popular, and he stood away up in his class, and they +say, in athletics, there wasn't anything he couldn't do. They wanted +him for the crew, and they wanted him on the nine, but he wouldn't do +either. I guess he didn't have any too much money then, and he told +them, straight out, that he'd come to college to work, and not for +athletics. He wasn't a crank, though; he took his exercise every day, +only he didn't waste any time over it. And finally the trainer of the +track team spotted him and got him to come out for the jumps. Golly, +but he surprised them. He never seemed to take such a lot of pains +about it, but I guess he was what they call a natural jumper. Anyway, +before he got through, he did six feet in the high, and twenty-three +two and a half in the broad. Perhaps that didn't hold them for a +while. So you can see he's a good man to be master of a school. He's +been through the thing himself, and he's got this whole athletic +business down fine.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I remember the talk he had with me when I first came to the school; +it made me take a shine to him right away. He doesn't lecture you, you +know, as if you were a kid; he talks to you just as if you were grown +up, and knew as much as he did; maybe more. Well, first of all, he +told me he didn't think any school could succeed where the master and +the boys weren't in harmony; and then he went ahead and gave me his +ideas on athletics. He said he liked them, and approved of them, and +meant to do all he could to encourage them--but that he was going to +keep them in their place. He said athletics were to help out lessons, +and not to hinder them; and that there wasn't any need of any conflict +between the two. But if there was a conflict, he said--if a fellow got +so crazy over athletics that he couldn't study--then the athletics +would have to go. And if that made the fellow feel so bad that even +then he couldn't study--or <i>wouldn't</i> study--why, then it would be the +fellow himself that would have to go. But he meant that more for a +joke, I guess; nothing like that's ever happened since he started the +school. It's a pretty pig-headed fellow that can't get along with Mr. +Fenton. He's got a great way with him, somehow or other; I don't know +just how he does it, but he gets lots of fellows interested in +studying that you'd think were too lazy even to want to learn the +alphabet straight. Oh, I tell you, Randall, he's all right."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "I'll bet he is," he answered with enthusiasm. He was +beginning to feel the genuine <i>esprit de corps</i>; was realizing, for +the first time, that a school might be something more than a place +where one came merely to "do" one's lessons, and to learn enough to +enter college in safety. "Yes," he went on, "that sounds mighty +sensible to me. And as you say, Allen, where a man's been an athlete +himself, and a scholar, too, why, you can't help feeling a respect for +what he thinks about things. I can understand, though, about fellows +getting too much interested in athletics. I can see right now where +I've got to look out for that, myself. You've seen such a lot of it +here that you don't realize how it takes hold of a fellow that's never +had any show to go into them. I feel as if I'd like to try everything +in sight, if I didn't remember that my father's had to work good and +hard to send me here. And he wouldn't care much for cups and medals, I +guess. 'Book-learning,' that's what he wants to see me get. Still, I +suppose there's time for studying and athletics, too, if a fellow goes +at it right."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen nodded. "Oh, sure there is," he answered. "And don't get the +idea, from what I said, that Mr. Fenton's a crank about it, or that +he's the preachy kind, because he isn't. He's keen on physical +culture, you know. A fellow's got to take his exercise every day, +whether he's a star athlete like Dave, or the worst grind that +ever wanted to swallow a Greek dictionary, roots and all. Oh, Mr. +Fenton likes exercise, only, as he says, there's a happy medium +everywhere--in athletics, just as in everything else. He doesn't want +the fellows to underdo; and he doesn't want them to overdo; and he +keeps an eye on every boy in the school. He takes just as much pride +in having the fellows in good shape physically as he does in having +them go into college with honors; and I tell you we don't have much +sickness around here. So you needn't worry about exercise; there's no +reason why you can't try anything you want. And I should think, to +look at you, Randall, you'd make a crack-a-jack at something. How much +do you weigh? A hundred and sixty?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His companion's build, indeed, fully justified his admiration. Randall +was strong and sturdy, from much hard work in the open, absolutely +healthy, and as rugged and active as a young colt. It was small wonder +that Allen, himself a member of the track team, looked him over with +an appreciative eye.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick flushed with pleasure. "I weigh a little more than that," he +answered. "About a hundred and sixty-eight, I guess. That's nothing, +though. Think of Ellis."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, well," returned Allen, "weight isn't everything." Then added, +with a smile, "You wouldn't think, to look at me, Randall, that I had +any pretensions to being an athlete, now would you? As the song says, +'I'm as thin as the paper on the wall.' I hardly disturb the scales +when I weigh myself."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick looked at him. "Why, I don't know," he answered frankly, and +half-doubtfully, "but I should think, somehow, you look as though you +could run pretty well."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen laughed. "Good guesser," he rejoined. "You've hit it, first +crack. I don't mean, of course, that I'm any good, but running's the +only thing I can do anywhere near well. It took a lot of hard work, +too. I was certainly a lemon when I started in. But last year I won +the quarter in the school games, and I got third in the big meet. So I +won my 'F', and that makes a fellow feel good, you know. Shows he's +done something for the school."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick looked puzzled. "Won your 'F'?" he questioned. "What does that +mean, Allen?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why," answered his friend, "if you make the crew, or the nine, or the +track team, you get an athletic suit and a sweater. And on the shirt +and the sweater there's a big 'F', and a little 'A' on each side of +it. A. F. A.--Fenton Athletic Association. The crew fellows get a +white sweater, with the letters in red; the nine have gray sweaters, +with red letters; and the track team have red sweaters, with the +letters in white. And if you're on a winning crew, or a winning nine, +you can rip off the 'A. A.' from your sweater, and that leaves just +the big 'F', and shows you're a point winner for the school. With the +track team, it's a little different, because there it's more a case of +every fellow for himself. You can't have the same kind of team work +that you can with the nine and the crew. So when the big meet comes +for the cup, no matter whether the school wins or not, if you get +first, second or third in your event, then you're a point winner, and +you've got a right to your 'F'. Now, do you see?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "Sure," he answered, "I've got that all straight; but now +there's another thing I don't understand. What's the big meet? And +what's the cup? You were going to tell me about the cup when we +started, and then we got switched off on to something else."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen smiled. "I guess 'something else' was Mr. Fenton," he said. "I'm +pretty apt to talk people to death about him. I think he's a corker, +and I don't mind saying so. I'd rather have him think I was all right +than win my 'F,' ten times over, and that's putting it pretty strong, +too. Well, about the cup. That's a cinch to explain. It's just like +this. There are three schools, you see, right around here, in a kind +of ten-mile triangle. There's Clinton Academy and Hopevale and +ourselves. We've always had some sort of league with one another, in +all kinds of athletics, ever since the schools started, but six or +seven years ago the masters and some of the graduates got together, +and put things right on a systematic basis. Some rich old chap in New +York, who was a graduate of Hopevale, and had a couple of boys in the +school, donated a cup--a perfect peach--to be competed for every year +until one school won it three times and then it was to be theirs for +good. They put five sports on the schedule: foot-ball, base-ball, +track and crew, which counted three points each; and the Pentathlon, +which counted one. The school that won the most out of those thirteen +points held the cup for that year.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Hopevale made a great start. They had some dandy athletes in +the school then--some folks were mean enough to say that was why the +old fellow in New York gave the cup--but anyway, however that was, +they won, hands down, for two years running. The next year they +thought there was nothing to it--they thought they couldn't lose--and +I guess they eased up a little, and didn't train quite so hard as they +did the other years. Well, they got a surprise all right, for Clinton +beat them out. They made six points that year, to four for Hopevale, +and three for us. And then, the year after that, Dave Ellis entered +school, and we had our turn. We got so, with Dave at full-back, we +never thought about the three points in foot-ball at all--we figured +them just like money in the bank--all we used to wonder about, was how +big the score was going to be. And then, in the spring sports, we had +Mansfield pitching on the nine, and Harrison stroking the crew, +and of course Dave came in strong again on the track. Oh, we had +things easy for the next two years. The second year we won all +thirteen points--made a clean sweep of everything. So <i>we</i> began to +get cocky--same as Hopevale--but we never let up, you can bet; we +worked as though we thought we hadn't a show, unless we kept on doing +our darndest.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And then of course everything had to go wrong. Mansfield graduated +that year, and Harrison's father died, and he had to leave school; and +then this fellow Johnson came to Clinton, and he was certainly a find. +He and Dave had it out, hammer and tongs, in the track meet, and again +in the Pentathlon, and Johnson had the best of it both times. And +Clinton beat us by four points, and evened things up again. So you can +see what a scrap it's been, right from the start--it couldn't very +well have been closer--and you can imagine what it's going to be next +spring. Each school has won the cup twice, so of course this time's +got to settle it. Clinton has it all figured out that they're going to +win. They give us the crew, and Hopevale the base-ball, but they say +that with Johnson right they're sure to take the track meet, and +the Pentathlon, too. But of course no one can tell as far ahead as +that--it's foolish to try. Still, that's a pretty good prediction, I +think myself, unless Dave can show an improvement over last year on +the track. He says he can--he says he's been training all summer, and +that he's in the shape of his life.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know what he's figuring on. If the three schools should be tied, +and it should all hang on the Pentathlon, why, the fellow who won that +would be a regular tin god, you know; he'd go down in the history of +the school like George Washington in the history of the country. And +Dave wouldn't mind being that fellow a little bit. Not that I'm trying +to knock him, you understand. That's a good, legitimate ambition. I'd +like to be the fellow myself; only I need a hundred pounds of weight, +more or less, and about a foot more height, before I'd fit in the +Pentathlon. And there's another reason for Dave's practising, too; he +wants to get back at Johnson. Dave can't take a licking, you know; he +isn't used to it, and it hurts. He claims he's going to square up this +spring, but I'm not so sure. Johnson's an awfully good man, and the +Pentathlon's no cinch for any one, no matter who he is."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick, wholly absorbed in his friend's recital, drew a long breath as +Allen concluded. "By gracious," he exclaimed. "That is exciting, isn't +it? Suppose it did work out that way. Just think of it. To have it +hang on a single point, and then to have our school win--to have Ellis +beat Johnson. Oh, that would be great!" He paused a moment, and then +added: "Just tell me one other thing, Allen, and I won't bother you +any more. I've got everything else straight, but just what's the +Pentathlon, anyway?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen laughed. "I'm going to send you in a bill for private tutoring," +he said good-humoredly. "This is an awful strain on my mind, giving +you so much information free. And it would take a Philadelphia lawyer +to explain the Pentathlon straight. We go back a few thousand years, +just for a starter, to the days of the Greeks. 'The glory that was +Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome.' Edgar Allan Poe, Randall. +Ever read him? Ever read <i>The Haunted Palace?</i> No? Well, you just waltz +into the library some day and take a crack at it. If I could write one +poem like that, I'd quit work for the rest of my life; I'd feel I'd +done enough. Well, never mind, that's not the Pentathlon, is it? I +need a muzzle, I think; that's the only trouble with me. Now, then, +reverse the power. Back we go, back to the Greeks. They had a kind of +all-around championship in their sports, you know; they called it the +Pentathlon. <i>Pente</i>, five; <i>athlos</i>, contest; five-event, I suppose +we'd say, now. First, I believe, it was running, jumping, throwing the +discus, wrestling and fighting; and then, later, they cut out the +fighting and put in the javelin instead. We've got the same kind of +thing to-day--the all-around championship they call it. Dave says he +means to try it some time when he goes to college. But it's too much +for school-boys, of course; it's ten events instead of five, and +there's a mile run in it and a half-mile walk.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So our Pentathlon is modeled on the Greeks. We have five +events, too: hundred-yard dash, sixteen-pound shot, high jump, +hundred-and-twenty-yard high hurdles and throwing the twelve-pound +hammer. You see, it's a pretty good test. You've got to have speed for +the hundred and the hurdles, and spring for the high jump, and +strength for the shot and the hammer. And something else besides; +skill for all five of them. The four S's, Mr. Fenton says, speed, +spring, strength and skill. He's a great believer in the Pentathlon; +says it develops a fellow all over; arms and legs, back and chest; the +whole of him. There's a dandy prize for it, too--a silver shield with +an athlete on it, going through all the different events. But the +scoring is the ingenious part; the man who thought that up was a +wonder. You see it isn't like regular athletics--it's more like a kind +of examination paper. Take the hundred, for instance. If you went into +the Pentathlon and ran the hundred in nine and three-fifths--that's +the world's record, you know--you'd get a hundred points; just the +same as if you answered all the questions right in an examination. And +then, at the other end, they set a mark so low that the smallest kid +in school could beat it; twenty seconds, say. That's the zero mark, +same as if you answered every question in the examination wrong. And +for every second, and fraction of a second, in between you're marked +according to what you do.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's the same, of course, with the other events, so you <i>could</i> make +a total of five hundred; theoretically, I mean. Of course, really, no +man ever lived--I don't suppose a man ever will live--who could be +fast enough to be a champion sprinter and hurdler, and strong enough +to be a champion weight man, and springy enough to be a champion +high-jumper--all at the same time. Johnson made the record last +spring--two hundred and eighty points--and that's awfully good for a +schoolboy. He isn't such a big fellow, either; I don't believe he +weighs much over a hundred and fifty; but he's fast--he can do a +hundred in ten-two, all right--and he's a good hurdler and jumper, but +he's not quite heavy enough for the weights. Still, Dave's got his job +cut out for him; there's no doubt about that. Well, here we are; and, +by gracious, we're late, too."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_2" href="#div2Ref_2">DAVE ELLIS BREAKS A RECORD</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">While Allen had been speaking, they had reached the entrance to the +field; and as they passed the gateway in the high wooden fence they +could see Ellis, on the other side of the track, just getting on his +marks for the hundred yards. Ned Brewster, the captain of the track +team, stood behind him, pistol in hand. Farther up the track, at the +finish, were the three timers: Mr. Fenton, Doctor Hartman, the +physical director of the school, and Jim Putnam, the captain of the +crew. "Come on," cried Allen, and breaking into a quick run they +reached the farther side of the field, halfway up the stretch, +just as the pistol cracked, and Ellis leaped away into his stride. +They pulled up instantly to watch him. He seemed to run mainly on +sheer strength, paying little attention to form. As he flew past them, +Dick, gazing at him open-mouthed, was dimly conscious of a number of +things. He noticed that Ellis' face was contorted with the effort he +was making, and heard his breath coming in short, agonized grunts, +"ugh--ugh--ugh--" as he strove to increase his speed. The cinders +crunched sharply under his flying feet, and with a thrill of envy Dick +saw on his crimson jersey the big white "F" of the school. He felt +that Ellis was indeed a hero. "Golly," he said half aloud, "if I could +only run like that!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen, more skilled in estimating a runner's speed, and more critical +as well, showed little enthusiasm as Ellis, with a final effort, +breasted the tape. "I guess that wasn't much," he observed. "I don't +believe Johnson would worry a great deal if he saw that. Not better +than eleven, anyway, and I don't believe as good. Speed was never +Dave's strong point, you know. Let's find out how fast it was."</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked up to the timers. Ellis, jogging slowly back, shook his +head as he neared the group. "Slow," he said. "I knew it, all the way +down. Couldn't seem to get going. How bad was it, Mr. Fenton?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The master, a tall, finely-built man of middle age, with a pleasant, +clean-cut face, snapped back his stop-watch, then looked up at the +runner. "Why, it wasn't bad, Dave," he said cheerfully enough, "it's a +cold day for good time. No one could expect to do much on an afternoon +like this. You made it in eleven and two-fifths; all three watches +were the same. And that's not bad at all; it gives you sixty-six +points, to start with. Take your five minutes' rest now, and we'll try +the shot."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis nodded, and walked away into the dressing-room to change his +light sprinting shoes for the heavier ones, with extra spikes in the +heel, to be used in the shot put and high jump. Five minutes later he +came out again and walked across the field to the whitewashed circle, +took an easy practice put or two, and then made ready for his first +try. The doctor and Putnam stood by to act as measurers, with the tape +unrolled along the ground. Mr. Fenton stood near the circle, as judge. +"Remember now, Dave," he said, "only three tries. Make the first one +safe and sure, and don't forget to walk out the rear half of the +circle, or I shall have to call a foul."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis nodded, and at once made ready to put. Dick watched him +admiringly, as he stood motionless, his weight thrown well back on his +right leg, the toe of his left foot just touching the ground, the big +iron shot resting easily against his shoulder. All at once he raised +his left leg, balanced for a moment, and then sprang forward. The +instant his right foot touched the ground he brought his body around +like lightning, his right arm shot forward, and the big iron ball went +hurtling through the air, landing a good six feet beyond his practice +marks. Mr. Fenton gave an involuntary exclamation of surprise. "Well, +well," he cried, "you <i>have</i> improved, Dave; that's excellent form; +and good distance, too. That must be thirty-eight feet, at least."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor held the tape against the inner edge of the toe-board; +Putnam, at the other end, pulled it tight, and bent critically +down over the mark left by the shot. Then he straightened up, +waving his arm, with a broad smile on his face. "Bully!" he shouted, +"thirty-eight, five and a half."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis laughed, well pleased. "I told you I'd improved, Mr. Fenton," he +said, "and I can beat that, too. I guess that's going to make +Johnson's thirty-four feet look pretty sick, all right."</p> + +<p class="normal">He seemed wholly unconscious of the disagreeable boastfulness of his +tone. Allen, however, threw Dick a significant glance, which seemed to +find a reflection in the rather grim expression on Mr. Fenton's face. +The master looked as though he wished he had withheld his words of +well-meant praise. "Perhaps, Dave," he said quietly, "Johnson may show +improvement, too. It's better to overrate the other man than to +underrate him."</p> + +<p class="normal">If he intended to throw any reproof into his tone it was lost on +Ellis, who seemed, indeed, scarcely to heed what the master was +saying. "Throw her back, Jim," he called to Putnam. "I'm going to get +her out for fair this time."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam rolled back the shot. Ellis grasped it, balanced as before, +knitted his brows, stiffened his muscles, and then, with every atom of +strength at his command, delivered it. The result was disappointing. +Something seemed lacking, and Putnam rose from making his measurement +with a shake of his head. "Not so good," he called. "Thirty-seven +nine."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis turned to Mr. Fenton. "That was queer," he said disappointedly. +"I thought I was going to lose it that time. Wonder what the trouble +was."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton smiled. "You tried too hard," he said. "That's one thing to +remember, Dave, in the shot. The more you grit your teeth, and brace +yourself for a great attempt, the worse you're apt to do. On your +first try you stood up to it naturally, with your muscles relaxed; but +on that last put your right arm was so rigid there was no chance to +get your body into it. Now make this next try like the first one; only +when you land from your hop, then come smashing right through with it; +put all your strength on, just in that one second, and we'll see if we +don't get results."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick laughed to himself. Here, he thought, was a modern master with a +vengeance. What would the folks at home think of a teacher, renowned +for giving "the best English course outside of college," vigorously +telling one of his pupils to come "smashing right through" with a +sixteen-pound shot. And yet, while Dick smiled, he felt his respect +for Mr. Fenton in nowise diminished, but, indeed, rather increased, by +seeing him thus display his knowledge of track and field. For the +master, while always in friendly contact with his boys, never for a +moment overstepped the proper bounds of the relationship. He was a +hundred times more their friend, yet no whit less the master. Dick +could scarcely have reasoned it out, step by step, yet with +instinctive judgment, he found himself echoing Allen's words of a few +moments before, "Mr. Fenton's all right."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis, with a nod of comprehension, made ready for his third try. He +started slowly, and then, as the master had suggested, put forth all +his strength in one tremendous lunge. The effort was successful; the +put was a splendid one. Putnam hurried to the spot, measured with +care, and then triumphantly announced: "Thirty-nine, seven and a +quarter."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton nodded. "Very good, indeed," he said cordially. "This is a +fine start, Dave." He drew forth his note-book from his pocket, +calculated a moment, and then added: "Sixty-four points; that makes +one hundred and thirty, in two events. This looks like a record."</p> + +<p class="normal">With the trials in the high jump, however, Ellis' chances appeared +less favorable. Even to Dick's inexperienced eye, it was evident that +the big full-back was never cut out for a jumper. He ran slowly at the +bar, from the side, clearing it awkwardly, with very little bound or +spring. Mr. Fenton shook his head. "Still the old style?" he queried. +"I thought you were going to try running straight at the bar in your +vacation, Dave?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis looked a little shamefaced. "Well," he answered, "I did try it, +Mr. Fenton, but I couldn't seem to get the knack, so I dropped it. It +didn't come natural, somehow."</p> + +<p class="normal">The master smiled. "How long did you keep at it?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis considered. "Oh, quite a while," he answered. "A week, I guess, +anyway."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton's smile broadened. "I think I told you, Dave," he said, +"before vacation, that you mustn't get discouraged too soon. It's one +of the hardest things in the world when you've once acquired your form +in an event, to try to alter it. I know, in my day, I went through the +experience. And it took me six months before I began to reap the +advantage of the change. Here's a more modern instance, too. I was +talking only this summer with the best pole-vaulter at Yale, and he +told me that to change from the old-fashioned style of vaulting to the +new had meant, for him, nearly a year of steady, monotonous work, with +the bar scarcely higher than his head, before he felt satisfied that +the knack was so thoroughly a part of him that he couldn't miss it if +he tried. Then he put his knowledge into practice, and a thirteen-foot +man was the result. So a week wasn't so very long, comparatively, +Dave."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I can't jump anyway," he +responded. "I'm going to get the agony over with. I'll have to make up +what I lose here in the hammer."</p> + +<p class="normal">The bar was raised, two inches at a time, until four feet ten was +reached. Here Ellis missed twice, and just managed to get over in +safety on his last try. He had plainly reached his limit, and at four +eleven made three disastrous failures. He shook his head ruefully. "I +can't jump," he repeated. "It's no good my trying."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton figured the result. "Forty-two points," he announced. "That +brings you up to a hundred and seventy-two. But if you'll practice +steadily at the other style, Dave, and not try to do too much at +first, until you've really learned the knack, you can jump three or +four inches higher, I'm sure. However, never mind that now. The +hurdles are next, and I think you'll make a better showing there."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam and Allen had been setting out the hurdles on the track. To +Dick, they looked terribly formidable. Ten of them in a row, each +three and a half feet high, placed ten yards apart, with fifteen yards +of clear running at start and finish. "Gracious," he thought to +himself, "how can he ever get over all those without tripping. This +Pentathlon looks like a hard proposition to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Scarcely, however, had Ellis cleared the first hurdle than Dick felt +his enthusiasm return. It was all so different from what he had +imagined--the whole race was so pretty and graceful to watch. When +Putnam fired the pistol Ellis dashed away at full speed; then, +nearing the first hurdle, leaped forward, his body crouched, his legs +gathered under him, cleared it handsomely in his stride, and was off +for the next. Dick felt like shouting aloud, as Ellis swept down +toward the finish. Three strides between each hurdle, and then that +quick forward bound; Dick found himself catching the rhythm of it. +One--two--three--up! One--two--three--up! Ellis cleared the last +hurdle and flashed past the tape.</p> + +<p class="normal">The three timers consulted, then Mr. Fenton announced: "Eighteen four; +fifty-two points; that's a total of two hundred and twenty-four." He +figured for a moment with pencil and paper, then turned to Ellis, as +he came walking back toward the finish. "First-rate, Dave," he said. +"A hundred and forty feet with the hammer, now, and you'll beat +Johnson's total. Do you think you can do it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis nodded. "I can do that all right," he answered confidently. +"Just wait a minute, till I get my breath."</p> + +<p class="normal">A few moments later he had taken his position in the seven-foot ring, +and was preparing to throw. Dick looked with interest at the leaden +ball, with the slender wire handle, and the stirrup-shaped grips at +the end. "Is that what you call a hammer?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen nodded. "Sure, that's a hammer," he answered. "It is a kind of +misfit name, though, when you come to think of it, isn't it? They +really did use a sledge hammer, I believe, once on a time, but they've +changed it so much, you wouldn't think the kind they use to-day +belonged to the same family. Just watch Dave throw it, though."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis crouched slightly, extending his arms straight out from his +body. He swung the hammer around his head, once, twice, three times, +constantly increasing its speed; and then, at the third revolution, +spun sharply around on his heel and made his throw. It was a splendid +try. The hammer went sailing out, high and far, landing with a thud in +the soft grass half-way down the field. Dick's eyes kindled. "Oh, say, +Allen, but that was pretty," he cried. "That's the best event of all +of them. I wonder if he did a hundred and forty."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a little delay over the measuring. Then Putnam put his +hand to his lips and shouted in across the field, "One hundred and +forty-two eleven."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis picked up his sweater. "I'm not going to take my other throws, +sir," he said to Mr. Fenton. "I don't think I could better that one +much; and as long as I've beaten Johnson's total, I don't care. I +think, when I get a good warm-day next spring, I can do twenty points +better, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton nodded. "I think you can," he answered. "It's too cold +to-day to do your best work. Everything considered, your performance +was excellent. If we can increase that high jump a little, you'll be +the next Pentathlon winner, unless Johnson shows great improvement +over last year. And I hardly think he will. His lack of weight is +against him for all-around work."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis, visibly elated, jogged back toward the dressing-room. Mr. +Fenton and the doctor started to leave the field. The boys who had +been looking on walked after Ellis, in a little group, discussing his +performance. Dick turned to Allen. "Any harm in my trying that shot?" +he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, indeed," Allen answered. "You've got just as much right as any +one else. Go ahead!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick, a little shamefaced, picked up the iron ball; stood, as nearly +as he could remember, in the same position he had seen Ellis assume; +made a cautious hop, and a slow and awkward put. Yet Allen, watching +where the shot struck, turned and looked curiously at his friend. +"Golly, Randall," he observed, "you must have some muscle somewhere. +There wasn't a thing about that put that was right, but it went just +the same." He paced back toward the circle. "Close to thirty feet," he +said. "That's awfully good for a fellow just beginning. Try another."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick, secretly pleased at the impression he had made, determined to +give Allen a still greater surprise. Promptly forgetting what he had +heard Mr. Fenton tell Ellis, he braced his muscles, made a quick, long +hop, tried to turn, caught his foot in the toe-board, and measured his +length upon the field. Allen roared. "Oh, bully, Randall," he cried, +"I wouldn't have missed that for money. 'Vaulting ambition, which +o'erleaps itself.' That's you, all right. Didn't hurt yourself, did +you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick, picking himself up, grinned a little ruefully, as he +contemplated the grass-stains which decorated the knees of his +trousers. "No," he answered; "I didn't, but I surprised myself a +little. I was going to show you something right in Ellis' class that +time. I guess I'll own up that's one on me. I'm going to try that high +jump, though. That's one thing I did use to do when I was a kid. I +don't believe I'll break my neck on that."</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked over to the jumping standards. "How high will you have +her?" Allen asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick smiled. "Oh, I'm cautious now," he rejoined. "Put her at four +feet. Maybe I can do that, if I haven't forgotten how."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen adjusted the bar. Dick backed away from the standards, measured +the distance with his eye, and ran down the path, increasing his speed +with his last three bounds. Then, easily and without effort, he shot +up into the air, sailed high over the bar, and landed safely in the +pit beyond. Allen gasped. "Good Heavens, Randall," he exclaimed; "what +have I struck? Why, man, you went over that by a foot. You've got an +awful spring."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick laughed. "Well, I had to do something to make up for the shot," +he said. "But, honestly, it did feel good. I haven't jumped for a long +time, though I used to be pretty fair; or at least they thought so at +home. But that doesn't count for very much; it's a big world."</p> + +<p class="normal">While they stood talking, the door of the dressing-room swung open, +and Ellis came out, followed by two or three of his friends. As they +passed Allen turned. "Say, Dave," he called; "did you hear about the +new Pentathlon champion?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis stopped. "What's the joke?" he asked, not over pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen laid a hand on Randall's shoulder. "It isn't any joke," he +replied; "Randall here. He's just been beating all your marks. You +won't have a show with him by next spring."</p> + + +<p class="center"><img src="images/vengefully.png" alt="Dick looked vengefully after Ellis"></p> + + +<p class="normal">He spoke banteringly, but any allusion to a possible rival always had +a sting for Ellis. He looked Dick over from head to foot; then slowly +smiled. "Guess he'll have to grow a little first," he said cuttingly, +and turned on his heel.</p> + +<p class="normal">Two or three of his followers laughed. Dick felt his face grow red. +"Confound him!" he muttered.</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen's grip on his shoulder deepened. "Don't you mind," he said +consolingly. "That's Dave, every time. Only one toad in his puddle, +you know. But you wait. If I know anything about athletics, you'll +show him something some day."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick looked a little vengefully after Ellis' retreating figure. The +athlete's words and tone both rankled. "If I could," he said slowly, +"I'd like to--mighty well."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_3" href="#div2Ref_3">DICK AND JIM GO ON A SHOOTING TRIP.</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Two months of the fall term had come and gone; Thanksgiving Day was +close at hand. Dick stood in front of his locker, dressing leisurely +after his practice on the track, and chatting with Jim Putnam, the +captain of the crew. Athletics were uppermost in their talk. They +discussed everything in turn--the arguments, pro and con, for winning +the cup; the chances of the crew, the nine, the track team; the rival +merits of Dave Ellis and Johnson for the Pentathlon; then all at once +Putnam abruptly changed the subject. "Oh, say, Dick," he remarked; "I +was going to ask you something and I came pretty near forgetting it. +What about Thanksgiving? You're not going home, are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head. "No, it's too far," he answered. "I'm going to +wait till Christmas. I suppose, though, most of the fellows do go +home."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Yes," he answered, "it's so near for most of them, +they can do it all right without any trouble. I guess you and I live +about as far away as any two fellows in the school. But I was +thinking--as long as we're going to be here--I've got what I call a +bully good scheme. Did I ever tell you about the lake, away up north +of the village, where they get the ducks?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head, his interest at once awakened. "No," he answered; +"I didn't know that there were any ducks around here, Jim."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, there are," returned Putnam; "but most people don't know it. I +didn't get on to it until last spring. I was taking a tramp up through +that way in the spring recess, and I stopped at a farm-house for the +night. The folks were as nice as they could be. There's a young fellow +that runs the farm, and his wife and three or four kids. Well, after +supper we got talking about the country around there and the lake, and +then he started telling me about the ducks. He says there are a lot of +them every fall that keep trading to and fro between the lake and salt +water, and that stay around, right up to the time things freeze. They +leave the lake at daylight and don't come back till afternoon. And +that's the time to shoot them. You set decoys off one of the points, +and make a blind, and he's got a dandy retriever that brings in the +ducks. He only shoots a few. He says he's busy about the farm, and he +lives so far away there's not much use gunning them for market. So he +just kills what he can use himself. But he told me any time I wanted +to come up, he'd give me a good shoot and I've been meaning to do it +all the fall; only the crew has taken so much of my time, I haven't +got around to it. It takes a day to do it right, anyway.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So I figured like this. First of all, we'll ask Mr. Fenton if we can +go; but that will be only a matter of form. As long as he knows we're +used to shooting, and are careful with our guns, he'll let us go all +right; that's just the kind of a trip he likes fellows to take. Then +we'll get word up to Cluff--that's the farmer, you know--that we're +coming; and then we'll hire a team down in the village and we'll start +Thanksgiving morning. It'll take us two or three hours to get up +there, and then we'll have dinner, and have plenty of time to get +everything ready for the afternoon. Cluff's got decoys, and I suppose, +as long as it's Thanksgiving, he'll go along with us, and see that we +get set in a good place. Then we'll have the afternoon shooting, and +we can get supper there, and drive home in the evening. It's full +moon, so if it stays clear it'll be as light as day. How does that +strike you, Dick? Are you game?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Am I game?" repeated Randall. "Well, I should rather say I was. I +haven't fired a gun for a year. They laughed at me at home for packing +away my old shooting-iron in the bottom of my trunk; but I'll have the +laugh on them now. I do certainly like to shoot ducks. What kinds do +they have here, Jim?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, Cluff says there are lots of black ducks," Putnam answered; "and +pintails, and teal. And some years, if there comes a good breeze +outside, they have a flight of blackheads and redheads. Oh, if what he +said was so, I guess we'll get some ducks all right. Let's make a +start, anyway. I vote we go and see Mr. Fenton now."</p> + +<p class="normal">They found the master in his study, and were forthwith questioned and +cross-questioned, with good-natured thoroughness, until Mr. Fenton had +satisfied himself that it would be safe to let them take the trip. +Then, as Putnam had predicted, permission was readily enough +forthcoming, though Mr. Fenton was frankly skeptical as to the amount +of game they were going to bring home. "I doubt the ducks, boys," he +told them smilingly; "but you'll have a fine time, just the same, no +matter how many you kill. And don't forget that I'm trusting you. Take +care of yourselves in every way. Don't shoot each other, and don't +fall into the lake; and be sure and bring yourselves back, anyway; it +won't matter so much about the ducks."</p> + +<p class="normal">With many promises of good behavior they left him and hastened down to +the village to hire their team and to send word to Cluff that they +would arrive in time for dinner, on Thanksgiving Day. All that evening +they talked of nothing but their plans; and that night, as Dick fell +asleep, he was busy picturing to himself the appearance of the lake, +seeing himself, in imagination, concealed upon a wooded point, with +the retriever crouching at his side, and a big flock of redheads +bearing swiftly down upon the decoys. So real did the scene become +that half-asleep as he was, he came suddenly to himself to find that +he was sitting bolt upright in bed, trying to bring an imaginary gun +to his shoulder. Then, with a laugh, and with a half-sigh as well, to +find that the ducks had vanished before his very eyes, he lay down +again, and this time went to sleep in good earnest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and bright, warm for the time of year, +with a fresh breeze blowing from the south, and a faint haze hanging +over the tops of the distant hills. By nine o'clock the boys were +ready at the door of the dormitory, guns under their arms, shell-bags +in hand. Shortly they perceived their buggy approaching, and Putnam +gave a shout of laughter at sight of their steed, a little, +shaggy-coated, wiry-looking black mare, scarcely larger than a +good-sized pony. As the outfit drew up before the door, Putnam walked +forward and made a critical examination; then turned to the driver, a +rawboned, sandy-haired countryman, with a pleasant, good-natured face, +and a shrewd and humorous eye. "Will we get there?" he demanded.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man grinned. "You worryin' about Rosy?" he asked. "No call to do +that. She's an ol' reliable, she is. Ben in the stable twenty-five +years, an' never went back on no one yet. Oh, she'll <i>git</i> ye there, +all right, ain't no doubt o' that at all; that is--" he added, "'thout +she sh'd happen to drop dead, or somethin' like that. No hoss is goin' +t' live for ever; specially in a livery stable. But I'll bet ye even +she lasts out the trip."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick laughed, though there was something pathetic, as well, in the +resigned expression with which the mare regarded them, as one who +would say, "This may be all right for you young folks, but it's a +pretty old story for me." "Well, I guess she won't run away," he +hazarded hopefully.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man shook his head with emphasis. "No, <i>sir</i>," he answered, "I +can't imagine nothin' short of a tornado and a earthquake combined, +would make Rosy run. But then again--" he added loyally, "she ain't +near so bad as she looks. O' course, she couldn't show ye a mile in +two minutes, but that ain't what you're lookin' for. Six mile an +hour--that's her schedule--an' she'll stick to it all right, up-hill +and down, good roads an' bad, till the cows come home. An' that's the +kind o' hoss you want."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Yes, sir," he returned, as they stowed away the guns +in the bottom of the buggy, "horse or man--we're for the stayers, +every time. And if Rosy's been sticking it out for twenty-five years, +we'll see she gets treated right now. I guess she deserves it. All +aboard, Dick?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sure," Randall answered; then, turning to the man, "You'd better get +in behind. We'll be going pretty near the stable, so we might as well +give you a lift," and somewhat heavily laden they started, with light +hearts, on their journey toward the lake.</p> + +<p class="normal">They found their passenger decidedly communicative. "It's lucky for +you boys," he presently remarked, "that you ain't no older'n ye be. 'F +you were men, now, you might fairly be expectin' trouble, 'fore ye git +through town."</p> + +<p class="normal">Both boys looked at him with some curiosity. "Why, what do you mean by +that?" asked Putnam. "What's wrong in the village?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Big row," the man answered, "over in the paper mills. They ben havin' +trouble all the fall, fightin' over wages, an' hours, an' most +everythin' else. They'd kind o' manage to agree, an' then, fust thing +you know, they'd be scrappin' again, wuss'n ever. They got a passel o' +furriners in there now," he added with contempt; "guess they think +they're savin' money employin' cheap labor. Mighty <i>dear</i> labor, I +expect 't'll be, 'fore they git through with 'em. These dagoes an' +sich, a-carryin' knives--I do' know, I ain't got much use for 'em. My +opinion, ol' Uncle Sam would do better to have 'em stay home where +they b'long."</p> + +<p class="normal">He paused and spit thoughtfully over the side of the buggy, evidently +contemplating with disgust the presence of "dagoes an' sich," on New +England soil.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well," queried Dick, "what's happened? Have they struck?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The livery man nodded with emphasis. "Surest thing you know," he +answered. "They went out yesterday, the whole gang, an' they ben +loafin' round the town ever since. Things look kind o' ugly to me. +'Cause the owners, they got their sportin' blood up, too, an' they +sent right out o' town for a big gang o' strike-busters, 'n they got +in this mornin'. So there we be; an' as I say, it's lucky you boys +ain't no older, or you might see trouble 'fore night. Well, guess this +is about as near th' stable as we'll come. Much obliged to ye for the +lift. Enjoy yourselves now, an' don't let Rosy git to kickin' up too +lively, so she'll run with ye, an' dump ye out in a ditch. You keep +her steadied down, whatever ye do."</p> + +<p class="normal">With a good-natured grin, he jumped from the buggy and disappeared in +the direction of the stable. The boys, driving onward through the +village, looked around them with interest. The state of affairs +appeared, as their friend had said, "kind o' ugly." Little knots of +dark-skinned foreigners stood here and there about the streets, +sometimes silent and sullen, again listening to the eloquence of some +excited leader, haranguing them in his native tongue, accompanying the +torrent of words with wildly gesticulating arms. As they turned into +the road leading to the north, a dark-browed, scowling striker at the +corner glared angrily at them as they passed, muttering words which +sounded the very reverse of a blessing. Putnam whistled as they drove +on. "Golly, Dick," he observed, "what did you think of that fellow? If +looks could kill, as they say, I guess we'd be done for now. I hope +they don't have a row out of it. Imagine running up against a chap +like that, with a good sharp knife in his fist. I guess it takes some +nerve to be a strike-buster all right."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded assent, but twenty minutes later, strikes and +strike-breakers were alike forgotten, as they left the village behind +them, and struck into the level wood road leading northward to the +lake. The change from civilization to solitude was complete. To right +and left of them, squirrels chattered and scolded among the trees; +chickadees bobbed their little black caps to them as they passed. +Farther back in the woods a blue-jay screamed; overhead, high up in +the blue, a great hawk sailed, circling, with no slightest motion of +his outspread wings. The road stretched straight before them, +narrowing, in the distance, to a mere thread between the wall of trees +on either hand. The wind blew fair from the south; old Rosy settled +down to the six miles an hour for which she was famed. Both boys +leaned back in the seat, extended their legs ungracefully, but in +perfect comfort, over the dashboard of the buggy, and then heaved a +long sigh of well-being and content.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick was the first to speak. "Jim," he observed, "this is great. This +is what I call living. It's just as Mr. Fenton said; this is good +enough as it is if we don't get any ducks."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded assent. "You bet it is," he answered, "but we'll get the +ducks, too. We'll surprise Mr. Fenton, if we can." He was silent for a +moment, then added, "Say, Dick, you've been here two months now. What +do you think of the master anyway; and what do you think of the +school?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick did not hesitate. "I think they're both bully," he answered +promptly. "At first I used to laugh at Harry Allen for the way he went +on about Mr. Fenton. I thought it sounded pretty foolish; but +everything he said is so. I can't imagine how any one could be much +nicer. It's just as Allen told me once--he doesn't preach, you know; I +hate the pious kind of talk like anything; but he's just--well, I +don't know--just so darned <i>square</i> to a fellow, somehow. And then, if +you try to do anything yourself--just in little ways, I mean--you've +kind of got the feeling that he's on to it, right away. He never gives +you any soft soap, either, but if you're trying to plug along about +right, you've got a sort of idea that he knows it; and if you're up to +something you oughtn't to be up to, you've got just the same feeling +that he's on to that, too. It's hard to explain; it's just like--just +as if--oh, well, confound it, Jim, I can't put it into words, but you +know what I mean."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Sure I do," he answered; "and it <i>is</i> hard to put into +words just the way you say. That was the reason I asked. I wanted to +see how it hit you, coming into the school new the way you have. But +it's so, isn't it? He never <i>talks</i> about being good, or about doing +your duty, or any of that sort of thing--he only makes a speech once a +year, at commencement, and that's a short one. But I'll tell you what +I guess the secret is. I could never have expressed it--I'm not smart +enough--but my father was up here last year, at graduation, and I +asked him afterward, when we got home, what he thought it was about +Mr. Fenton that made every one like him so. He said that was an easy +one; that every man, who really made a success of his life, had two +things back of him. First, he was in love with his work, and second, +he had high ideals <i>about</i> his work. And he said you couldn't talk +with Mr. Fenton for five minutes, without seeing what an interest he +took in his school, and in his boys, and that more than making +scholars out of them, or athletes out of them, he wanted to make them +into men. And I guess that's about what we were trying to put in +words, and couldn't."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick thought hard; then nodded. "Well, I guess so, too," he answered, +and then, after a pause, "But now look here, Jim, if that's so, what +do you think about this business of class president? Because that's an +awfully important thing for the school. It shows people at graduation +the kind of fellow we want to put forward to represent the class; and +the honor sticks to him in college, and really, you might say, in a +kind of way all through his life. And you can't tell me that you think +Dave Ellis is the fellow Mr. Fenton would honestly like to see elected +president, now can you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered; "but that isn't up +to Mr. Fenton, Dick; he never would interfere in anything like that. +And I'll tell you why. I met a fellow last summer who was quite +prominent here in the school four or five years ago. We got to talking +about different things and finally I told him about Dave and the +presidency. He said that the year he graduated there was a lot of +feeling in his class over the election and that finally some of the +fellows went to Mr. Fenton and asked him if he wouldn't use his +influence to try and get the right man in. He told them that was +something he couldn't do; that if school life did anything at all it +fitted fellows to meet some of the obstacles they'd have to run up +against later in their lives and that this was just one of the things +they would have to do their best to work out by themselves without +coming to him. And, of course, you can see, when you come to think of +it, that he was right. It's just like a republic and a monarchy; we +wouldn't want even as good a man as Mr. Fenton to rule us like a king. +It's his part to get as much sense into us as he can, and if he can't +make us smart enough to tell a good fellow from a bad one, why, that +isn't his fault. We've got to take the responsibility for that +ourselves."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I see," Dick assented; "but it's too bad, just the same, if we +elect Dave. Because he isn't in it with Allen as a fellow. Harry's +<i>white</i> clear through. But it's funny about Dave. He's certainly got +an awful following; and I suppose he's dead sure to win."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Yes, I think he is," he answered; "and really +you can't wonder at it, either. Athletics count for such a lot +nowadays--too much, I think--and somehow if a fellow is a star +athlete, that seems to blind every one to his faults. And then you +know what they say--that nothing succeeds like success. And Dave's +really done a lot for the school in an athletic way. And they all +think he'll be the big winner this spring; they think he'll land the +Pentathlon, and help win the track meet, and of course that all helps. +And then he's got that kind of a don't-give-a-darn manner. It jars a +lot of the fellows, of course, just as it does you and me, but then, +on the other hand, with a lot of the younger boys, it goes in great +style. I think they imagine it's just about the sort of air that a +really great man ought to have. It's funny to see some of them trying +to imitate it. No, Dave's got the inside track.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Allen's the better fellow, of course--Harry's about as nice as they +come--but I don't see how he can win. And it's queer, too, you know; +but his being such a corker in a literary way hurts him just as much +as it helps him. He doesn't mean any harm by the way he's quoting his +old poets all the time, but it doesn't go with the crowd. You know how +it is. If you don't know a thing, and the other fellow does know it, +and you have kind of a guilty feeling all the time that you ought to +know it and don't, why then you sort of square up with yourself by +getting to dislike the other fellow for knowing more than you do. +That's sad, but it's true. And yet, of course, as I say, right down at +the bottom, there's no comparison between the two fellows. Allen's as +fair and square as a die, and the most kind-hearted chap that ever +stepped, nice to everybody, big boys and small. And Dave--well, I +don't know. I wouldn't slander a fellow for anything, but I don't +think I'd trust old Dave very far. Did I ever tell you about Ned +Brewster and the daily themes?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head. "No, I don't think you ever did," he answered. +"What about it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why," said Putnam; "it happened like this. There's an English course +in college, you know, where they have to write a theme every day. We +have the same thing here, for a month, second half year--English +Fourteen. Well, Ned Brewster was talking to a crowd of fellows one day +about a letter his brother had written him from college, telling quite +a lot about this daily theme business--all about the good ones, and +the funny ones, and a lot of things like that. Ned never thought +anything more about it, but a little while after that Dave came to +him, and asked him if he didn't think it would be an awfully good +scheme to get Ned's brother to have copies of all his themes made and +sent down to Ned, so they'd be all solid for that month of English +Fourteen. Bright idea, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick whistled. "Well," he ejaculated; "the mean skunk! What nerve! +What did Ned say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam grinned. "Not very much," he answered. "He told me he thought +at first Dave was joking, but when he got it through his head that he +was really in earnest I guess his language was quite picturesque. Dave +hates him like poison now, and it makes it hard for Ned, being captain +of the track team, you know, and Dave being the star athlete. It gives +Dave all sorts of mean little chances to try to make the fellows think +Ned isn't being square about the work, and all that sort of thing. You +know what I mean. He keeps grumbling all the time, and saying that Ned +shows favoritism to fellows he likes, and a lot of rot like that. And +it hurts, too, because there are always some fellows foolish enough to +believe it, and the first thing you know, you've got a split in the +class. However, we're none of us perfect, so I suppose we can't be too +hard on Dave. Maybe we can elect Allen, anyway. Something may happen +in the next six weeks. I know one thing, anyway; Dave's got to hustle +like a good one if he means to keep up in his work. I understand that +he's right on the danger line now, and the mid tears are always pretty +stiff, harder than the finals, I always thought. If he shouldn't pass, +he wouldn't be eligible for the presidency--and as far as that goes, +he wouldn't be eligible for athletics either. Wouldn't that raise the +deuce? I suppose the track team would crumple like a piece of paper +without Dave in the weights and the Pentathlon. Golly, though, that +reminds me, Dick. Ned Brewster says you're the coming man on the +track. Is that straight? Did you really do five six in the gym?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "Well, yes," he answered; "I believe I did. Only once, +though. You know how it is. A fellow will get in a lucky jump, once in +a while."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam laughed. "Don't be so ashamed of it," he said good-naturedly. +"That's a corking good jump for any one. Some fellows go plugging +along half their lives, and don't get that high. Who can beat it, +besides Johnson?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick pondered. "Well, I can't think of any one," he said at last; +"still, there may be a lot of fellows I don't know about--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam cut him short. "Oh, nonsense," he cried; "don't we get all the +gossip from the school papers, and from the fellows we see? Didn't we +know, the very same day, when Johnson broke the Clinton record, that +time he did five eight and a half? No, sir, you're good for second +place in the high, in the big meet, and that means your 'F.' What more +do you want than that? Your first year at the game."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick was silent. Finally he said hesitatingly, "Well, Jim, I know I'm +a fool, but I'd like awfully well to have some show for the +Pentathlon."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam looked at him in amazement. "Well, for Heaven's sake!" he +ejaculated. "You don't want a great deal, do you? With Dave and +Johnson both in the game? Why, where would you fit with them, Dick?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Randall reddened a trifle. "Oh, well, probably I wouldn't," he +returned; "but you see, they've both got their weak points. Dave's +mighty good in the weights--I couldn't touch him there--but then in +the jump he's really poor, and in the hundred and hurdles he's no more +than fair. And Johnson's a great jumper, and a good man at the hundred +and hurdles, but he isn't up in the weights, by a long shot. I don't +mean," he added quickly, "that I think I can beat either of them now; +maybe I never can beat them; but they could be beaten, just the same, +easier than people think. It isn't as if either of them was so good +that you'd know right away it was no use tackling them; and I don't +know about Johnson, but I don't think Dave's going to improve a great +deal on what he did when school began. He's really pretty stupid about +athletics, just the way he is about books. He can't learn the knack of +that high jump, to save himself. No, they could be beaten, all right, +if a fellow could only get good enough."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam considered. "Well, maybe that's so," he doubtfully admitted at +last. "What can you do with the shot, Dick? And the hammer?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm putting the shot around thirty-five," Randall answered; "but the +hammer is my weak spot. I can throw it pretty well from a stand, but I +can't seem to learn the turn. I can beat Ellis sprinting, though, and +I'm pretty sure I can beat him hurdling. But, of course, the hammer +and shot would make all the difference. Still, it doesn't matter, +anyway--the whole thing--as long as Dave can win for the school, only +I figured that since it was so close between him and Johnson, it would +be better for us to have two men training, in place of one. But I +guess it's only a dream, anyway; I've got to learn to throw a hammer +before I can make any sort of show."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Yes, that's so," he answered. "The Pentathlon's an +event where you've got to be pretty good at everything; you can't have +any one weak spot, where you won't score at all, or you might as well +stay out. Still, if you could get the knack with the hammer, I don't +see but what you really might have a chance, after all. I didn't +realize you could put a shot thirty-five feet. But for goodness' sake, +Dick," he concluded, "promise me one thing. If you get to be the best +that ever happened, <i>don't</i> go and get a swelled head; I've seen that +so many times, where a new fellow makes good. It's natural, I suppose, +but awfully painful for his friends."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick colored. "Of course I wouldn't," he replied with some +indignation. "I don't believe there's much danger of my getting +anywhere, in the first place; but even if I ever did, I wouldn't be +such a fool as that. There's no sense in it. Mr. Fenton gave me a +dandy book the other day--the best book I ever read--<i>Rodney Stone</i>. +There's a lot about prize-fighting in it, and it tells about Lord +Nelson, and Beau Brummel, and all about those times. But the +prize-fighting was the best. There's one chapter, <i>The Smith's Last +Fight</i>, why, I could feel the shivers running up and down my back, +just as if I'd been there myself. Oh, it was bully! And it comes in, +in the book, how every one of the champions, first and last, had to +meet his match. 'Youth will be served, my masters,' that's what one +old fellow keeps saying, and you can learn something from a book like +that, now I tell you. You can learn that no matter how good you are, +there's always some one that will beat you and the greatest athlete in +the world has to go down with the rest. But it's all right to try to +win, just the same. You want to turn out a winning crew just as much +as I want to see the track team win, but I don't tell you not to get +swelled headed. Come, now, isn't that right?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam hastened to assent. "Oh, sure," he answered; "I was only +warning you; I didn't really believe there was any danger. 'And +speaking of the crew, Dick, I think, by gracious, we've got more show +than people imagine. Most of the fellows have an idea that Clinton's +going to win, because they made a fast time row this fall, but I'm not +worrying much over that. They only beat us half a length last year, +and we're seconds better now than we were then. This new fellow, +Smith, is a dandy at three, and Jimmy Blagden is twice the man he was +last spring. He was really the weak spot in the crew, but now he's as +good a bow as I'd want to see. So don't think your old track team is +the only pebble; you're going to hear from us, too. We want that cup."</p> + +<p class="normal">For two hours the talk flowed steadily along. Athletics, lessons, the +presidency, the ducks, all taking their turn. And then at last, a +little before noon, they passed the northern limit of the woods; the +lake lay bright and blue before them, and a half mile or so ahead, in +the middle of a sunny clearing, they beheld Cluff's farm.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_4" href="#div2Ref_4">THE SHOOTING TRIP'S UNEXPECTED ENDING</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Evidently visitors in this neighborhood were something of a novelty, +for there was quite a bustle of excitement as they drew up before the +door. Cluff himself came hurrying from the barn to meet them--a sturdy +figure of a man, ruddy and bronzed from constant toiling in the open +air. Colonel, the retriever, barked himself hoarse, trying vainly to +jump up into the buggy, his tail wagging in eager welcome. Cluff's +eldest boy, a tow-headed youngster of ten or eleven, came strolling +around the corner of the house, barefooted, clad in blue overalls, a +straw in his mouth, surveying them with critical interest. The +farmer's pretty wife appeared in the doorway, two of the younger +children peering forth shyly from behind her skirts. No greeting could +have been heartier. Introductions were soon made, and then Cluff +turned to his boy. "Now, you, Nathan," he directed, "take the hoss out +to the barn. And you boys, you come right into the house, and pretty +soon we'll have a bite to eat, and then we'll get started on our +cruise."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam could no longer keep from asking the momentous question. "How +about the ducks?" he ventured.</p> + +<p class="normal">The farmer grinned. "Ducks?" he echoed. "By golly, boys, you certainly +have struck it right. We ain't had a better flight for twenty years. +Lots of marsh ducks, and there's a big raft of redheads and blackheads +been trading to and fro, regular, for the last two weeks, and there +ain't nobody bothered 'em at all. Oh, you'll see plenty of ducks; +there ain't no doubt about that. Only question is," he added +humorously, "whether you can hit 'em or not. I ain't ever seen either +of you boys shoot, so I don't know. What kind of guns you got?"</p> + +<p class="normal">They produced them from the rear of the buggy. Jim's was a twelve +bore, hammerless; Dick's a more ponderous and old-fashioned ten-gage +hammer gun. At the sight of this latter weapon, Cluff nodded in +approval, but looked a little askance at the lighter of the two.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A twelve bore is good for quail and partridges," he remarked, "but +you need a ten gage for ducks. You want a big gun to stop those +fellers. A ten gage is what I use. Guess I'll put you over in the +marsh, Jim. You can do closer range shooting there. And I'll give you +my wading boots, so you can pick up your ducks yourself. 'Tain't deep +over there, and the bottom's good. Then we'll fit your friend on +Pebble P'int, and give him Colonel to fetch his ducks for him and I'll +go over across to t'other side of the lake, and fit there, near the +cove. That way, we'll keep the birds pretty well stirred up, and it'll +make better shooting for every one."</p> + +<p class="normal">An hour later, fortified with a good dinner of turkey and "fixings," +they shoved off from the beach at the easterly end of the lake, Cluff +and Putnam at the oars, Dick seated in the stern, and Colonel curled +comfortably up forward, on the heap of wooden decoys.</p> + +<p class="normal">Parallel with the course they were steering, a long strip of land +extended out into the lake, wide and well-wooded at its base, +narrowing gradually to the westward, and ending in the sloping pebble +beach that had given the point its name. Here Cluff backed the boat in +close to land, and set Dick and Colonel ashore; showed Dick how best +to conceal himself in the blind, half-raised, half-hollowed among the +stones; and then, unwinding the cord wrapped loosely around their +bodies, he threw overboard some twenty or thirty of the wooden redhead +and blackhead decoys, each securely weighted with a lump of iron, and +then, with a wave of farewell, again bent to the oars, and rowed off +down the lake. Dick made himself comfortable in the blind, and +whistled to Colonel, who crept in beside him, and curled up snugly at +his side. Dick heaved a sigh of satisfaction. "Now we're ready for +'em, old boy," he said, stroking the retriever's silky ears, "and I +suppose, if they come in, and I miss 'em, you'll despise me for the +rest of your natural life."</p> + +<p class="normal">Far down the lake, he watched the boat disappearing against the +outline of the western shore. In front of him, his little flock of +decoys dipped gaily to the breeze, looking so lifelike, that +half-closing his eyes, he could almost persuade himself that they were +really alive. He glanced at his watch. It was half-past two, and Cluff +had said that the flight would begin by three. Yet eager as he was, he +did not grudge the time he had to wait. It was pleasant lying there, +with the warm sun shining in his face; pleasant to listen to the wind, +as it swept through the tree-tops, and to hear the ripple of the tiny +waves against the smooth, clean gray of the beach, flecked here and +there with foam.</p> + +<p class="normal">Presently he could see the boat returning, with one figure only at the +oars, and he knew that Putnam must be safely tucked away among the +marshy sedges, at the other end of the lake. Cluff made for the cove, +a short distance to the south, set his decoys, dragged his boat up +into the bushes, and disappeared from sight. All was at last in +readiness. For the hundredth time, Dick looked at his watch. Five +minutes of three. And then, as he glanced up once more toward the +north, he shrank down still lower into the stand. A pair of ducks were +winging their way up the lake, heading almost directly for the spot +where he lay. He watched them eagerly, hardly daring to breathe, and +then, little by little, they swerved, flying closer to the water, and +finally passed, just out of reach, keeping on toward the cove where +Cluff was concealed. All at once, Dick saw them wheel, set their +wings, and sweep gracefully in toward the little flock of decoys. "Why +doesn't he shoot?" he wondered, "Why doesn't he shoot?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A puff of smoke leaped from the bushes; a dull report came down upon +the wind. One of the ducks towered straight into the air; the other +Dick could not see. Then, in a flash, the survivor crumpled up and +dropped headlong, motionless, into the waters of the lake. The second +report came borne across the water. Dick drew a long breath. "By +gracious," he murmured, "he can certainly hit 'em, for fair."</p> + +<p class="normal">The minutes passed. Then, from across the lake he heard, very faint +and far, the sound of Putnam's little twelve gage; and a moment later +he saw three ducks flying toward the cove. Would they decoy again? he +wondered. Would Cluff get another shot? They seemed to be coming +straight on--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whew--whew--whew--whew--whew--" came the whistle of flying wings; on +the instant he turned his head, and his heart jumped at the sight. +Unperceived, a flock of a dozen blackheads had come down along the +point, had swung in to him, and now were fairly hovering over the +decoys. Quick as thought, his gun was at his shoulder--Bang! Bang! +sounded the double report and one duck fell dead to each shot. Dick +felt himself trembling like a leaf at the suddenness of it all. +Colonel, awaiting the word, lay quivering at his feet, his eyes, +glowing like coals, fixed on the ducks, as they lay floating in the +water. "Fetch 'em out, old man," Dick cried, and like a shot, the +retriever was down the beach, breasting the waves, head and tail high +in air, like the sturdy veteran he was. One at a time, he brought them +in, and laid them proudly at Dick's feet; then once more crouched in +the stand, waiting until his chance should come again.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nor did they have long to wait. Now, far off in the northern sky, the +ducks began to come in a steady flight, flying singly, in pairs, and +in flocks of varying size. The marsh ducks, Dick noticed, made, for +the most part, straight down the lake, toward the point where Putnam +lay hidden in the reeds, and from time to time, the faint report of +his companion's gun came to him over the water, though at such a +distance that Dick could only guess at what luck he might be having. +It was different with Cluff. The cove was so near that Dick could keep +a rough account of the number of ducks falling to the farmer's share, +and it was seldom indeed that a flock swung into the cove, without +leaving one or more of their number behind.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick's own aim was scarcely as good. He put a number of good shots to +his credit, stopping a pair of widgeon with one barrel, just as they +drew together in the air; again knocking three redheads from a flock +of five, passing at full speed overhead, without swinging to the +decoys; and twice scoring a clean right and left on blackheads as they +lowered handsomely to the blind. Yet his kills were offset by some +villainous misses, over which he could only shake his head dejectedly, +and turn away in shame from the reproachful glance of the retriever's +eye. Once, indeed, just at sundown, a flock of about fifty redheads +swung in, at just the proper range, just the proper elevation, just +the proper everything; and yet somehow, flurried by the magnitude of +the opportunity, he waited too long, sighted first at one bird, then +at another, and finally fired one ineffectual barrel, just as the last +bird in the flock was getting out of range. For a moment he almost +wept, and then found a crumb of comfort in the thought that only +Colonel was there to see, and that he could not tell of it, even if he +would.</p> + +<p class="normal">All too soon the sun sank behind the hills at the westerly limit of +the lake. Dick left the stand, walked around to relieve his cramped +muscles, and then counted up his bag. Eight blackheads, five redheads, +two widgeon, a black duck and two teal, eighteen in all. He stood +regarding them with pride. Now and again in the dusk he could hear the +whistle of passing wings overhead; once, halfway down the lake, Cluff +and Putnam, returning, fired at some belated flock, and with the +report of their guns two jets of living flame leaped upward against +the dark. A little later and he could hear the sound of their oars; +then presently a dim black shape loomed up ahead and Cluff's friendly +hail sounded through the gloom. "Well, son," he called, "I heard you +dottin' it into 'em. And I saw there was some that didn't get away. +How many did you kill?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eighteen," Dick called back, "and if I'd shot straight I'd have +killed forty. How many did you folks get?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jim got fourteen," answered Cluff, "and I scored up twenty-two. Guess +maybe Mr. Fenton's going to be a mite surprised. I told you we'd do +well. You just wait, now, till I take in these decoys, and we'll come +ashore and get you."</p> + +<p class="normal">They rowed home through the darkness and trudged up the path, +well-laden with their spoils, glad when the lights of the farm-house +gleamed cheerfully across the clearing, welcome enough in any case, +but now suggesting, as well, the thought of supper preparing within. +And what a supper it was! Just comfortably tired and hungry, the boys +made an onslaught on the fare which surprised even their host, +accustomed as he was to the demands of a healthy country appetite. +"Well, I don't know," he remarked at last, "I rather thought I had you +fellows beat on shooting ducks, but when it comes to putting away +turkey I guess you've pretty well squared up the count."</p> + +<p class="normal">By seven o'clock their horse was at the door, and putting in their +guns and their share of the game, they bade good-by to Cluff and his +wife, thanking them again and again for their kindness, and set out on +their homeward way. They were scarcely as talkative, after the first +few miles, as they had been on the way out, but sat in silence, each +living the day over again in his mind. Retrospect had taken the place +of anticipation, and their pleasure, while perhaps fully as great, was +of a kind more tranquil, and less keen. Perhaps, too, the spell of the +night quieted their tongues. The full moon rose high in the heavens, +putting the stars to rout, and lighting the long, straight road ahead +of them almost as clearly as if it had been day. And thus they jogged +steadily along in silence until they had traversed the greater part of +their journey home. Scarcely a sound had disturbed the quiet of the +drive. Now and again they heard the hooting of an owl; once a fox +yapped sharply, and in answer there came a distant, long-drawn chorus +of barks and howls, as if every dog within a dozen miles was giving +answer to the challenge. But of fellow-travelers, either driving or on +foot, they saw no sign until they had come within a mile or so of +town. Then Dick, half lulled to sleep by the steady, monotonous thud +of the mare's feet on the road, started up suddenly, rubbing his eyes, +for ahead of them he saw two shadowy figures, one tall, one short, +striding along the path in the gloom. "Look at those men, Jim," he +said. "I wonder what they're doing out here at this time of night?"</p> + +<p class="normal">As he spoke the figures rounded a bend in the path and disappeared +from sight. And then, before Putnam could answer, all in the same +breath, there arose ahead of them a quick, sharp outcry, the sounds of +a scuffle, and then a shrill and frightened scream, echoing wildly +through the silent forest, "Help! Help!"</p> + +<p class="normal">As quick as thought Putnam leaned forward, snatched the whip from its +socket and brought it down with all his force across the mare's +flanks. Old Rosy bounded forward under the blow and Putnam cried, +"Load up quick, Dick! Load up your gun!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It had been Randall's first thought. Even as Putnam uttered the words +he reached down, drew out the ten bore from under the seat, slipped in +two shells, and sat alert and ready, his body bent a little forward, +his weapon across his knees, as they sped forward, the buggy rocking +and swaying beneath them like a ship in a gale of wind. A moment later +they rounded the curve and Putnam, with a mighty jerk on the reins, +pulled the mare back almost to her haunches to avoid running over the +huddled group of figures fighting in the road. At the same instant +Dick leaped from the buggy and ran forward.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<img border="0" src="images/gotme.png" alt="Just about in time, I guess; +they pretty nearly had me--"></p> + +<p class="normal">A quick glance revealed the situation. One man was being attacked by +three others, while on the outskirts of the group a little boy +hovered, terror-stricken, still crying out for help. The man upon the +defensive was holding his own manfully. He was tall and active, and +made shrewd play with a stout cudgel, apparently his only weapon, +striving constantly to prevent his adversaries from attacking him in +the rear. Yet three to one was heavy odds; knives gleamed in the +moonlight; and while two of the attacking force advanced warily on him +the third was creeping stealthily around behind just as the boys +appeared on the scene. With a shout Dick leaped forward, discharging +his right hand barrel over the heads of the contestants as he ran. The +effect of his shot was well-nigh magical. On the instant the three men +broke and ran, diving into the bushes as if they knew the country +well. The tall man started to follow, fumbling vainly in his pocket as +he did so, then drew up with a suppressed cry of pain and turned to +his rescuers. "Much obliged," he said. "Just about in time, I guess; +they pretty nearly had me--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He broke off suddenly, lurching unsteadily toward the buggy. "Don't +know but what they've done me, now," he muttered.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick could see that his face was deathly pale. "Here, Jim," he called, +"take him and the boy. Drive right in to the hospital. I'll get back, +all right; it isn't far--" He helped the man into the wagon and lifted +the boy in behind. Putnam gave the mare a cut with the whip and the +buggy shot forward toward the town.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_5" href="#div2Ref_5">DUNCAN MCDONALD</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">On a Saturday afternoon, a fortnight after the shooting trip to the +lake, Dick Randall and Jim Putnam, on their way across the yard, came +face to face with Harry Allen and Ned Brewster, sauntering leisurely +over toward the gym. The day, although the month was December, was +warm and clear; the ground lay bare of snow; altogether it was an +afternoon when out of doors seemed far more attractive than in.</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen, halting them, struck an attitude, raised one arm, and started +to declaim. "Whither away, whither away--" he began, and then, as +Brewster planted a well-aimed blow in the small of his back, he came +abruptly to a stop. "Confound you, Ned," he said, "that hurt. Can't +you appreciate good poetry? I never saw such a fellow. Well, if I've +<i>got</i> to descend to vulgar prose, where do you chaps think you're +going, anyway?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Randall laughed, and in a tone of exaggerated deference, answered, +"With your kind permission, Mr. Poet, we are 'whithering away' to the +rustic cottage of Mr. McDonald, leader of strike-breakers, who has now +recovered, and has been out of the hospital for some days. Mr. +McDonald has won his fight; the 'passel o' furriners,' as my friend at +the livery stable calls them, has been put to rout, and Mr. McDonald +wishes to have an opportunity to thank his gallant rescuers in person. +Isn't that what we are, Jim? Gallant rescuers? Of course we are."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Sure," he answered, "of course. At least you are. I +don't know whether I can qualify or not. I was driving the mare, you +know. But still, on the whole, I believe that took more courage than +fighting strikers. Oh, yes, we're heroes, all right, and we're going +down to be properly thanked."</p> + +<p class="normal">Brewster groaned. "My, but you're a chesty pair," he scoffed. "I don't +suppose you'd let two ordinary mortals come along and breathe the same +air with heroes, would you, now? Harry and I were just saying that the +gym doesn't seem to offer much attraction on a day like this."</p> + +<p class="normal">Randall bowed low. "My dear young men," he said, "if my co-hero, Mr. +Putnam, the gentleman on my left, has no objection, we will permit you +to go. I think that the sight of virtue rewarded would be a most +useful lesson to you both. Perhaps Mr. Tennyson here might immortalize +the whole thing in what he thinks is verse."</p> + +<p class="normal">Brewster mournfully shook his head. "Oh, this is awful," he said, +"we'll have to go with them, Harry. I wouldn't trust them alone, now. +They're so puffed up that one good gust of wind would blow them clear +away, and then we'd be minus our best high jumper, and our star +quarter miler. So come on and we'll look after them. It's hard on us, +I know, but it's our duty to the school."</p> + +<p class="normal">They left the yard, walked down past the track, and then struck out +straight across the fields on their long tramp. As they left the +school boundaries behind them Allen turned quickly to Dick. "Well, all +jokes aside," he exclaimed, "your friend's recovered, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," Randall answered, "he's all right again now. They hit him +a pretty good crack on the arm--broke a bone in his wrist, I +believe--and he had a nasty cut in the shoulder, and lost quite a lot +of blood. But they fixed him up at the hospital. It wasn't really +anything serious."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How did the boy come into it?" asked Brewster.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why," returned Randall, "it was quite a story. The boy was a French +Canadian. His mother's dead and he was living alone with his father, +up north of the village. The father was one of the strikers, but I +guess he was rather a chicken-hearted kind of individual, for when the +strike-breakers arrived and things began to look squally he got out of +town, and left the little boy up there in the shanty, all alone. +McDonald was the head man among the strike-breakers, and in the course +of the evening he happened to hear about it and he said right away +that he was going up to get the boy. His friends told him he was a +fool to do it, but he said no one was going to bother him, anyway, and +if they did he guessed he could look out for himself. Well, the +strikers got wind of it and three of them laid for him when he was +coming back with the boy. He said it was the neatest ambush you could +imagine. He was on the watch for them, he thought, and he had a +revolver in his pocket, and yet he walked right into them before he +knew it. And I imagine he was having about all he wanted when we blew +along and pulled off the great rescue scene. So that's all there was +to that."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a good hour later when they finally came in sight of the +cottage, standing by itself, far to the southward of the town. +Everything about the place looked neat and clean. There was no sign of +McDonald, but a little wisp of smoke curled upward from the chimney, +seeming to hang motionless against the still, clear air. Putnam turned +to Randall. "Think we've struck the right place, Dick?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "Seems to answer the description," he replied, and then, +as they started to climb the fence surrounding the field which lay +between them and the cottage he gave a little exclamation of surprise. +"Why, for Heaven's sake," he cried, "talk about your track sports. +What do you think of that, now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The others paused to follow the direction of his gaze. Sure enough, in +the center of the field, between them and the cottage, were a set of +high-jump standards, a take-off board for the broad jump, a shot ring, +and three or four circles for throwing the hammer. They walked hastily +forward, and then stopped, wondering, for, allowing for the necessary +roughness of the field, everything was arranged in excellent style. +Dick examined the ground in front of the standards with a critical +eye, then voiced his approval. "The fellow who fixed up this place," +he said, "knew his business. I believe, on a dry day like this, I +could jump as high here as I could on the field at home. Who on earth +do you suppose is interested in athletics around here? Couldn't be +McDonald, could it, Jim?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam shook his head. "No, of course not," he answered. "A man who +works in a paper mill all day isn't going to bother to build a place +to practise jumping and throwing weights. Some of the boys from the +village, most likely, I suppose."</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked on across the field and knocked at the door of the +cottage. Immediately they heard footsteps within, and a moment +later McDonald himself appeared on the threshold. He was a tall, +active-looking man, splendidly proportioned, with a keen and +intelligent face. A slight pallor, and a little stiffness in the way +he held his left shoulder, were the only signs which he showed of his +recent encounter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come in, come in," he cried, "the whole of you. I'm glad to see you, +boys. I had considerable courage to ask you to come way over here, but +the doctor wouldn't let me walk to the school, and I wanted to see you +before I started back to work, to get a chance to thank you, fair and +square, for that night. I guess, if you hadn't happened along, I +wouldn't be here now. There isn't much I can do, I'm afraid, in +return, only to tell you that I shan't forget it, if I ever have a +chance to pay you back for what you did. And I thought--" He rose, +took from the mantel two small leather cases, oblong in shape, and +held them out to Randall and Putnam, one in either hand. "I thought +maybe you'd like to have these for a kind of souvenir--most young +fellows nowadays are interested in such things--perhaps, though, you +boys aren't--"</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys took the cases from his hand, pressed the spring which opened +them, and the next moment were gazing with delighted surprise at the +heavy gold medals within. At the same instant they read the +inscriptions upon them, and then, both at once, gave a gasp of +surprise, for the name, traced in tiny letters on the gold, below the +word "Championship," was that of the man who had been known, a dozen +years before, through the length and breadth of the country, as the +foremost athlete of his day. Both boys cried out in chorus. "Oh, +golly!" from Putnam; and from Dick, "<i>Duncan</i> McDonald! Why, for +Heaven's sake! We never guessed--"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a moment's silence; McDonald flushing a little under the +gaze of frank hero-worship which the four boys bent on him. And then, +to break the pause, "Yes, I'm Duncan McDonald," he said, "or what's +left of him. Not quite so spry, I guess, as when I won those, but I +still answer to the same name."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was another pause, until Brewster suddenly exclaimed, "Then +that's your athletic field out there. We were wondering whose it could +be."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald smiled. "Athletic field is rather a big name for it," he +answered. "It's a little place I fixed up so that I could go out once +in a while, on a Saturday afternoon, and throw weights, and jump, just +for the sake of old times. Why, do you boys care for that sort of +thing?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do we?" cried Brewster. "Well, I should say we did! You see--" and +for ten minutes he talked steadily, telling the story of the cup, the +Pentathlon, and everything else concerning the rivalries of the +schools. As he finished McDonald nodded. "I see, I see," he said. +"Well, that's a nice sporting situation, isn't it? Perhaps I could +help you boys out a little, after all. When the weather gets better, +along toward spring, if you would send your all-around man--Ellis, did +you say his name is--over here, I might be able to show him something +about his events. I'd be glad to try, anyway."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, that would be great," cried Brewster, "that would help a lot, I +know. And we've another Pentathlon man right here. We think he'll be +almost as good as Ellis by spring. Stand up, Dick, and be counted."</p> + +<p class="normal">Randall laughed. "Don't talk about Pentathlon men," he said, "in +present company. I don't believe Mr. McDonald would see much hope for +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald eyed him critically. "Well, I 'don't know about that," he +said at length. "You've a good build for an all-around man. We all +have to make a start. No one gets to be a champion all at once. By and +by, if you like, we'll walk over to the field; I'll lend you a pair of +spikes and we'll see what you can do. How would you like that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick's face was sufficient answer. "That would be fine," he replied. +"You're mighty kind to offer to do it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, indeed," chimed in Brewster, "it might make a big difference to +our chances. We'd like nothing better;" and then, suddenly changing +the subject, "Mr. McDonald," he asked, "if it isn't an impertinent +question, why did you give up athletics? You're not old yet; you must +be as good as you ever were. And I should think working in a mill +would seem awfully slow, after all the fun you've had."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald smiled. "Well, now, I know how it seems to you boys," he +answered. "I can remember just how it looked to me when I was your +age. But I'll tell you the honest truth. Athletics are a thing you +want to go into for fun, and not for money. If I had my life over +again, as the saying is, I'd stop right short where I turned +professional, and take up some good trade instead. But of course I +couldn't see it then. I was crazy about the game, and I had no money +to speak of, so it seemed to be a choice between quitting athletics, +or turning 'pro.' And I turned. But I've regretted it ever since. It +isn't a sensible profession, you see. It's a job where you're best +when you're young, and with every year that's added to your age, +there's so much of your capital gone. No, professional athletics don't +pay."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys looked only half convinced. "But think," said Allen, "of all +you've done; and all the places you've seen. If I'd won championships +in half a dozen different countries I don't believe I'd swap with any +one."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald smiled again. "Oh, I did have a good time, when I was an +amateur," he replied, "but all the enjoyment that a fellow gets from +looking back on pleasant memories stops right there. After you've +turned pro, and are out for the stuff, the good sporting spirit is +knocked right out of the thing. You think every man who's competing +against you is a robber who's trying to take away your bread and +butter, and that spoils most of the fun, to start with. And then a man +can hardly make a living if he stays right on the square. There's +always a cheap crowd of betting men who keep after a fellow, trying to +get him to come in on some game that isn't quite on the level. They've +pulled off some funny things, too, first and last.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I remember one chap I knew who was a corking good shot-putter. He +joined forces with a couple of betting men and they certainly rigged +up a good plant. It was at a big fair in Canada. The two betting men +dressed as farmers, and then they fixed this fellow up in a blue +smock, and had him drive a cow into the fair. Oh, they staged the +thing fine; and when the shot-putting came off this fellow makes a lot +of talk about what he can do, and picks up the shot, and puts it +around thirty-three or four feet. Then the two betting men make a +holler, and work off a lot of farmer talk about 'that there feller +with the caow'--oh, they do it slick, all right--and that begins to +make fun, and pretty soon there's an argument started, and the two +farmers get excited and fumble around in their pockets and pull out +some old, dirty bills; and finally, there are so many wise guys in the +crowd looking to make an easy dollar, the money's all put up and +covered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The farmers breathe much easier after that--the rest of it is just a +slaughter. The shot man plays the part, though, just to amuse himself. +He gets into the finals--they're putting around thirty-seven feet or +so--and then he makes a great holler about spiked shoes, 'them shoes +with nails in the bottoms of 'em' he says, and at last he pretends to +borrow a pair--which are really his own, that he has given to another +of the gang to keep for him--and he stamps around in those, and spits +on his hands, and goes though a lot of foolishness, and then steps +into the circle and drives her out. Forty-four, ten! And then there's +an awful silence in the crowd among the fellows who've bet their money +against the man with the cow, and they sneak away kind of quietly, and +here and there you'll hear one of them murmur to himself, 'Stung!' And +that's professional athletics for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys had listened breathlessly. "Well," cried Allen, "that was a +pretty dirty trick, all right, and yet," he added with a chuckle, +"there's something funny about it, too. It isn't like taking in +innocent people. The other fellows were out to do the crowd they +thought were farmers, and they got about what was coming to them."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald nodded. "Oh, yes, it's diamond cut diamond," he said. "If you +bet on anything in this world, it's a good idea to get used to being +surprised. But the trouble comes in mixing up a nice, clean game like +athletics with such dirty business as that." He hesitated a moment, +and then went on, "But it's mighty little right I've got to preach. +I've done some things that I regret, and that I'd give a good deal to +have undone, if I could. Because when you're right square up against +it for your next dollar, or maybe your next dime, it beats all how a +man will juggle with his conscience to make a scheme seem right. I'll +tell you what I did once, away out west, if you care to hear."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys' faces, without their eager assent, would have been enough to +tell him that he was speaking to listeners who could talk athletics by +the hour, with never a sign of weariness. And presently he began. +"This happened a good long time ago. It was in the fall of the year. I +was quite a ways from home, and I was discouraged. I'd made +application for a training job for the winter in three different +colleges, and I'd been turned down, for one reason or another, in all +three. It was early in September, just the time for the big fairs, and +though the weather was beautiful, there was a kind of frostiness about +the mornings that made me think of a cold winter coming back home, and +reminded me that I had just two hundred dollars in my clothes, and not +another cent in the whole wide world. It certainly seemed to be up to +me to make some sort of a play, and to make it quick, while I had the +chance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There were three or four pretty good men around at these games, and a +lot of others not so good, but I wasn't particularly afraid of any of +them. I didn't have any great reputation then, to speak of; I'd only +turned pro a little while before; and I'd grown a mustache, and no one +knew me by sight or name. But I had been training all summer, and I +was right at the stage where any athlete, amateur or pro, has the +chance of his life to make a killing; when he knows just how good he +is, and nobody else in the world except himself does know. Well, I +worked things about as well as I could. I went into two good-sized +meets, under the name of Alan Stewart, and never won so much as a +third place. I managed to finish just short of the money in every +event I entered, and then, afterward, I mixed with the betting crowd, +and took pains to do a lot of cheap talking. I told them that when I +was really in form I was the greatest athlete who ever wore a shoe, +and that as soon as I got some money from home I was willing to back +up what I said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I contrived to make the crowd pretty tired. One of the leading +gamblers, a shrewd, wiry little chap, called me down one day in front +of the whole bunch. 'Young man,' he said, 'you talk a good deal, and +it wearies me. Don't you think, if you kept that mouth of yours shut +until you'd earned a dollar to bet on yourself, it would be a good +thing for every one, and make the town a pleasanter place to live in?' +That pleased the boys, but I pretended to get mad over it, and shook +my fist in his face. 'You think,' I said, 'that you can insult me, +because you've got money and I haven't; but you just wait; I've wired +home to San Francisco for some cash and I'll have it for the +Atlasville meet, and then my money'll talk as good as anybody else's.' +That didn't rattle him a mite. 'Well,' he came back, 'if it talks half +as loud as you do they'll know you're betting, away over in China,' +and that pleased the crowd more than ever. So, altogether, I had no +trouble in making a reputation as a conceited young fool--I've +thought sometimes, since then, that wasn't such a strange thing, after +all--and I kept under cover, and lay low for Atlasville.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was a nice affair all right. There was a local weight man, a +fellow named Brown, who was really good; and Harry King, the high +jumper, who was making a regular circuit of the western meets, so +altogether it was a pretty classy field, and I had every chance in the +world to back my good opinion of myself. It was an old game, of +course, but I worked it for all it was worth. As I say, when it's win +out or bust, a man's wits are apt to move quicker than they do other +times. Among my different bluffs, I struck up a great friendship with +a fellow whom I knew to be hand and glove with the betting crowd. I +was sure he'd keep them posted on everything that happened, so I made +him my confidential friend--had him come out to watch me practice, and +told him what a wonder I was, and how I was going to get square with +the betting gang for giving me the laugh, and all that sort of thing. +Only everything that he saw me do, and everything I told him I could +do, was on sort of a mark-down scale. I told him, for instance, that I +was going to put the shot forty feet, and high jump five feet, eight, +and do the other events in proportion, and that I knew the rest of the +men couldn't come near those marks; and all the time I could see how +he was jollying me along, and laughing at me up his sleeve, for he +knew, of course, just what the other chaps <i>could</i> do, on a pinch, and +it was bully fun for him to hear me go on about wiring for money and +betting on myself, and cleaning out the crowd, and such talk as that, +when he supposed, all the time, that separating me from my roll was +just like taking candy from a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So the time went by. Presently my money arrived, or I pretended to +have it arrive--as a matter of fact, I fished it out of my inside +pocket; and then I went out on a hunt for my gambling friends. I +couldn't get quite the odds I wanted--I still had to make a bluff at +being awfully confident of myself--but I did pretty well, on the +whole, for there were so many of them anxious to get a chance at me +that it wasn't a hard job, after all. I put the bulk of the money on +the shot and the high jump--I happened to be right at my best in both +of those events just then--but I had five or ten dollars on about +everything, and some of it at mighty long odds. Well, the day came. I +shall never forget it, one of those perfect autumn days, warm without +being hot, cool without being cold, if that doesn't sound like a fool +way of trying to describe it, and the whole county was at the games. +Oh, what wouldn't I have given for a thousand dollars, to keep company +with my two hundred, but I didn't know a soul in the place, and I +wasn't looking for any free advertising, either. So I let it go at the +two hundred.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've had days before and since when I've felt good, but that +day--well, I was fit to compete for my life. I began the fun with the +hammer and broad jump; I kept it up with the pole vault, the caber and +the fifty-six; and I finished it with the high jump and the shot-put. +I'll never forget the look on my gambler's face when I got down to +work on my first try in the shot, and the man at the other end of the +tape called out, 'Forty-five eight and a half.' It was a study. And +the high jump. They couldn't believe, out that way, that there was a +man on earth who could trim Harry King. And he was jumping good, too. +We kept together up to six feet, but at six, one and a half, he failed +and I got over, on my second try.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I raked in my prize money, and my bets--I'd cleaned up between +seven and eight hundred dollars, all told--and the next day I started +east. I was feeling pretty good till I'd got about ten miles from +town, and then I took the local paper out of my pocket and started to +read the sporting news. Right there was where my good opinion of +myself experienced a shock. For what should I find but a very nice +write-up on Mr. Alan Stewart, describing him as the most promising +young athlete yet seen in the West, and going on to say that as a +matter of local pride, it would be an interesting thing to see Mr. +Stewart matched for a series of events with Mr. Duncan McDonald, the +eastern champion. Just at first I laughed, and then I stopped and +began to think. And the more I thought, the less I seemed to fancy +myself. I never did a thing like that again, and I can tell you, boys, +once more, the pro game in athletics is no good."</p> + +<p class="normal">His audience had sat listening with the keenest interest. There was a +little pause and then Allen spoke. "Well," he said, "it was the same +principle, of course, as the man with the cow. But, somehow, I don't +think that was such a terrible thing to do. You weren't deceiving +innocent people. You were up against a crowd of gamblers who wouldn't +have had any scruples about doing you out of your money, and you +relieved them of theirs, instead. And I think," he added, "that the +part about matching you against McDonald was great. I call that really +humorous."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald nodded assent. "It did have kind of a funny side," he +admitted. "And I don't mean I felt ashamed of myself because I +considered it really a wicked thing to do, because I didn't. But look +here--well, it's hard to express--those two medals I gave you boys +to-day were won when I was an amateur, good and straight. There's no +taint to them. I was in the game then for the fun of it. And I +certainly liked athletics. I don't believe any man who ever lived +liked them better than I did. And so, to get mixed up in the pro +game, well, I felt the way I did once about a man I knew--a big, +fine-looking chap, brave as a lion--who served in the British army. He +got into trouble, no matter how, and disappeared, and I never heard of +him again for years, until a friend of mine ran across him down in +South America--a soldier of fortune, waiting for some little tuppenny +rebellion to come along, to put a job in his way. Well, you know, that +seemed bad to me--I didn't like to hear it--and so, about myself, I +felt as if getting into this betting game, and all that, I was kind of +disgracing my colors--you know what I mean--"</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys nodded in quick sympathy. McDonald rose. "Well, I'm getting +to be a regular old woman," he said apologetically. "My tongue's +running away with me. Let's step over to the field and try a little +athletics, for a change. Here's my outfit, in here."</p> + +<p class="normal">He threw open a closet door, disclosing upon the floor three or four +shots, two hammers, a fifty-six pound weight, several pairs of spiked +shoes--clear evidence that he still retained, as he had said, his +native love of the game. "Now, then," he said, "if one of you will +take a shot, I'll take the light hammer, and Randall here can pick out +a pair of shoes; then we'll be all right to start. Hullo, here's Joe."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he spoke, the door opened, and a little boy of nine or ten, dark +and swarthy, with big, wide-open, black eyes, peered into the room; +then, seeing the visitors, promptly dodged out again. McDonald +laughed. "That's the little fellow you heard yelling for help that +night," he explained. "No one seemed to want him, and his father +hasn't been heard from since, so I've kind of adopted him, for the +present. He's a good little chap, and smart as a steel-trap. But shy +as a squirrel when he sees strangers around."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once arrived at the field, McDonald proceeded to put Dick through his +paces. He watched him high-jump with great approval. "Good, man, +good!" he cried. "You've got an elegant spring, and a very nice style, +besides. I'll have you jumping fine, by next May." But over Dick's +shot-putting he was not so enthusiastic, and at the hammer-throwing he +shook his head. "No, no," he cried, "you haven't got the first +principles. You stand wrong. Your weight is wrong. You swing wrong. +You do everything wrong. Here, let me show you. I wish I dared throw, +myself, but I suppose I'd rip my shoulder open. Now look--"</p> + +<p class="normal">For ten minutes he explained, illustrated, had Dick throw, again and +again. And finally he good-humoredly gave it up. "I can show you," he +said. "But you've thrown the wrong way so long that it's going to be a +job. Let the hammer go, for the next month or two, and when spring +comes we'll go at it. I'll have you so you'll be throwing a hundred +and seventy feet. No reason in the world why you shouldn't. It's like +all the other things. It's knack--knack--knack--that counts. You've +got weight and size enough to throw it, and when I get the double turn +drilled into you we'll surprise some of these boys from the other +schools. You see if we don't."</p> + +<p class="normal">The afternoon shadows were lengthening across the fields as the boys +started on their homeward way. And all through the tramp their tongues +wagged ceaselessly of their new friend, his accomplishments, his +interest, the medals he had given his rescuers, and most of all, how +much his knowledge might mean to them, and to their chances in +carrying off in triumph the coveted cup. Truly, it had been an +eventful day.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_6" href="#div2Ref_6">A QUESTION OF RIGHT AND WRONG</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">An air of gloom hung over the breakfast-room. Search as one might, up +and down the long tables, it would have been hard to find one smiling +countenance. Most of the boys were eating absent-mindedly, as if they +had small relish for their food; their foreheads were wrinkled and +knotted, as if their thoughts were far away. To any one at all +acquainted with school affairs, the trouble was not far to seek. The +first day of the mid tear examinations was at hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">Of all these troubled faces, perhaps Dave Ellis' was the most moody +and depressed. English Thirteen--how he dreaded it! He had sat up +almost all night, in defiance of the rules, stealthily flashing an +electric bull's-eye on his notes, and now, with aching head and jaded +nerves, he was paying the penalty. His brain was in confusion. Names +of books and authors sang themselves over and over in his mind. Now an +absurd, annoying jingle, "Fielding, Smollett, <i>Rich</i>ardson; Fielding +Smollett, <i>Rich</i>ardson;" and then, no sooner had he managed to stop +the monotonous refrain than off it went again, "Dickens, Trollope, +<i>Thack</i>eray; Dickens, Trollope, <i>Thack</i>eray." He groaned, turned +desperately to his cup of coffee, gulped down half of it at once, +scalded himself, and then--it was all of no avail--the tune began once +more. Suddenly, and without warning, he thought of another name, and +to his horror, everything connected with it had gone wholly from his +mind. He glanced despairingly across the table at Allen. "Harry," he +cried, "for goodness' sake, what school did Jane Austen belong to? And +what did she write?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen gazed gravely back at him. "Jane Austen?" he repeated. "Why, she +was the head of the Romantic school. She wrote <i>The Maniac's Deed</i>, +and <i>Tracked to his Doom</i>, and <i>The Bandit's Revenge</i>. She's been +called the founder of the Modern Romance--Old Sleuth, you know, and +Nick Carter--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis had sat listening, his mouth a little open, his eyes troubled, +his whole expression a study in amazed bewilderment. Two or three of +the boys snickered, and at once he came to his senses. "Oh, shut up, +Harry," he cried, "that's an awfully dirty trick--to jolly a fellow +that way. If you felt as rotten as I do--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen relented. "Well, excuse me, Dave," he said, "but you know what +she wrote, just as well as I do, if you'd only stop to think. She was +the great realist. <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>, <i>Sense and Sensibility</i>, all +that list."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis' face cleared. "Oh, yes," he said hastily, "of course. +<i>Mansfield Park</i>, <i>Emma</i>, and some kind of an Abbey; I've got 'em all +in my notes. But what if it had come on the exam? I never would have +remembered it in the world. Confound English Thirteen. I'm going to +flunk; I know I am."</p> + +<p class="normal">With a sigh he returned to his half-finished breakfast. Then, looking +around him, "Pass the salt, Randall," he said, none too pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">On Dick, himself in none too amiable a frame of mind, the tone jarred. +He paused, his hand on the salt-cellar. "Did I hear you say 'please?'" +he questioned.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis' face flushed. "Oh, don't be a fool," he cried, "if you had the +things to bother you that I have, you wouldn't be so particular. +Please--please--please--as many times as you like, only pass it, +anyway."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick complied. "Well, you needn't make such a row about your hard +times," he retorted. "I can't see that you're any worse off than any +one else. These confounded mid-years. They put us all in the same +boat."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis scowled. "Oh, you don't know everything," he grumbled. "I guess +if you--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He pulled himself up sharply, and went on with his breakfast. Five +minutes later, as they filed out of the hall, Allen drew Dick to one +side. "Say," he whispered, "what's our friend Dave got on his mind? +He's awfully down in the mouth lately. Has he ever tried to borrow any +money of you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick looked at his friend in some surprise. "Why, yes," he answered +rather unwillingly, "he has. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't have +any I could spare. Why, has he tried you, too?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen nodded. "Sure," he answered briefly, "and Steve Lindsay, and Ned +Brewster. I guess that's where the trouble is. He must be in some sort +of a money scrape, and that and the mid-years together have got him +feeling pretty blue. Anyway, it looks like that to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Half an hour later the unfortunates who took English Thirteen +assembled in the upper hall. It was Dick's first examination of +importance since he had been in the school, and he felt extremely +nervous. His mouth was dry; his heart was pounding against his ribs. +To divert his mind he looked around the room to see where his friends +were seated. Brewster and Putnam were far away, across the room. +Lindsay was three seats to his right. Dave Ellis was in the next seat, +on his left, and Allen was stationed directly behind Ellis.</p> + +<p class="normal">The nine o'clock bell rang, and Mr. Fenton mounted the platform. "Now, +boys," he said cheerfully, "just a word, before we begin. This paper, +for the period which it covers, is fully as hard as the average of the +college entrance examinations. Yet, as a test, it is a perfectly fair +one, in every way; an honest attempt to find out how much you know of +the course. There are no catch questions, or anything of that sort. So +go to work in good earnest. Read the paper through from beginning to +end before you touch pencil to paper; don't lose your heads; take your +time in thinking out your answers. And if there are questions which +you <i>can't</i> answer, they will at least show you where your weak points +are, before the final examinations next spring."</p> + +<p class="normal">A minute later, the last paper had been distributed. Dick read the +questions through, slowly and deliberately, as the master had +suggested, and then drew a long breath of relief. It was a "fair" +paper, as Mr. Fenton had said; none too easy, but to a boy who had +taken an interest in the course, and had kept up with references and +outside reading, one almost certain to be passed, and to be attacked +with real interest and enthusiasm. Allen and he had prepared for the +examination together, and Dick saw more than one question where his +classmate's devotion to his "old poets," as Jim Putnam called them, +was now to serve him in good stead. For the better part of an hour, he +wrote steadily; and then, with the easier questions out of the way, +used greater deliberation in answering those which remained.</p> + +<p class="normal">Once or twice, as Dick glanced up from his work, he noticed, half +abstractedly, that Ellis, on his left, was sitting always in the same +position, gazing straight before him at his paper, without writing a +word. And then, a little later, as he was about to begin on the +question next the last, a faint cough from his neighbor, three or four +times repeated, attracted his attention. He looked up from his book, +and the next instant a little ball of paper came spinning along the +bench, so well aimed that it stopped just at the left of his +examination book, lying almost within his grasp. Dick hesitated for a +moment, leaned forward a trifle, unfolded the pellet, and read. At the +top, three times underlined, were the words, "Help, please," and then, +underneath, "Who wrote <i>Barry Lyndon?</i> When was Fielding born? Did +Trollope write <i>The Moonstone?</i>" Below each question Ellis had left a +little space for the answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick felt himself flush, almost as if he himself had been detected in +something wrong. With a quick movement, he thrust the telltale slip +into his pocket; then waiting until he caught Ellis' eye, he frowned +slightly, shook his head in decided negative, and bent again to his +task.</p> + +<p class="normal">He finished the paper some twenty minutes before the time had expired, +re-read his answers with care, and made up his mind that no matter +what his mark would be, he had at least done as well as he could. He +sat back in his chair, and looked around him. Most of the boys were +still hard at work. And then, as his glance fell upon his neighbor, he +gave an involuntary start of surprise. Ellis was writing busily, as if +his very life depended on it, yet even as Dick looked, he saw him +pause, and tug gently at his left sleeve with the fingers of his right +hand. Gradually, he pulled a long slip of paper into view, studied it +carefully for a moment, then relaxed his hold, and the paper, +evidently fastened to an elastic of some sort, slid smoothly back +again out of sight. Dick looked quickly away, a feeling of disgust +overcoming him. He had heard of such things, but this was the first +time he had seen actual cheating taking place before his very eyes. +Ten minutes later the bell clanged, papers and books were gathered up, +and the test was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">The mid-years lasted for a week; at the end of that time the results +were made known. Dick did fully as well as he had expected. Out of a +total of seven subjects, he had one A, three B's, two C's, and one D. +Harry Allen topped the list with five A's and two B's; Brewster did a +trifle better than Dick; Putnam and Lindsay not quite so well. But the +surprise of the whole affair was Ellis' good showing. It was nothing +brilliant, compared with the records of the really fine scholars in +the class, but he did far better than any one had supposed he would +do, and in those subjects where memory played an important part, his +marks were fully equal to the average. Thus all doubts of his being +eligible for the spring games were removed, and Brewster, as captain +of the track team, heaved a sigh of relief that this anxiety was off +his mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick found himself unable to share in Brewster's pleasure. The thought +of that strip of paper, and those cautious fingers pulling it gently +downward, rankled in his mind. He wondered what a fellow ought to do +in such a case. He ought not to tell tales, of course; that wasn't +right; and yet--it was such a downright, dirty trick on Ellis' +part--such a sailing under false colors--</p> + +<p class="normal">And then, one morning, he found his perplexities increased. In the +excitement of the mid-years, he had forgotten another matter of +importance, and now, on the bulletin in the hall, appeared the notice +that in a fortnight the election for class president would be held. +Only two names were put in nomination--those of Dave Ellis and of +Harry Allen--and suddenly Dick felt his doubts increase. Ought he to +keep silence, after all? It was a mean thing to tell on a fellow--he +had always known that--but on the other hand, where could you draw the +line. If he saw a man commit a murder, he would certainly tell the +authorities. There was a duty in both directions, it seemed. And so he +thought and thought, until finally, on one rainy afternoon, he +gathered his four most intimate friends--Allen, Putnam, Brewster and +Lindsay--together in his room, and proceeded to unburden his mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, you chaps," he began, "I want your advice. This is my +first year in the school, and the last thing I want to do is to butt +in, or to make a nuisance of myself. But I'm in a mix-up about this +business of class president, and I want to put the thing up to you +fellows, and see what you think of it. Of course, I'm with Harry, +as you all know, just as the rest of you are, but we're not the +school--I'm afraid, this time, we're not even a majority of the +school--and I suppose the chances are all in favor of Dave's getting +it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen nodded. "Sure thing," he replied, "I think I know the sentiment +pretty well. There are forty-two fellows in the class, who are +entitled to vote, and I should say that just about twenty-five were +for Dave, and seventeen were for me. Of course you never can tell, for +sure, until the last vote is counted, but I guess that's a pretty fair +estimate. What do you fellows say?" and he turned to Putnam, Lindsay +and Brewster.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's about it, I think," Putnam answered, and the others nodded +assent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, then," Dick continued, "here's the question. In the first +place, Dave Ellis isn't a fit fellow to be president of the class. I +know it, for a fact. A class president is supposed to represent the +school; it's really the highest honor the class can give; and the +fellow we elect, whatever else people might find to say about him, +ought at least to be square. Now, I'll admit that I'm prejudiced +against Dave, because he rather rubbed it into me when I came here +first, and it didn't make things any too agreeable, for a while. But +that's got nothing at all to do with what I'm telling you now. This is +something more than prejudice. Dave isn't on the square, and I can +prove it. He cheated in the English Thirteen exam."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a chorus of surprised ejaculation. Allen alone said nothing. +And then Brewster asked, "How, Dick? Are you sure? That's a pretty +serious charge to make against a fellow, if you can't back it up."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Dick seemed in nowise disposed to retract what he had said. "Oh, I +can back it up, all right," he answered. "First, he threw me a note, +asking for help. And after that I saw him pull a paper out of his +sleeve--you know the kind I mean, the ones they fasten to an +elastic--and he was cribbing his answers from that. I saw him as +plainly as I ever saw anything in my life. I'd swear to it, on my +oath. There's no doubt of it at all."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a long silence. Then Dick spoke again. "Well," he asked, +"what ought I to do? What ought we to do, rather? Because it's up to +you fellows now, just as much as it is to me. You represent the +element that stands right back of Mr. Fenton here in the school. +What's the best way to act? We can't go to Mr. Fenton, of course; that +would be a kid trick; worse than what Dave did. But oughtn't we to +tell the fellows? Isn't it only fair, if they want to elect him +president, to let them know first what kind of fellow they're picking +out to represent the class? Or ought we to go to Dave himself, before +we do anything else, and tell him that if he'll withdraw from the +election, and promise not to cheat again, we'll keep our mouths shut +on the whole thing? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot. People +always tell you to do what's right, but they forget to explain how +you're going to know what is right, and what's wrong. So I've come to +you fellows to help me out. Now what do you say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a little silence before Brewster spoke out impulsively, "I +vote we tell the whole school. It isn't right that a thing like that +should happen, and a fellow get away with it. It's a downright dirty +trick, I think. I move we tell the whole crowd, right away."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam shook his head. "No," he objected; "that would be foolish. It's +the worst mistake you can make to blaze ahead too quick, before you've +figured out the things that may happen. Suppose Dave denies the whole +business, what then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick's cheeks flamed. "Why, Jim," he cried; "you don't think I'm +lying, do you? You don't mean to say you doubt my word?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam smiled. "Of course I don't, Dick," he answered. "I know you too +well for that. But I was thinking of what I've heard my father say, +when he's been talking about his law cases. 'Put yourself in the other +fellow's place,' is his great expression, 'and see what you'd do then. +That will help you in working up your side of the argument.' And +that's a good idea, isn't it, Harry?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen nodded. "Sure," he replied; "they do something like that in +literary criticism. 'Playing the devil's advocate,' they call it. +Which means thinking up all the possible objections any one might +make, and then going ahead and demolishing them. Yes, that's a good +principle to go on."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, then," continued Putnam, "here's what occurs to me. Suppose we +do as Ned says, and spread the story through the school. Some one of +Dave's friends will come running to him with it right away, and what's +Dave going to do then? What's to prevent him from saying that Dick is +lying--that Dick's a friend of Harry's, and that this is all a dodge +to get Harry elected? And if he does do that, then how does Dick +stand? Dave's got an awful following here in the school, and there are +some of the fellows, I'm afraid, who wouldn't care a great deal +whether he cheated or not. They might consider it was rather a brave +thing to try a dodge like that, and carry it through without the +master seeing him. And even the decent fellows, who wouldn't stand for +such a thing--what are they going to believe? It's Dave's word against +Dick's and if they believe Dave, it puts Dick in an awful hole. +They're going to say, 'Here's a new boy in the school, who's trying to +make all the trouble he can. And he picks out the best athlete we've +got, and tries to blackmail him. That's an awfully mean trick, and +we'll see that we make the school too hot to hold him?' What do you +say to that, Dick?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick looked a little staggered. "Well, I hadn't thought of anything +like that," he reluctantly admitted. "I hated to mix up in this thing +anyway; yet it didn't seem right to let it slide, without saying a +word. And if you go through the world on your principle, Jim, you'll +always be keeping quiet, unless you're sure you can prove what you set +out to prove. And there are times, I should think, even when you know +you're going down to defeat, where you would have to speak out, just +because it's the right thing to do. At least, I should think that was +what Mr. Fenton would say."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lindsay, usually a boy of the fewest possible words, spoke up quickly. +"You're right, Dick," he said. "This is too important a thing for us +to let go. Whether you get into trouble or not, isn't the point. It's +a question of our duty to the school. Let's get Dave in here, now, and +see how he acts. He may get scared, and own up to everything. If he +doesn't, then we can make up our minds what we ought to do next. What +say, Harry?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen had been unusually silent, although listening with the keenest +interest to all that was being said. Now he nodded. "I think that's a +good idea," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lindsay rose. "Any objection?" he asked of the room in general. No one +answered, and he went out, and a few moments later returned, bringing +Ellis with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">If the boy who was about to be accused had any suspicions of what was +going to take place, he concealed them admirably. "Hullo, fellows," he +said; "what's this gathering for? Track team, or crew?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Lindsay, acting as spokesman, wasted no time in beating about the +bush. "It's neither, Dave," he said at once, "it's a meeting on the +class presidency."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis smiled. "Rather an Allen crowd, I guess," he remarked. "I don't +see what you want <i>me</i> for. I'm going to vote for myself, I'll tell +you that now. So Harry needn't waste any politeness on me; he can vote +for himself, too, and then we'll be square."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had thrown himself back into a chair, perhaps a little too +elaborately at his ease. Lindsay spoke again. "We're not here in +Harry's interests, Dave," he said quietly, "we're here in the +interests of the school. We believe you have the better chance of +being elected president, but there's a matter that we should like to +have explained. We want the president of the class to be a fellow +above suspicion in every way, and we want to ask you whether it is +true that you were seen to cheat in the examination in English +Thirteen?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis looked at him with well-assumed indignation. "I? Cheat?" he +echoed; "well, I guess not. Who the devil dares to say such a thing as +that about me? I'll punch his head for him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lindsay turned to Randall. "Fire away, Dick," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick did not flinch, but looked Ellis squarely in the eye. "I was +telling these fellows, Dave," he said, "that I didn't think you were +the man to represent the class as president. I've told no one else, +but I've told them, in confidence, what you did in the English +Thirteen exam. That you first asked me for help, and then cribbed from +that paper up your sleeve--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He got no further. Ellis leaped to his feet, his face white with +wrath. "You liar!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick in his turn started from his seat, his face as angry as Ellis' +own. "Hold on," he cried sternly. "I don't like that word, Dave. You'd +better take that back."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis sneered. "Not by a long shot," he answered, "that's what you +are. And how you've got the nerve to start a story like that--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick drew a little piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to +the boy he was accusing. "You didn't pass me that in the exam?" he +demanded.</p> + + +<p class="center"><img src="images/wrath.png" alt="Ellis leaped to his feet, with wrath"></p> + + +<p class="normal">Ellis' denial was almost too ready. "Of course I didn't," he flung +back, "that's not my writing. I never saw the paper before. I never +cheated in an examination in my life. You're playing dirty politics, +Randall, to help Allen; that's what you're doing. But you can go +ahead. It won't hurt me. I'll tell the story myself, to every boy in +the school, and they can judge who's lying, and who isn't. You'd like +to see me in a scrape, I guess, so you might have a chance at the +Pentathlon, with me out of it. Oh, I'm on to you and your schemes--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was storming on, half beside himself with rage. But as he uttered +the words, Allen looked quickly up at him, as if taking a sudden +resolve. "Just a minute, Dave," he said. His tone was quiet, but there +was that in his voice which made Ellis pause, half against his will.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well?" he queried, "what have you got to say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen turned to the others. "Fellows," he said, "this is a dirty +business--the whole thing. It makes me sick and disgusted to be mixed +up in it. But I've no choice now. I've kept my mouth shut, because, +since I was running against Dave, it put me in rather a queer +position, and I thought I'd better not speak. But now that Randall's +good name is brought into it, I'll tell you what I know. Dave did +cheat. I sat behind him in English Thirteen. I saw him write the note +and pass it. I saw him use the paper up his sleeve. And he worked the +same trick again in History Four." He swung around to Ellis. "Dave," +he said, "you have no right to be running for president, and you know +it. You'll withdraw right away, or I'll give this story to the school +myself. And one thing more. You're trying to make Dick Randall out a +liar. Dick's gone into this thing against his will and risked a chance +of getting into trouble, for the sake of the school. It was a plucky +thing for a fellow to do, and if you breathe one little word to +slander him, I'll do something that I wouldn't do in any other case +for anything under the sun. I'll go straight to Mr. Fenton with the +whole story. And you can take your chance on an investigation. Now +then, will you pull out, or not? You can have your choice."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a tense silence. An utter change had come over Ellis' face. +He had the look of an animal hunted down. "You're mistaken, Harry," he +said at last, with an effort at composure, "you're mistaken, I assure +you. You don't understand--"</p> + +<p class="normal">His stammering sentences died away on his lips. No one spoke, and +presently Ellis seemed to make up his mind. He raised his head with an +expression of resolve. "Look here, you fellows," he said, "I don't +want to make any trouble over this thing. But there's something else +comes into it, that you don't know. I'm in a row over some money +I--lost--and if I don't get it pretty soon, I'm going to be in an +awful hole. I might have to leave school," he added craftily, "and +then I'd be out of it for the Pentathlon. Let's compromise this, all +around. I'll pull out of the presidency, and give Harry a walk-over, +and we'll let the business of the English exam drop. It will be the +best for every one. If I did anything I ought not to have done, I'm +sorry. I was doing it for the school, so that I wouldn't be cut out of +the spring athletics. Why don't you fellows, among you, raise me two +hundred dollars, and we'll let things go on, just as if nothing had +happened at all."</p> + +<p class="normal">The very effrontery of the proposal almost took away his listeners' +breath. Finally Allen spoke. "No, Dave," he said, "that isn't quite +the way we do things here. We don't buy our athletes. We want the cup, +all right, but we want it on the square. And if you cheated for the +sake of the school, I'll only say that's the most remarkable way of +showing school spirit that I've heard of yet. No, you will have to +withdraw from the presidency, and give us your word never to cheat +again. And if you'll do that, we'll let this whole matter rest. I +don't know whether that's the fairest way or not, but I think it is. +If you're not up for office, it's a private matter then, and one that +there's no need of publishing around. So it's up to you, Dave. Quit or +not. We'll meet you half-way, whatever you do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis scowled, and bit his lip. He thought for some moments in +silence, then turned to go. "I'll let you know in two days," he said. +"You keep quiet till then, and so will I."</p> + +<p class="normal">He took his departure, leaving the group behind him busy with +speculations as to what he meant to do. Yet no one even dreamed what +his final decision would really be, and it came to them with a shock +of surprise and disgust. For two days later, they learned that Dave +Ellis had suddenly left school, and a week after that, Jim Putnam +burst quickly into Dick's room, where he and Allen sat studying. +"Golly, fellows," he shouted; "what do you think now? Dave's got it in +for us, all right. He's entered Hopevale, and I'll bet a dollar it +costs us the cup."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_7" href="#div2Ref_7">A BATTLE ROYAL</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was four o'clock on a bright, warm afternoon in early May. Mr. +Fenton, walking briskly toward the athletic field, stopped for a +moment at the entrance, to gaze at the scene before him. In the +ball-field, beyond the grandstand, the nine was playing a practice +game against the subs. The tennis courts were filled, and the track +and field men were putting the finishing touches to their afternoon's +work. Ned Brewster, captain of the track team, was standing by the +side of the high-jump path, and Mr. Fenton, as he crossed the field, +stopped for a moment to talk with him. "Well, Ned," he queried, "what +are our prospects? Will we draw first blood in the track meet next +week, or will Ellis' desertion cost us the games?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Brewster hesitated. "I don't really know, sir," he said at last. "A +week ago, I should have said that everything looked fine, but now I'm +not so sure. You see, Greenough's injury makes a big difference. I +think he would have been certain of the hundred, and would have taken +second in the two twenty, besides, but pulling that tendon puts him +out of everything. The doctor says he can't possibly go into the meet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And then there's Dick Randall--I was never more disappointed in a +fellow in my life. A fortnight ago, he was coming fast--his friend +McDonald was simply doing wonders with him. Why, one Saturday +afternoon I went over there with Dick, and he was certainly in great +form. I measured everything myself, or really I could hardly have +believed it. He did five seven in the high, and he cleared the bar by +an inch and a half at that. He did twenty feet ten and a half in the +broad, on his first try, and McDonald told him not to jump any more-- +that that was good enough. And then he took his six tries with the +shot, and did thirty-eight three. McDonald told me that day that if he +could bring Dick up a little in the hammer, and if he'd get a little +faster at the hundred and the hurdles, that he'd give Ellis and +Johnson the fight of their lives in the Pentathlon. And then, just +when all he needed was a little improvement, instead of going ahead, +he started to go back, and he's been growing steadily worse ever +since. It doesn't seem to be his fault, you know; he feels more +disappointed about it than any one. He never sports at all, and he's +the most conscientious worker on the squad. But there's something +wrong. He isn't nearly so good as he was two weeks ago. You just watch +him now. The bar is only five feet four."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton looked on attentively, as Randall prepared to jump. There +seemed to be a nervous hesitancy about his style. He started twice on +his run before he could seem to catch step correctly, and even then, +he ran more slowly than usual, as if he lacked confidence in himself, +and rose awkwardly at the bar, without much of his former spring. Yet +even with these faults, the attempt was none the less a good one. His +body was higher than the stick, and he seemed, indeed, just on the +point of clearing it in safety; but the necessary momentum was +lacking, and despite his efforts, he fell heavily on the bar, knocking +it off for the third successive time. He walked dejectedly out of the +pit, and stood gazing at the uprights with wrinkled brow, as if +striving to figure out the reason for his failure. Mr. Fenton walked +over to him. "That was a good try, Randall," he said cheerfully. "A +little more speed, and you would have had it. How are you feeling +these days? Pretty well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick paused a moment before answering. "Well, to tell the truth, sir," +he said at last, "I don't know what's got into me lately. I was doing +quite well, two weeks ago, but now I'm no good at all. My weight is +all right, and I feel all right, but I don't seem to have any ginger +about me. Why, a month back I should have laughed at five feet four; I +should have called that just a practice jump; and now today I try my +hardest, and miss it three times running. And I've gone back in the +broad jump--I can't do twenty feet now--and I'm not up to standard +with the shot, either. The hammer is the only thing I've improved +with, and I was so bad with that I couldn't very well have grown +worse. Taking everything together, I'm really doing about as badly as +a fellow could; and I don't see what the trouble is. I never practised +so hard; I never thought so much about my events; I'm really +discouraged."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton glanced him over critically, from head to foot. He seemed +worried and anxious, and while he appeared to be well up in weight, +and while his muscular development was better than ever, his color was +none too good, and his face looked somewhat drawn. Mr. Fenton gave a +little nod, like a doctor who diagnoses a patient's condition. "Well, +you look pretty well," he said, "but of course you've been doing quite +a lot of work. I should say, in the trainers' language, that you were +a little 'fine.' Why don't you take a rest, a complete rest, from now +until the day of the games?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head, without intending it, a little impatiently. "Oh, +I couldn't, Mr. Fenton," he answered. "There's so much to learn yet, +if I go into the Pentathlon. There's a knack I'm trying to work out in +the broad jump, and that confounded hammer does bother me so. I think +and think about it, and finally I imagine I've got the idea, and then +I go out the next day and practise, and find I'm worse than ever. Why, +one night, I even dreamed about it. I thought I threw it two hundred +and fifty feet, and broke the world's record. Oh, but it felt fine. I +was taking three turns, and spinning around like a top, and when I let +it go, it went sailing off as high as the roof of a house. So the next +morning I tried to remember how I stood in my dream, and how I swung +the hammer, and everything, and then I went out in the afternoon and +tried to put it all into practice and what do you suppose? I fouled +about a mile, and got all tangled up in my feet, and fell down, and +pretty nearly broke my neck; so I've lost all faith in dreams."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton smiled. "I don't blame you," he answered, then added, "How +have you been sleeping this last week or two, Randall? As well as when +you came here first?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick hesitated; then a little unwillingly replied, "Why, I haven't +been sleeping so awfully well. It seems to take me a long time to get +to sleep, to start with, and then I usually have some crazy nightmare +or other about athletics, and then I wake up with a jump about three +or four in the morning, and can't get to sleep again. But I feel all +right, just the same. I'm not sick, sir."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton laughed. "No, you look fairly rugged to me," he answered; +"but take a rest from now on, Randall. Don't do any more work +to-night; go in and get your rub; and forget all about athletics for a +while."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded, picked up his sweater, and jogged off across the field. +The master walked back to where Brewster was standing. "Well, Ned, +there's no mystery about your Pentathlon man," he said, "it's as clear +as day. He's going 'stale,' as the trainers say; he's been doing too +much work. I don't mean too much for his health. That's all right, or +the doctor would have notified me. But Randall's a fellow with nerves, +in spite of his strength. And he's lost just enough energy, with all +the work he's been doing, to take the edge off his speed and his +spring. You must tell him to quit, right where he is; to lock up his +spikes and his athletic clothes; and not to come near the track again +until the day of the games. If he will do that, you will have him +ready for the meet, in as good shape as he ever was in his life. I +feel sure of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening Brewster went over the whole situation with Dick, and +gave him his orders, to be carried out to the very letter. Dick +promised to obey, and yet to keep from worrying was no easy task. The +whole school could talk of nothing but the coming games. Every one was +going around, with paper and pencil, figuring the final distribution +of the points. There were twelve events altogether; first place +counted five, second two, and third one; a total of ninety-six. School +spirit ran high, and no one figured in any other way except to give +Fenton the victory. Forty points was the favorite figure, and about +thirty each for Hopevale and Clinton. It was an interesting, if rather +unprofitable employment. And for Dick to keep out of the prevailing +excitement was next to impossible, especially when his schoolmates +would say, "We've got you figured for second in the high, Dick," or +"Do you think you can get third in the broad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Again, the program of resting, and keeping away from the field, +worried him more than anything else. Accustomed as he was to his daily +exercise, his muscles, after the first day's lay-off, began to +stiffen, and lacking the experience to know that this was something +which would disappear with his rub-down, and his first trial jump in +the competition, Dick fretted over it as if it had been some serious +muscle strain. Yet somehow, the week went by, and the day of the games +came at last.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a perfect afternoon, just pleasantly warm and still, with no +wind to trouble the distance runners on either stretch. The games were +scheduled for two o'clock. By one, the Clinton athletes had arrived; +shortly afterward, the Hopevale team put in an appearance; and by +half-past one the grandstand and the bleachers were filled, and the +boys were beginning to limber up on the track. Dave Ellis, with the +blue "H" of Hopevale on his chest, seemed in nowise embarrassed at +thus revisiting his old quarters, but came out to practise with the +rest, and put the shot well over thirty-eight feet in a preliminary +try. Shortly afterward, Dick had his first glimpse of Johnson, the +mainstay of the Clinton team. He was a good-looking, pleasant-faced +boy, who went about his "warming-up" so quietly and unobtrusively that +one would scarcely have selected him, at first, for an athlete of +prominence. Yet Dick, watching the play of his long, smooth muscles, +and noting how easily and springily he moved up and down the track, +knew that he was looking at a first-class man.</p> + +<p class="normal">Promptly, at five minutes before two, the clerk of the course came +hurrying across the field. "All out for the hundred," he called, +"hundred yards, last call. All out for the hundred." The games had +begun at last.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick took his seat on the balcony of the dressing-room, and gazed out +at the animated scene. All at once it occurred to him that if he were +only a spectator, and not a contestant, he should be thoroughly +enjoying the whole affair. It was an inspiriting sight; the level +green of the field, the darker oval of the track, the grandstand, +bright with color; and now, walking slowly over toward the start of +the hundred, the six contestants, two from each team, each bound to do +his utmost to score for his school. He could distinguish Steve +Lindsay; the tall figure of Harris of Clinton, the favorite, +conspicuous in his striped jersey of red and black; and the figures of +the two Hopevale men, of whom little was known, with the light blue +"H. A. A." on their shirts. There was the usual warming-up, a word or +two of caution from the starter, and then his whistle blew loud and +shrill. There came an answering wave of a handkerchief from the spot +where the judges and timers stood grouped around the tape.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the hush that followed, Dick could hear the starter's voice sound +sharp and clear across the field. "On your marks!" The six figures +crouched. "Get set!" They bent forward, tense, expectant. And then a +puff of smoke from the starter's upraised pistol--"Bang!" and they +were off, to a perfect start. Dick's hands clenched; his eyes strained +to distinguish the entries from his school. For a moment the crowd was +silent, and then, as the first thirty or forty yards were covered, and +the runners began to separate and draw apart, there arose a tumult of +shouts and cheers, above it all the cries from Fenton, "Lindsay! +Lindsay! Lindsay!" It was true enough. Lindsay was ahead, a foot or +two in front of Adams of Hopevale, with Harris several yards behind. +At fifty yards it was the same--and at sixty--and then all at once +Harris seemed to settle to his stride. He drew up on the leaders with +a rush, at eighty yards was on even terms, and then, forging steadily +ahead, crossed the line a safe winner, with Lindsay just beating out +Adams for second place. In a moment, Dick could hear the scorer's +stentorian tones echoing over the field. "Hundred yards dash--won by +Harris of Clinton; Lindsay of Fenton, second; Adams of Hopevale, +third; time, ten and two-fifths seconds." And then, on the big score +board at the end of the field, the huge figures were hoisted that all +might see.</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +5 2 1</p> + + +<p class="normal">With the cheers of the Clinton delegation still ringing out on the +air, the runners came jogging back to the dressing-rooms, and the next +event--the hundred and twenty yards high hurdles--was called. Already +the men employed on the field were setting out the obstacles on the +track. There were but four entries, for Barker and Jones, the Hopevale +hurdlers, so far outclassed their field that Arnold of Clinton, and +Taylor of Fenton had been entered with no hope of first or second, but +merely to battle for the single point which would reward third place. +Yet the race displayed the uncertainties of athletics in general, and +of the high hurdles in particular; for while Barker, the winner of the +previous year, took the lead at the start, and was never headed, +Jones, his team-mate, loafing comfortably along in second place, got +in too close at the sixth hurdle, struck it heavily, staggered a few +steps, and plunged headlong into the seventh, bringing it down with +him to the ground. After this disaster, there was no hope of a +recovery, and Arnold took second place, and Taylor third, making +unexpected and welcome additions to the winnings of their schools. The +figures on the blackboard were shifted, and Clinton's lead was +reduced, while the Fenton score looked somewhat small beside the other +two.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +7 3 6</p> + +<p class="normal">So ran the totals, and even as Dick studied them, the clerk's cry +sounded quick and sharp, "All out for the quarter; all out for the +mile; all out for the pole vault, hammer throw, broad jump." Dick +started. For the moment he had almost forgotten that he was to compete +at all. Quickly coming to himself, he rose, picked up his spikes, and +made his way down-stairs and across the field. Just ahead of him were +Harry Allen, Jack Morrison and Jim Egan, the three Fenton entries in +the quarter, and Brewster himself, rated as sure winner of the mile, +came jogging up behind him, and fell into step by his side. "How's +your courage, old man?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, pretty fair," Dick answered, "we haven't made much of a start, +though."</p> + +<p class="normal">Brewster shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, never mind the hundred and the +hurdles," he said, "we didn't count on much there, anyway. But we'll +score big in the quarter, I think; and if I don't go to pieces in the +mile, we might get something there, too. You tear down at that old +take-off, now, Dick, and we'll rip those A's off your shirt for you +to-night. You get us a point, anyway."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll do my best," Dick replied, and an instant later he was answering +to his name, with the half-dozen other contestants in the event. +Stripping off his sweater, he took an easy practice jump, and as he +did so, a great load seemed lifted from his mind. He knew that he had +recovered his spring, and the excitement of the competition made him +feel that he could beat anything he had done in practice. "I guess Mr. +Fenton knew what was the matter with me, all right," he murmured to +himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">His name was the first called. He made his mark at exactly fifty feet +from the take-off, laid the sleeve of his sweater at the edge of the +path, and walked back another forty feet or so for his preliminary +run. He tried to remember all the instructions that McDonald had given +him, but in his excitement, he could think of little more than of +hitting his mark correctly, and of getting a good lift into the air. +"All ready," cried the scorer, "Randall, Fenton, first try."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick stood erect, drew a long breath, and then, with muscles +tense and rigid, began his run. One--two--three--four--five--six-- +seven--eight--came his preliminary strides, and he sensed, rather than +knew, that he had brought the toe of his jumping shoe just even with +the sweater's crimson sleeve. And then, for the last eight strides, he +ran with every ounce of energy he possessed; bang, he hit the take-off +fair and square, and landed far out in the pit, his knees thrown well +in front of him. There was a ripple of applause from the grandstand, +and he knew that the jump must at least have been a fair one. He stood +waiting at the side of the pit, while the measurers did their work. +Then the man at the farther end of the tape straightened up, +announcing, "Twenty feet, six and one-quarter."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick jogged back, well satisfied. The distance was nearly as good as +his best, and he felt confident of qualifying for the finals. Two or +three of the other contestants jumped in the neighborhood of nineteen +feet, and then Harding of Hopevale jumped twenty feet, three. No one +else equalled Dick's mark until Johnson's name was called. The Clinton +athlete stood waiting for the dirt to be raked over in the pit, and +Dick found himself, half against his will, admiring the Pentathlon +man's graceful, clean-cut build. He was an inch or two taller than +Dick, not so broad-shouldered or so muscular, but with that +indefinable stamp of the athlete, which for want of a better word, we +characterize as "rangy." As he started for his jump, Dick watched him +critically, noticing that he ran hard, with his knees lifted well into +the air, and then, as Johnson struck the take-off, and leaped, he gave +a little gasp of surprise. Here was form, indeed, beside which the +efforts of the others appeared as nothing. This was no mere run from +the board; it was a real jump. Johnson shot into the air, feet in +front of him, sailing along like a cannon ball. Instantly, the +grandstand burst into a shout of applause. From the Clinton section +came a continued burst of organized cheering, and the announcer threw +an extra impressiveness into his voice as he shouted, "Mr. Johnson +jumps twenty-one, three and three-quarters."</p> + +<p class="normal">Johnson came walking back, a smile on his face. Dick accosted him +good-naturedly. "That was a dandy," he said. "You can have this event, +I guess. You won't have to jump again."</p> + +<p class="normal">Johnson took the other's speech in good part. "Oh, I don't know," he +answered, sitting down at Dick's side and drawing his bath-robe around +his knees. "You can't ever tell till the last man's had his last try." +Then, after a little pause, he added, "Are you going to try the +Pentathlon, Randall?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "I think so," he answered, "though I don't expect to do +much against you and Ellis. Still, I guess I'll give it a try, anyway. +There doesn't seem to be any one else to represent the school. But if +I can't win," he added, "I tell you, right now, I hope you give Ellis +the worst licking he ever had in his life."</p> + +<p class="normal">Johnson nodded. "I know just how you fellows feel about Ellis," he +said, "and I don't blame you a bit. A chap that will leave his school +in the lurch like that can't have much of the right stuff in him. But +I don't know about licking him. He's awfully good in the weights. And +the Hopevale crowd say that since he came there he's improved a lot, +too. I don't know whether it's so or not, but they claim he's beating +forty feet with the shot, right along. And that he's throwing the +hammer a hundred and sixty. But you can't tell. They may be trying to +scare us, so we'll think it's no use to enter, even. Never can tell +beforehand--that's my motto in athletics."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded, and was about to answer, when the scorer called, +"Randall, second try." Dick rose, and was making ready for his run, +when the scorer waved him back. "No, don't jump, Mr. Randall," he +cried. "Sit down again, please. Wait till they run the quarter mile."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded, and complied. Every eye in the field was turned on the +start of the quarter. The nine athletes stretched straight across the +track. Dick saw that Morrison of his own school was on the pole; that +Harry Allen was sixth in line, and that their third entry, Egan, was +on the extreme outside. "Bang!" went the pistol, and the runners were +off, in a mad burst for the lead to the first turn. There was little +to be distinguished for a moment or two, and then, as they rounded and +squared away for the back stretch, Dick's heart gave a great leap of +excitement. Morrison had held his lead, Egan had cut clean across in +front of the others, and was second; only Allen lay back, in seventh +position, apparently "pocketed" and unable to extricate himself. Up +the stretch they swung, in steady, rhythmical procession; from across +the field one would have said that they scarcely moved; so greatly did +the added distance deceive the eye. Once a Hopevale runner spurted and +tried to pass the leaders, but they quickened their pace in turn, and +he fell back into the ruck, beaten and exhausted. Dick could not take +his eyes from Allen's figure. He hardly realized, until that moment, +how much he cared for his friend; he felt as if he himself were +running the race; under his breath he was muttering, "Go it, Harry! Go +it, old man!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Around the curve they swung, and squared away for home. A great shout +came from the grandstand "Fenton, Fenton, Fenton!" and then "Morrison! +Egan!" "Go it, Morrison! Go it, Egan!" again and again.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a Fenton victory; there was no doubt of that. The two runners +were yards ahead of the field, and though both were tiring, they +seemed certain of keeping their lead to the tape, well ahead of the +rest. Dick felt a mixture of emotions. He was glad, first of all, of +course, for the school, and yet, mingled with his joy, there was a +tinge of sorrow for his friend. For he knew Allen's ambition had been +to wind up his last year with a win, and he felt that after all the +work he had done, it would be only a fair reward. Yet, barring the +impossible, Allen was beaten. And then, while all these thoughts were +flashing through his brain in a hundredth part of the time it takes to +put the words on paper, the seemingly impossible did happen. All at +once, as Dick sought for his friend's figure in the struggling ruck, +he caught sight of him, running wide on the outside of the field, but +cutting loose at last, with all the energy which he had held in +reserve, while he had been forced to wait and hang back, pocketed, +against his will. He did not merely pass the wearied runners from the +other two schools; he flashed by them as if they had been standing +still. It was a sight to bring a crowd to its feet, and to its feet it +came.</p> + +<p class="normal">Never for one instant did Allen's splendid stride relax. His eyes were +half closed, his head was thrown a little to one side, his lips were +drawn back from his teeth, but he ran like a race-horse, true, steady, +and game to the core, putting out the last ounce in him in a finish +such as Fenton Field had rarely seen. Twenty yards from the tape he +passed his schoolmates, still locked shoulder to shoulder, and keeping +still to his tremendous pace, swept by the post--a winner.</p> + +<p class="normal">The whole Fenton section of the stand was in an uproar. First, second +and third; a clean sweep--all eight points in the quarter--here was +something to buoy up their hopes at last. Nor did this end their good +fortune. A moment later the mile runners were started on their long +four circuits of the track, and Ned Brewster justified all the +predictions that had been made for him. He had the rest of the field +outclassed, and saving himself for the half-mile which was to come +later, made no effort at fast time, winning easily in four minutes and +forty-eight seconds, with Sheldon of Clinton second, and Marshall of +Hopevale third. The scorer at the bulletin board again shifted his big +figures, and now they read:</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +9 16 7</p> + + +<p class="normal">Dick went back to his broad jump trials with a light heart. It seemed +that the meet was as good as won. On his second trial he stepped over +the take-off and made a foul jump, and on his third, in his anxiety +not to repeat the mistake, he fell short of the board by almost a +foot, and though the actual distance was greater than anything he had +yet done, in measurement it amounted to but twenty feet and one-half +an inch. Yet he qualified for the finals, for Harding of Hopevale was +the only man who bettered his mark to any extent. On his second +attempt he cleared twenty feet, eight inches; while Johnson, after his +first good jump, waived his next two trials, watching the work of the +others to see whether he need jump again, or could save himself for +the high.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick had felt himself grow more limber with each successive jump, and +now felt sure that if he could once catch the take-off correctly, he +could improve his mark. On his first trial, in the finals, he +accomplished what he wished, and knew, even while still in midair, +that he had excelled his first performance. The measurer pulled the +tape up carefully to the mark left by Dick's heels in the soft, +well-rolled earth, and then announced, "Twenty-one one and a half." +Dick grew suddenly elated. It was the best jump he had ever made. He +was ahead of Harding; almost up to Johnson himself. For a moment he +even dreamed that he might prove the winner, after all. But his +triumph was short-lived. Johnson pulled off his sweater and took his +second try, and this time, putting a trifle more speed into his run, +cleared twenty-one, seven and a quarter. Dick failed to improve on his +second and third tries, yet he seemed sure of second place until +Harding's last jump. The Hopevale man put all his energies into his +attempt, and even from where Dick stood he could tell that the jump +was a good one. A moment later the announcer called, "Mr. Harding +jumps twenty-one, five," and Dick was put back to third. Yet he had +won a point for the school, and with it the right to wear his "F."</p> + +<p class="normal">And now the clerk came running up with two sheets of paper in his +hand. He gave them to the announcer, who forthwith called out, +"Throwing the sixteen-pound hammer--won by Ellis of Hopevale--second, +Merrihew of Hopevale--third, Robinson of Fenton. Distance, one hundred +and fifty-eight feet, eleven inches."</p> + +<p class="normal">There followed a storm of cheers from the Hopevale section, and the +announcer, raising his hand for silence, continued, "Pole vault, won +by Garfield of Fenton--second, Amory of Hopevale--third, Hollingsworth +of Hopevale--height, ten feet, six inches." Applause from Fenton, and +again from Hopevale, for the second and third had not been looked for. +And now the score board showed:</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +14 23 19</p> + + +<p class="normal">Decidedly, matters were growing interesting. The next three track +events were run off quickly, and without making much change in the +relative positions of the schools. Brewster won the half for Fenton, +in the good time of two, two and a quarter, with Cartwright of +Hopevale second, and Donaldson of Clinton third. The two-twenty, as is +so often the case, resulted exactly as the hundred had done, Harris of +Clinton winning in twenty-two and four-fifths, with Lindsay of Fenton +second, and Adams of Hopevale third. In the low hurdles Fenton was +shut out altogether, while Hopevale was deprived of two points on +which she had counted, for though Barker, who had been first in the +high, repeated his victory in the longer race, and won handily in +twenty-six and three-fifths, Jones' injured knee was too stiff to +allow him to start, and Ballantyne and Salisbury of Clinton took +second and third for their school. Thus but two events--the shot and +the high jump--were left, and the score board showed:</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +23 30 27</p> + + +<p class="normal">The shot was called first, and Brewster, his eyes gleaming with +excitement, came hurriedly up to Dick. "Do your best, old man," he +whispered. "Every point is going to count now. If you could get second +it would be great; even third would help a lot. This is going to be +the closest meet we ever had."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded, though feeling little confidence in his chances. Ellis +and Merrihew, he considered, were practically sure of first and +second; with Ross of Clinton he felt that he had a fighting chance for +third. Every eye was turned on the shot ring, and the scorer called, +"Ellis of Hopevale, first try."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ellis, big and strong and brawny, stepped forward with perfect +confidence, poised for a moment, and then leaped into his put. Even +Dick, much as he disliked the performer, could not repress a thrill of +admiration for the performance. It was a splendid try--clean, fast, +with a fine follow--and all done so easily that Dick could scarcely +credit his ears when the measurer gave his result to the announcer, +and the latter shouted, "Mr. Ellis puts thirty-nine, four and a half."</p> + +<p class="normal">Two other contestants made tries which fell five or six feet short of +Ellis', and then Ross put thirty-seven, four. Directly after him +Merrihew, big and ungainly, with brute strength enough to move a +mountain, made a slow, awkward put of thirty-eight, two. Then Dick's +name was called. Again Brewster whispered, "Do your best, old man," +and Allen slapped him encouragingly on the back. "Remember not to try +too hard, Dick," he said. Both meant their advice in the kindest +possible way, but it was a mistake of inexperience. Dick, for the +first time in his athletic career, in a really tight place, felt as if +he were moving in a dream, and his schoolmates' words only served to +increase his nervousness. He took his place in the ring. The shot +seemed to have grown terribly heavy, and forgetting everything that +McDonald had been drilling into him for the past weeks, he put +blindly, and walked out of the circle, scarcely knowing whether he had +done well or ill. There was an ominous silence, and then the scorer +announced, "Mr. Randall puts thirty-two, ten and a half."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick felt himself flush. There was a sneer on Ellis' face. He spoke +loudly enough for every one around the circle to hear. "That's the +Pentathlon man from Fenton," he said to Merrihew. "He's all right, +isn't he? He's a dandy."</p> + +<p class="normal">With an effort Dick kept control of himself. And then the second round +began. It resulted in a general improvement. Ellis put forty feet and +one inch; Ross thirty-seven, eleven; Merrihew thirty-eight, nine. When +it came Dick's turn he forced himself to imagine that he was +practising alone in McDonald's field, with no crowd to trouble him. He +put his whole mind on his form, and as a result, did better, getting +in a try of thirty-six, seven. Yet he felt far from satisfied, and all +at once it flashed upon him that he was doing the very thing which +McDonald had told him, long ago, was his besetting fault, that he was +stiffening up too soon in his effort, and not getting the powerful, +sweeping drive which made Ellis' trials so successful.</p> + +<p class="normal">The third round began. Ellis fell back a few inches, putting +thirty-nine, ten and a half; Ross improved to thirty-eight, four; +Merrihew put an even thirty-nine feet. "Thirty-eight four to beat," +Dick kept thinking to himself. He had never done it in practice, but +now, if ever, was the time. His name was called. He was perfectly cool +by this time; he knew exactly what he wished to do; and poising easily +at the back of the ring, he swung into his put, and finished through +with every bit of strength he possessed. It was a better try than his +others--he knew that, on the instant--but was it good enough for the +point. The measurers seemed to take longer than usual over their task. +Finally the announcer cried, "Thirty-eight, three and a half." Dick +turned away, sick at heart. He had failed; the point was lost.</p> + +<p class="normal">Brewster and Allen were at his side in an instant, cheering him as +best they could. "That's all right, old man," Brewster cried; "don't +you care. You beat your record. You can't do impossibilities. Don't +you mind." But Dick refused to be comforted. "A half an inch," he kept +repeating to himself, over and over again. "The least little bit more +ginger; the least little bit better form; a half an inch; confound the +luck!" and he sat gloomily watching the finals, which resulted as +expected, Ellis first, Merrihew second, Ross third. And the score +board showed:</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +24 30 34</p> + + +<p class="normal">The high jump alone remained. Brewster figured for a moment, and then +came over to Dick. "I don't want to rattle you, old man," he said, +"but there's just one chance in a hundred still. Hopevale hasn't a man +that's any good in the high; Clinton's got Johnson and Robinson. If +you could get a streak of jumping and beat Johnson, we'd win by a +point."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "I'll do everything that's in me, Ned," he said quietly, +and Brewster felt satisfied with the reply.</p> + +<p class="normal">The high jump was soon under way. At five feet, two, only Johnson, +Robinson and Dick were left. At five four, Robinson failed, scoring a +single point for Clinton. And then ensued a duel between Johnson and +Dick. Dick was jumping in his old time form, with plenty of speed and +spring, and all the stimulus of knowing that he might yet save the +day. Both boys cleared five, five, and five, six, in safety. At five, +seven, Johnson failed on his first trial, and the Fenton supporters +felt a sudden gleam of hope. Dick made ready for his try, every muscle +working in unison, every fiber in his body intent on clearing the bar +in safety. He ran down easily, quickened his pace on his last three +strides, and leaped. It was a splendid effort, save that he had taken +off a trifle too far from the bar. He was almost over and then, in a +last effort to work his body clear he lost his balance, just grazing +the bar, and fell into the pit, landing with one leg under him. There +was a moment's suspense; the bar hung undecidedly, springing up and +down under the impact of Dick's body--and then, just as the Fenton +crowd were getting ready to cheer, it gave one final shiver and +dropped into the pit at Dick's side. The cheers were changed to a +groan of disappointment, and then the silence grew almost painful as +Dick did not rise. Brewster hurried over to him; Randall's face was +white with pain. "Ankle, Ned," he said. "Give me a hand up, please."</p> + +<p class="normal">A moment later the doctor was examining him. "No break," he announced +at last, "and nothing really serious. But that ends it for to-day. +Another wrench, and you can't tell what would happen. Sorry, but it's +the fortune of war."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick protested vigorously. "I can get around on it," he cried, "let me +jog up and down, Doctor, and then take one more try. I don't care what +happens."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be foolish, Dick," he said. +"You couldn't jump three feet with that ankle. Don't walk on it, +either, you must give it absolute rest."</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet Dick insisted, and gamely tried to hobble back to the jumping +path. The effort was vain. Things swam around him, and with a long +sigh of disappointment he sank back on the ground. "All right, I'll +quit," he said, and a moment later Johnson cleared the height, and the +games were done.</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale</span><br> +30 32 34</p> + + +<p class="normal">It had been the closest meet in the history of the schools. Half an +hour later, as Dick left the locker-room, leaning on Allen's shoulder, +he heard Dave Ellis' voice, holding forth to a knot of admiring +supporters from Hopevale.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Turn his ankle? Not a bit of it," he was saying. "That's an old gag. +He knew when he was licked. He's got no sand. He won't go into the +Pentathlon now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook off Allen's detaining hand and thrust open the door. +"Sounds natural, Dave," he said, meeting Ellis' surprised glance with +a rather grim smile, "but if it interests you to know it, he will go +into the Pentathlon, and perhaps he'll make you hustle, too." He +banged the door behind him and limped away, his hand on Allen's +shoulder, down the stairs.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_8" href="#div2Ref_8">ON DIAMOND AND RIVER</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The track meet was over, and Hopevale had scored three points toward +the cup. Another victory, either in the ball game or the boat race, +and the competition would be ended. And this victory they were bent on +winning, while the other two schools were equally determined to wipe +out defeat, and to overcome their rival's lead, in the three contests +which remained.</p> + +<p class="normal">On the Saturday after the track games came the first round in the +base-ball league. Luck was with Fenton; they had the good fortune to +draw the bye, and the small party of boys who went to see the game +between Clinton and Hopevale was composed largely of experts, anxious +to "get a line" on the opposing teams, and to note the strong and weak +points in their play.</p> + +<p class="normal">Until the last two innings it was a close and interesting contest. +Prescott, the Clinton pitcher, proved a puzzle to his opponents, +but his support was none of the best; and thus, while the Clinton +team hit the Hopevale pitcher freely, the home nine, on the other +hand, put up a splendid fielding game, and for seven innings the score +was a tie, five to five. And then, in the eighth, there came, for +Hopevale, one of those unhappy times, when things go from bad to worse +with the rapidity of lightning. A base hit, a base on balls, and a +sacrifice put men on second and third, with only one out; and then a +clean two-bagger between center and right scored them both. After +which the Hopevale team, in the slang of the game, "went up into the +air."</p> + +<p class="normal">On the next play their short-stop, in an endeavor to catch the runner +coming from second base, threw wild to third; another base on balls +followed; and then, just at the psychological moment, Ferguson, the +heavy hitter of the Clinton team, sent a screaming three-bagger far +over the center-fielder's head. Altogether, by the time Hopevale had +steadied again, and the inning had ended, they found the score eleven +to five against them; and although they made one run in the eighth, +and another in the ninth, that was all, and it was Clinton's game, +eleven to seven. Supporters of both Fenton and Clinton breathed again. +One of them would win, and the other lose, but Hopevale, their common +enemy, had not yet secured the cup.</p> + +<p class="normal">The succeeding Saturday was the banner day of the sports. Ten o'clock +in the morning was the time set for the final ball game; and the boat +race was scheduled for three in the afternoon. The ball game was +played on the Clinton grounds, yet four carloads of spectators went +down from Fenton to cheer for their nine, and filled a good-sized +section of the grandstand with their crimson flags. Jim Putnam, with +the rest of the crew, stayed at home, to store up the last final ounce +of energy for the afternoon. Dick, Allen, Brewster and Lindsay sat +together, watching the tall and ungainly Prescott going through his +gyrations as he warmed up for the game. He appeared, as Allen +remarked, to be a "tough proposition." His delivery was so deceptively +easy that one scarcely realized the speed and power behind it, until +the ball struck, with a vicious "thut," in the catcher's glove. And +his curves looked as formidable as his speed. Brewster sighed as he +watched him. "Now how are they going to hit a fellow like that?" he +asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen, the optimistic, made haste to answer, "Oh, you can't tell," he +said, "he may get tired before he gets through. And we've got a better +fielding team than they have, I know. Besides, when you're talking +about pitchers, Ed Nichols is no slouch. You can bet they won't knock +him out of the box. Our show is as good as theirs."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he spoke, the umpire consulted for a moment with Jarvis, the Fenton +captain, and Crawford, the leader of the Clinton team. Then the coin +spun upward into the air, and immediately the Clinton players +scattered to their positions in the field, and the Fenton nine took +their places on the visitors' bench. "There," said Brewster, "bad luck +to start with. We've lost the toss."</p> + +<p class="normal">There followed the tense hush which always precedes the beginning of a +championship game. The umpire tossed out a new ball, which the +elongated Prescott at once proceeded to deface by rubbing it around, +with great thoroughness, in the dirt. Abbot, the Fenton short-stop, +stepped to the plate, and the umpire gave the time-honored command, +"Play ball!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The redoubtable Prescott eyed the batsman for an instant with what +seemed to the Fenton crowd a glare of hate, held the ball extended +before him, then, in Allen's phrase, "tied himself up into a number of +double bow-knots," and let fly. Abbot made no attempt to strike at +the ball; it appeared to be traveling too high; yet just before it +reached the plate it shot quickly downward, and the umpire called, +"Strike--one."</p> + +<p class="normal">At the second ball Abbot made a terrific lunge, but met only the air, +and a moment later, as Stevens, the Clinton catcher, moved up behind +the bat, a fast inshoot neatly cut the corner of the plate, and with +the words, "Strike--three--striker out," Abbot walked dejectedly back +to the bench.</p> + +<p class="normal">Crosby, the second man up, had slightly better fortune, for, as Allen +remarked, in an endeavor to keep up the courage of the others, "he had +a nice little run for his money," hitting an easy grounder to second +base, and being thrown out at first. Sam Eliot, the third man to face +Prescott, followed Abbot's example, and struck out. The Fenton half of +the inning ended in gloom.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now came Clinton's turn at the bat. Bates, the first man up, had two +strikes called on him, and then hit a clean, swift ball over second +base, and reached first in safety. Crawford, the Clinton captain, +bunted, advancing Bates to second. Then Nichols settled down to work, +and Davenport, the third batsman, was retired on strikes. Two out, a +man on second, and Ferguson, the much-dreaded heavy hitter, at the +bat, Nichols and Jarvis held consultation, and as a result Ferguson +was given his base on balls. It seemed good generalship, yet in the +sequel, it proved unfortunate, for Gilbert, the next man up, made a +tremendous drive far out into center field and never stopped running +until he had reached third, while Bates and Ferguson crossed the +plate. The Clinton section of the grandstand became delirious with +enthusiasm, in the midst of which Manning, the sixth man at bat for +the home team, hit weakly to Nichols, and was thrown out at first. Two +to nothing. It looked like Clinton's day.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nor did Fenton's chances seem brighter in the second. Again three men +came to bat, and again they were retired, without one of them reaching +first. Yet there was comfort in the latter half of the inning, for +Nichols steadied down, and proved as much of a puzzle as Prescott +himself. The Clinton men, in their turn, went out in one, two, three +order, and the hopes of the Fenton supporters faintly revived.</p> + +<p class="normal">Four more innings passed without another run being scored. It was a +genuine pitchers' battle, man after man, on either side, striking out, +hitting easy grounders to the infield, or popping up abortive flies. +The beginning of the seventh, however, brought a change. Jarvis was +the first man at bat for Fenton, and he started things auspiciously by +making a pretty single, close along the third base foul line. It +seemed like the time for taking chances, and on the next ball pitched, +he started for second, and aided by a poor throw by Stevens, the +Clinton catcher, made it in safety. Taylor, the next man at bat, +struck a sharp, bounding grounder toward second base, and the Hopevale +second-baseman ingloriously let it go through his legs. The Fenton +crowd in the grandstand, long deprived of a chance to cheer, shouted +themselves hoarse. A man on third, and one on first, and no one out. +The chances for tying the score looked bright.</p> + +<p class="normal">At this point, however, Prescott exerted all his skill. Warren, +coached to hit the ball at any cost, tried his best, but in vain. One +strike--one ball--two strikes--two balls--three strikes, and out. It +was Clinton's turn to exult. Nichols, the weakest batsman on the +Fenton team, was next in order, and to the surprise of friends and +foes alike, he made as pretty a single over short-stop's head as one +could have wished to see, scoring Jarvis and advancing Taylor to +second. Then came Abbot's turn, and this time he had his revenge for +two successive strike-outs by making a long drive between left and +center, good for two bases, and bringing Taylor and Nichols home. +Fenton was in the lead, and the grandstand became a mass of blazing +crimson. Such a batting streak, however, was too good to last. Crosby +hit a pop fly to Prescott, and Eliot struck out. Yet Fenton was well +content. Three to two; and only two innings and a half to play.</p> + +<p class="normal">Clinton's half of the seventh resulted in no score; and in the eighth +both sides retired in order, Prescott and Nichols again on their +mettle, and pitching as if their very lives depended on the outcome of +the game. In the ninth Fenton made a splendid effort to increase their +lead. With two out, and with men on second and third, Crosby hit a +liner that looked good enough to score both men, and then Bates, the +Clinton short-stop, pulled off the star play of the game, leaping high +into the air, and getting his right hand on the ball just at the one +possible moment--a clean, sensational catch that set the followers of +both schools cheering, and stopped the Fenton scoring where it stood.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then came the last of the ninth. The inning opened well for Fenton. +Prescott hit a long fly to center field, which Irwin captured without +difficulty. Bates bunted, and aided by his fleetness of foot, beat the +ball to first. Crawford struck out. The game was almost won, and then +came one of those sudden plays, that in a flash changes a defeat into +a victory. Davenport swung on the first ball pitched, met it fair and +square, with a crack that sounded like a rifle shot, and lifted it, as +if on wings, clear over the left field fence. Red and black had its +turn; flags waved; throats grew hoarse with cheering; Bates jogged +home, and Davenport made the circuit of the bases at sprinting speed, +while the crowd poured out on the field and bore him away on their +shoulders in triumph. The game was ended--four to three--and Clinton +was even with Hopevale for the cup. It was a silent procession of +Fenton followers who walked down from the field, to take the train for +home.</p> + +<p class="normal">An hour later Dick entered Putnam's room, to find his classmate +stretched, resting, on the bed. He looked up eagerly. "Well?" he +queried.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick shook his head. "They licked us," he answered, "but there's no +kick coming. It was a dandy game. I never want to see a better one. It +looked as if we had it--" and he went over the whole story for +Putnam's benefit, detailing every play, as it had occurred. "And so +they licked us," he concluded, "and now, Jim, it seems to be most +everlastingly up to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam rose and began to pace up and down the room. "That's about the +size of it," he answered, "and, thank goodness, we've got no hard luck +stories to tell. We're in good shape--every one of us--and right on +edge, too. If we're licked, it's because they've got better crews. +But, by golly," he added, "they've got to go some, Dick. I don't care +if I row the whole crew out, and we don't come to for a week, but +we'll do our darndest, anyway. It's make or break, now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. "Yes, it's win or nothing," he said; "but I'm glad of one +thing. I guess Clinton's got a better crew than Hopevale, and if we +<i>can't</i> win, then the cup goes to Clinton. And our old friend, Dave, +can win all the Pentathlons he likes; it won't do him any good then. +But we won't back down till we have to. You may lick 'em, after all."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam squared his shoulders. "Dick," he said solemnly, "you watch us +in the last half-mile, and if you can come to me afterward, and tell +me that I didn't hit things up to the last notch, then you can hold my +head under water till I drown. If I don't do my level best, and then +some, I'm a Dutchman."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick laughed. "I'll watch you, all right," he answered, "but not to +criticize; only to yell for all I'm worth, whether you're ahead or +behind. We're with you, Jim, win or lose. The crowd of us have hired a +launch, so if our moral support is going to help you any, on your way +down the river, why you'll know you've got it."</p> + +<p class="normal">The time before the race dragged away somehow, and shortly before +three, the launch, with Allen, Brewster, Lindsay and Dick on board, +came to a halt, with a dozen other craft, off the starting buoys, +marking the beginning of the two-mile course. It was the perfection of +racing weather, the water calm and smooth as a mirror, yet with the +sky overcast, so as to temper the heat of the sun. One by one the +crews came paddling out from the big boat-house on the shore. First +came Hopevale, their blue-bladed oars dipping prettily together, and +the blue cap on their coxswain's head making them easy to distinguish +from the others. After them came Clinton, the winners of the previous +year, a rangy, speedy-looking crew, their red and black jerseys +looming up more prominently than the quieter colors of their rivals. +And last of all, their own boat left the shore, Blagden at bow, +Selfridge at two, "Big" Smith at three, and Putnam at stroke. Little +"Skeeter" Brown, the eighty-pound coxswain, sat in the stern, +megaphone strapped around his head, his big, long-visored crimson +jockey cap pulled down about his ears.</p> + +<p class="normal">The referee's launch tooted a warning blast. The three crews increased +their speed a trifle, and one by one took up their positions, Hopevale +on the outside, Clinton in the middle, Fenton nearest the boat-house +shore. The coxswains gripped the starting-lines, the referee talked +briefly to the three captains in turn, and then, backing his launch, +made ready to give the signal for the start. It was a pretty sight: +the rival crews, tense and ready, awaiting the word; the little fleet +of pleasure craft which was to follow in their wake; on shore the +eager enthusiasts who were to pursue them on bicycles or in motors +along the bank. And Dick, as he gazed around him, could not but think +of that other crowd, waiting so eagerly at the finish, two miles away, +and turning the sober old river into a garden of variegated color, +with the flags and ribbons of the different schools.</p> + +<p class="normal">The referee's right arm was outlined in silhouette against the sky. A +moment's silence and then the pistol cracked, the little wreath of +smoke curled upward, and the twelve oars caught the water like one. A +tooting of whistles, a medley of shouts and cheers; the race was on.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boys stood well forward, as the bow of their launch cut through +the water, their eyes fixed on the three crews, as they shot away down +stream. Clinton had the lead, that was already evident. They had +gained it in the first half-dozen strokes, and had increased it, first +to a quarter length, then to a half, Hopevale and Fenton fighting, bow +and bow, for second place. For a quarter-mile they kept the same +positions, and then, all at once, Hopevale--the crew the boys had +rated as the least dangerous--took a sudden spurt. Quickening their +stroke perceptibly, they drew away from Fenton, then came even with +Clinton, and finally were a clear length in the lead. "Look at 'em!" +cried Lindsay. "I didn't know they could row like that. Look at 'em +go!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen eyed them critically. Their boat did not move as smoothly as the +others; there was a perceptible roll from side to side; there was some +splashing by bow and two; yet for all that, the crew was made up of +big, strong oarsmen, and despite their evident lack of form, they +drove their shell ahead at a tremendous pace. But Allen shook his +head. "They won't last," he said. "They'll be rowed out at a mile."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick hastened to dissent. "I don't believe it, Harry," he replied. "A +two-mile race isn't like a four-mile. I think they can hold that pace, +and if they do, they'll win. Look at 'em 'dig. There! There goes +Clinton after 'em! Why doesn't Jim hit 'er up, too? There! Now he's +quickened. Oh, good boy, Jim! That's the stuff! Soak it to 'em!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was shouting as if he fancied Putnam could hear every word he said, +unmindful of the fact that every one else around him was shouting as +well. Hopevale had drawn away still more, and then, as a half-length +of open water showed between them and Clinton, the Clinton crew had at +last begun to quicken in their turn. Slowly they drew up on the +leaders, and then, just as Dick had begun his yells of encouragement, +for the first time Putnam had raised his stroke, and the three boats +passed the mile-post with Hopevale a length ahead, and Clinton a +half-length in front of the Fenton crew.</p> + +<p class="normal">For another quarter-mile there was practically no change. Brewster +began to worry. "Why doesn't Jim spurt?" he cried. "If Hopevale keeps +it up, they win. It's only a quarter-mile to the turn."</p> + +<p class="normal">Sure enough, they could see, ahead of them, the bend that marked the +last half-mile of the course. Yet still Putnam did not quicken; in +fact, he dropped back a trifle, and the boys' hearts sank like lead. +Only Dick, remembering what Putnam had said to him that morning, kept +repeating to himself, "The last half-mile; the last half-mile."</p> + +<p class="normal">And now, into the swarm of boats along the banks, into the noise and +din of the crowds, the three crews steered around the bend, and +squared away for home. The race between Clinton and Hopevale was so +close and pretty to watch that for a moment the boys had taken their +eyes off their own crew; and then, suddenly, Dick began shouting like +a maniac, "Oh, Jim, give it to 'em! That's the boy, Jim! Give it to +'em! That's the boy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">With one accord the others turned, and the next moment were joining in +Randall's frenzied cries. For the spurt had come at last. Putnam had +cut loose with every ounce of power at his command; Big Smith at three +was backing him gallantly, passing forward the heightened stroke, and +Selfridge and Blagden were quickening like heroes in their turn. Nor +were the boys in the launch the only ones to note the change. All the +shouts of the crowd had been, "Hopevale! Clinton!" Yet now there came +a roar from the banks, "Oh, well rowed! Well rowed, Fenton! Go in! Go +in and win!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Never did Randall forget that last half-mile. Gallantly the Hopevale +boys stuck to their work, yet the smooth, persistent power of the +Clinton boat was not to be denied, and a quarter-mile from home +Hopevale was a beaten crew. And then, as they fell back, defeated, but +game, all eyes were turned on the boys from Fenton. Never for an +instant did Putnam falter; such a stroke as he was setting had not +been seen on the river for many and many a year. And strive as Clinton +would, they fell back, inch by inch, foot by foot, and the finish but +two hundred yards away. Now the bows of the shells were even, now for +an instant Clinton showed again in the lead, and then, with one final +effort, the Fenton shell leaped forward again and again. A wild burst +of whistles, shrieking horns, shouting hundreds on the shore, and by a +quarter boat length, the Fenton crew had won.</p> + +<p class="normal">Half an hour later, Putnam was riding home with his friends, tired, +exhausted, but happy as a boy could be. "Well, old man," Dick said to +him, "I'm not going to drown you. You did what you said you'd do. The +last half-mile; that's where you fixed 'em."</p> + +<p class="normal">Putnam nodded. "Thank goodness," he said, "for once I rowed just the +race I meant to. I couldn't have beaten that time a second for a +million dollars. And, golly, wasn't it close? I don't see how we did +it. But we did. Three points apiece, and only the Pentathlon left. +Dick, old man, the rest of us have done our darndest. And now it's +your turn; it's up to you."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_9" href="#div2Ref_9">FOUL PLAY</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was nearing sunset on Friday, the fourteenth of June; the +Pentathlon was scheduled for ten o'clock on the following day. Dick +Randall, dressed in his street clothes, but with his spiked shoes on +his feet, stood, hammer in hand, listening to McDonald's final words +of explanation and advice. McDonald's protégé, Joe, the little French +Canadian, lay stretched on the grass, near the edge of the field, +looking on.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a bright, clear evening, and the sun, now almost level with the +horizon, smote blindingly across the field. McDonald shifted his +position to escape its glare. "Now then, Dick," he said, "just one +more try, to be sure we've got it. That's all I'm going to let you +take. We'll run no risk of damaging that ankle of yours again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, the ankle's all right," Dick answered. "I honestly couldn't feel +in better shape. And you don't know what a load it takes off my mind +to have the hammer coming right at last. It makes me feel as if I +really had something of a show."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald nodded. "Of course, you have a show," he answered. "Now take +your try, and remember the two things I've been telling you! Pull away +from it, all the time, as if you were hauling tug-of-war on a rope; +and don't start to turn too quick. But when you do start, spin fast, +and the rest will come by itself. And if you don't throw within ten +feet of Dave Ellis to-morrow, I'm a liar."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick took his stand within the circle, and made ready for his trial. +After weeks of disappointment, there had finally come a day when the +whole theory of the double turn had worked itself out satisfactorily +in his brain, and had remained there, so that for the past fortnight +he had kept his form, and had steadily increased the distance of his +throws. Yet McDonald, although a great believer in light work before a +competition, knew from experience how easily the knack with the hammer +may be lost, and while he had made Dick stop his running and jumping, +he had kept him at light practice with the weight, taking half a dozen +throws a day, until his pupil had acquired a method that was almost +mechanical in its certainty. Now he found little to criticize as Dick +spun around quickly and smoothly, keeping well within the circle, and +sending the missile far down the field. He nodded approval. "All +right," he called, "that's enough. We'll stop right there. Let's put +the tape on it."</p> + +<p class="normal">While they were measuring, Joe, from his position near the fence, +happened to glance into the woods beyond the field, and having looked +once, he seemed to take no further interest in the hammer throwers, +but lay still, and without appearing to do so, kept a watchful eye on +the spot of light which had gleamed from the branches of the big oak +tree on the border of the wood. The last rays of the sunset streamed +gloriously across the field; in answer, flash after flash came +sparkling from the oak; and then the sun dipped behind the hills, and +the soft shadow of the twilight crept downward toward the town.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick and McDonald, talking earnestly together, started to leave the +field. At the corner of the wood, Dick turned, gazing out at the +darkening west. "Fine day to-morrow, I guess, all right," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," McDonald assented, "it looks like it. And we're going to have +you in shape to do a good performance, Dick. Wait till you've eaten +the steak I've got for you. That's going to put the muscle on. It'll +mean a foot in the hammer, I know."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick laughed. "Well, you were good to invite me to stay," he answered. +"I told Mr. Fenton we had a few last things to talk over, and that I'd +come back after supper. And he said that would be all right. Now, +about that high jump--"</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked on toward the cottage. As they passed the angle of the +woods, Joe, who had been walking along behind them, hurried up to +McDonald, spoke a few quick words to him in an undertone, and darted +away among the trees. Dick looked after him in surprise. "What's +struck the kid?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know myself," he answered, "he +takes queer notions sometimes. Something, he said, about a big bird in +a tree. But he's all right. He's a smart youngster, and he knows the +woods like a book. He'll be back by supper-time."</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked on again, still discussing the all-absorbing topic of the +morrow's meet. In the meantime, Joe's little figure was flitting +onward through the woods, slipping silently from tree to tree, from +time to time stopping to listen, until finally, ahead of him, he heard +the murmur of voices. Dropping quickly on his hands and knees, he +crept forward through the underbrush. Then, reaching the edge of a +little clearing, he peered cautiously through the bushes, and saw +before him the figures of two men, standing talking together in the +fading light. One of them was slight and dark, and fashionably +dressed, and as Joe saw the pair of field-glasses slung over his +shoulder, his eyes gleamed, and he gave a quick little nod to himself, +as if now sure of something which he had only suspected before. The +other man was short, broad, powerful, his thick chest and long arms +suggesting a strength far above the average. It was he who was +speaking, and Joe strained his ears to listen to every word.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't like it," he was saying; "the whole thing's too big a risk. +You're safe, I guess, if you play it straight. Ellis is going to win."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, he isn't going to win," the dapper young man replied. "I've +climbed that cursed tree every afternoon for the last week, and I know +how far Randall's getting that hammer, and I tell you again that, +barring accidents, he's going to lick Ellis on the show-down. It will +be close, but Randall wins."</p> + +<p class="normal">His companion grunted. "Humph," he said, "this Dave Ellis must be a +beaut. He makes you lots of bother. First he loses two hundred to you +at poker, and then he cries baby, and says he can't pay, and then he +puts you on to this athletic business, to get square, and now at the +last minute, when your money's on, it turns out you've backed the +wrong man. Don't blame you for being a little worked up. That comes +close to being what I should call a pretty raw deal."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No," the younger man answered, "hardly that. Ellis meant all right. +He thought he could win. He thinks now he can win. But he can't. I'm +sure of it. Because, as long as I've got five hundred dollars on him, +I've taken pains to find out how things stand. He can beat Johnson, +all right, but he can't beat Randall. The men I got my money up with, +were pretty wise guys--they had the tip from McDonald, I believe. +Anyway, it's too late to hedge, and so--I wrote you. And, as I tell +you, it's a hundred dollars in your pocket, and as easy as breaking +sticks. So don't go back on me now."</p> + +<p class="normal">The older man appeared to hesitate. "I don't like it much," he said +again, then added, "When do you mean to pull it off?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Right away," answered the other. "I meant to do it later to-night, +but now I find he's going to stop at McDonald's for supper, and then +walk back. It's a straight road, and a lonely one. There's a patch of +woods about half-way home. It's easy. We've got the team. And there's +no harm done to any one. You're the gainer, and so am I, and so is +young Dave. The whole thing's no more than a joke, except that it +means five hundred dollars to me, and five hundred dollars is money, +these times. So let's get going."</p> + +<p class="normal">Still his companion hesitated. "Here's two things I want to know," he +said at length; "first, where do I take him?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Smith's old barn," answered the other promptly; "pleasant and retired +health resort. No bad neighbors. Quiet and peaceful. Keep him till +about noon to-morrow, and then let him stray back any way you please. +Oh, the thing's a cinch. I almost hate to do it. It's too easy. But, +as I say, I need the money."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, it's all a cinch," grumbled the older man, "where I do the +work, and you do the heavy looking on. It's always easy for the fellow +that's superintending. But now look here. Here's question number two. +Suppose Randall doesn't show up to-morrow, at ten o'clock, what +happens then? Won't they postpone the whole darn business? I'm not +going to live in Smith's old barn for ever, you know. I'm not as +strong for this rest-cure idea as you seem to think I am. I like some +action for mine."</p> + +<p class="normal">His companion smiled. "You don't seem to give me any credit for +working out this scheme," he complained. "I thought of the chance of +their postponing it, the first thing, so I asked a lot of innocent +questions of Dave, and found out there wasn't any danger in that +direction. They make a lot of fuss over this athletic business, you +know, just as if it really amounted to something. And one of the +'points of honor,' as Dave calls 'em, is never to postpone. Kind of +'play or pay' idea. They've had a base-ball game in a rainstorm, and a +foot-ball game in a blizzard, and once they tried to row a boat race +in half a gale of wind, and swamped all three shells. Oh, no, if +Randall isn't there, they'll go ahead without him; that's all there is +to that. He can explain afterward, but it's going to sound so fishy, +they'll think he's lying. It isn't bad, really, the whole plan. Hullo, +what's that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">At the edge of the clearing, a twig snapped sharply. Joe, in his +eagerness to hear all that was being said, had crept nearer and +nearer, and now the accident nearly betrayed him. Both men listened +intently, and Joe hugged the ground, hardly daring to breathe. "Guess +'twasn't anything," said the older man, at last. "Don't believe these +woods is very densely populated. Well, let's get out. We want to be in +time," and a moment later Joe heard their footsteps growing fainter +and fainter in the distance.</p> + +<p class="normal">For an instant or two, he thought hard. He did not understand all that +he had heard, but the main points in the scheme were clear enough to +his mind. He must warn Dick at once, before it was too late. And +rising to his feet, he started to run. Yet his very haste proved his +undoing. It had grown dark. The woods, even by daylight, were hard to +traverse; and now, in his hurry and excitement, he momentarily bore +away too far to the right, and missed his way. Then, striving to make +up for lost time, he became more and more confused; and finally, +catching his foot in a clinging vine, at the top of a little ravine, +he pitched forward, half fell, half rolled, down the slope, struck his +head violently against some hard substance at the bottom, and lay +still, his face upturned to the sky, over his forehead a little +trickling stream of blood.</p> + +<p class="normal">An hour later, Dick came out of McDonald's cottage. "Well, we've got +everything straight now," he said, "and you'll be there tomorrow. +Hopevale Oval, ten o'clock sharp."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald nodded. "I'll be there," he answered, "and remember my words, +Dick; you're going to win. Good night, and good luck."</p> + +<p class="normal">He watched Randall's form vanish in the darkness; then turned his face +toward the wood. "Oh, Joe," he called, "supper's ready," and then +again, more loudly, "Oh, Joe," but no answer came back to him, and +with a puzzled look on his face, he reëntered the cottage.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick walked leisurely along through the gloom of the summer night. He +felt happy, knowing that he was in the very pink of condition, and now +that his chance to do something for the school had really come, he was +determined to meet the crisis as gamely and as resolutely as his +classmates on the crew had done. Far away, in the distance, the lights +of the school shone out across the fields. He gave a sigh of +anticipation, feeling alive in every nerve and muscle; fit to do +battle for his very life.</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-way home, he entered the patch of woods which bordered the road, +for some little distance, on either hand. And then suddenly he gave a +start of surprise, for midway through the thicket, a dark figure +loomed up ahead of him, advancing through the gloom. In spite of +himself, Dick felt a thrill of uneasiness, but the stranger hailed him +cordially enough. "Beg pardon," he said, "but have you a match about +you? My pipe's gone out."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick moved to one side, to let the man pass, his muscles on the alert +to make a dash for liberty, if the need should come. "Sorry," he +answered, "I don't carry 'em--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He got no further. Suddenly, even as he became conscious that the man +was still advancing, a brawny arm was thrown about his neck from +behind; his head was jerked violently backward; he choked and gasped +for breath; and then, before he could struggle or utter a cry, he was +gagged, bound, and lying helpless as a log, was borne swiftly away +down the road.</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The following morning, at seven o'clock, Mr. Fenton heard a hurried +knock at his study door. "Come in," he called, and Harry Allen hastily +entered, his face pale. "Mr. Fenton," he said, "here's trouble. I just +went into Dick Randall's room, and he's not there. His bed hasn't been +slept in. What do you suppose can have happened to him?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton looked at him in surprise. "I can't imagine, Harry," he +replied. "He told me, yesterday, he would take supper with McDonald, +and come home shortly afterward. He might have stayed there overnight, +I suppose. Still, that's not like Randall. He would have telephoned me +from the village, I think. It seems curious, doesn't it? I'll send to +McDonald's at once, and we'll see. Will you ask Peter to slip the mare +into the buggy, please; and you go with him, Harry, and show him the +way? I don't doubt you'll find Dick there."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was an hour later when Allen reëntered the room, the lack of good +news showing in his face. "He wasn't there," he cried, "and what's +stranger still, McDonald wasn't there either, or the boy. What can it +mean, Mr. Fenton? You don't suppose McDonald--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton finished the sentence for him. "Would have caused Dick to +vanish?" he said. "I don't know, Harry. Your guess is as good as mine. +Probably it's some very simple circumstance which we're not bright +enough to see. But I confess I'm puzzled. I shall go down to the +village directly after breakfast, and see what I can discover there. +But I've no doubt everything's all right. McDonald and Dick must be +together, wherever they are."</p> + +<p class="normal">Allen paused, with his hand on the knob of the door. "Shall I tell the +fellows, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton deliberated. "I think not," he said at last. "We don't wish +a tempest in a teapot. You know what the newspapers are, these days. +No, I think you'd better say nothing, for the present. Perhaps Dick +will turn up at Hopevale, if he doesn't come back here before then. +No, I think, on the whole, I wouldn't alarm the boys," and Allen, +nodding, left the room.</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">At the selfsame hour that this conversation was taking place at the +school, Dick Randall sat moodily in a chair, in what had been the +harness-room of Jim Smith's big barn, now long disused, and falling to +decay. The gag had been taken from his mouth, but his arms and legs +were still bound. Opposite him sat his captor, the brawny thick-set +man whom Joe had seen in the woods on the previous night. He had +coaxed a fire into an unwilling start in the old, rusty stove, and was +laboring hard to produce a dish of coffee in an old tin dipper. A +couple of sandwiches lay on the floor beside him. Finally, with the +fire going to his satisfaction, he turned to Dick. "Well, now," he +observed, "I call this doing pretty well. Real nice and sociable like. +Two regular old pals, we're getting to be. You've promised not to +holler, which is sensible, because no one would hear you if you did, +so you've got your jaws free to eat; and if you'd only promise not to +try to get away, I'd untie them arms of yours, and you'd be as fine as +a fiddle. Come now, give me your word, and I'll cut that rope in a +minute. That shows what a trust I've got in you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick made no answer. His face was drawn and anxious, there were dark +circles under his eyes; he was thinking desperately, as he had thought +all through the long summer night. Some means of escape he must +find--and yet--how was it possible? And then, even as he recklessly +considered the giving and breaking of his word, and the chance of a +struggle with his jailer, the man pulled his watch from his pocket, +and yawned.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ten minutes past eight," he said. "Just a little longer, and them +games will be going on, over at Hopevale. Too bad you can't see 'em; I +guess they'll be a fine sight. They tell me this Dave Ellis is a +likely man at all such things as that. I suppose most likely he'll +beat."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick did not deign a reply. In their long, solitary sojourn together, +he had become accustomed to his captor's ideas of humor. So that now, +he did not even permit his eyes to meet those of his tormentor, but +gazed steadily past him, toward the door of the carriage house. "Ten +minutes past eight," he reflected; "it is too late--nothing could help +me now."</p> + +<p class="normal">And then, like lightning from a clear sky, came the climax to all this +startling series of events. For even as he looked, slowly and +cautiously he beheld the door of the harness-room slide back, and the +next instant there appeared in the doorway the figure of Duncan +McDonald, a revolver in his outstretched hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">The look of amazement in Dick's eyes must have warned his jailer, for +he wheeled sharply, to find himself looking into the muzzle of +McDonald's pistol. Then came the quick command, "Hands up, lively," +and as he reluctantly obeyed, McDonald called sharply, "All right, +Joe. Come on. Go through his pockets, now."</p> + + +<p class="center"><img src="images/hands.png" alt="'Hands up, lively,' McDonald called"></p> + + +<p class="normal">Dick started with surprise and pity, as the little French Canadian +limped forward into the room. His face was deathly pale, and streaked +and matted with blood. Yet he went resolutely at his task, and a +moment later drew out from the man's pocket a big revolver, and handed +it to McDonald. The latter smiled grimly. "Now cut Dick loose," he +directed, and Joe quickly obeyed. With a long sigh of relief, Randall +managed to struggle to his feet, walking haltingly around till the +thickened blood began once more to stir into life. McDonald motioned +to the door. "Hurry, Dick," he said, "Joe will show you. Down the +path. I've got a team. And food, and a set of my running things. +Hurry, now. I'll be with you in a minute. I'm going to keep a watch on +your friend here, till you give a yell to show you're ready to start."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fifteen minutes later they had left the woods and were speeding down +the road toward Hopevale. Dick's face was transfigured. With every +turn of the wheels, he was coming back to himself. A chance was left +him after all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How did it all happen, Duncan?" he asked, and hurriedly and +disjointedly McDonald told him the tale.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Joe saw something shining up in a tree, last night," he said; +"thought it was queer. Went to investigate. Man had been up there, +watching us with a field-glass. Joe stumbled on him, talking with +another fellow--this chap that had you tied up there in the barn. Joe +can't tell me the whole thing, but I gather they had something in for +you, about the Pentathlon. I guess they wanted Ellis to win. So Joe +heard 'em say they were going to get you, and carry you off to Smith's +old barn. He started home to put us wise, and as bad luck would have +it, he pitched down a gully, and cracked his head open. I went looking +for him about ten o'clock, and I was in the woods all night. Never +found him till five this morning. He'd come to, poor little rascal, +and was trying to crawl home, but he was so weak he could hardly stir. +But he got out his story, and you can bet I did some quick thinking.</p> + +<p class="normal">"First, I was going up to town, to telephone the school, and see if +you were all right. And then I thought, if I did that, it might waste +too much time, and if things had gone wrong, I might be too late, +after all. So I went back to the house, got together my running things +and the grub you've just been eating, and then hustled off to my +nearest neighbor's, and did a little burglar act. This is his favorite +colt we're driving; I knew this fellow could eat up a dozen miles in +jig time, and so--I took him. The old man had gone up to town with a +load of garden truck. His wife tried to stop me taking the horse, but +I brandished my revolver at her, and she ran. I suppose she thought I +was crazy, And then Joe piloted me to the barn--I'd never have found +it by myself in a hundred years--so here we are." He pulled out his +watch. "Ten minutes of nine, and ten miles to go. We're all right on +time. But you must feel pretty stiff, Dick; I don't know whether you +can do yourself justice or not."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick stretched himself. "Oh, I'm limbering up a little," he answered, +"I think a good rub will help a lot. And I don't feel tired. The +excitement, I suppose. I guess I'll last through, all right. But oh, +I'm grateful to you and Joe, Duncan; thank Heaven, you came when you +did. If I'd missed the Pentathlon, I'd never have got over it in the +world."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald smiled, the smile of a man looking back over his own boyhood. +"We get over a lot of things, Dick, in a lifetime," he answered, "but +I know just how you feel. I guess Joe did all he could to square up +with you for helping him, and I'm mighty glad we got there in time."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3><a name="div2_10" href="#div2Ref_10">THE PENTATHLON</a></h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Doctor Merrifield, the elderly, gray-haired principal of Hopevale, +turned with a smile of satisfaction to his guest. "A record day, Mr. +Graham," he said, "and a record crowd. I think we may mutually +congratulate ourselves."</p> + +<p class="normal">The head master of Clinton nodded in reply. "Indeed we may, Doctor," +he answered. "Of course the fact that it's graduation week: has +something to do with it, but even then, I have never seen a gathering +like this, in the history of the schools."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was good reason for their words. Mid-June had made its most +graceful bow to the world. A warm sun shone down over Hopevale Oval; a +cool breeze blew pleasantly across the field. The track itself had +never looked so well. It had been rolled, scraped, re-rolled once +more; the whitewashed lines had been neatly marked at start and +finish; the lanes for the hundred freshly staked out. Altogether, the +track keeper had done his work to perfection, and a man beaten in the +Pentathlon, whatever other reason he might have given for his defeat, +could scarcely have complained of the conditions under which he was +competing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Equally good were the arrangements on the field. The high-jump path +was hard and smooth as a floor; a new cross bar was stretched across +the standards; a dozen extra ones lay ready at hand, in case of +accident to the one in use. The ring for the shot put was in +first-class shape; two shots, one iron, one lead, lay close by. +Three or four hammer rings were clearly marked on the smooth, +closely-cropped green turf. The most critical old-timer who ever wore +a shoe could not have found fault with the preparations for the meet.</p> + +<p class="normal">And many a man, indeed, who had been famous in his day, sat in the +rows of seats which surrounded the Oval, eager to see the final +contest for the cup, whose possession meant so much to the school +victorious in this hard and well-fought fight. Fathers, uncles, elder +brothers, small boys looking forward to the day when they, in turn, +would take their places in the family procession, and come to Clinton, +Fenton or Hopevale, as the case might be; all were present in the +stands. Nor was it, by any means, a gathering of men and boys alone. +Mothers, aunts, sisters, most of whom knew little of athletics, and +had but the haziest idea of all that was going forward, lent, none the +less, a charm of bright dresses and brighter faces, to the scene. And +though the games were held at Hopevale, it was no mere local crowd of +spectators which had assembled to watch them. The colors of the home +school were naturally enough in the ascendant, but train after train +had brought its cheering followers of the two rival academies, and the +red and black of Clinton, and the crimson of Fenton, vied with the +Hopevale blue.</p> + +<p class="normal">Doctor Merrifield looked across the track. "Here comes our friend +Fenton," he observed, "and evidently in a hurry, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton walked rapidly up to them, his face puzzled and anxious. +"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "I find myself involved in a most +unaccountable mystery. I don't suppose either of you has heard any +word of Randall, our entry in the Pentathlon?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Both of his colleagues gazed at him in astonishment. "Are you +serious?" said Mr. Graham, while the doctor said, "You don't mean to +tell us he isn't here. Why, it only lacks five minutes to ten."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton sighed. "I can't understand it," he said, "and I can't help +being a little bit worried. I've notified the authorities, but haven't +heard a single word of him since yesterday afternoon. It's a most +extraordinary thing. And apart from my anxiety for Randall, it seems +hard to say good-by to our chances for the cup. However, the fortunes +of war--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Graham interrupted him. "Why, we don't want anything like that to +happen," he said, "we'll waive our rule, I'm sure. Won't we, Doctor? +We can postpone the meet for a time."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Fenton made an eloquent gesture toward the crowded stands. "I +couldn't ask it," he said decidedly. "You're very kind to suggest it, +Graham, and I appreciate it. But if the positions were reversed, I +shouldn't expect you to ask the favor of me. It would never do to +interrupt the order of exercises, and disappoint a gathering of this +size. It would be a reflection, it seems to me, on our ability to +conduct our schools. No, I thank you, but, as I said before, it's the +fortune of war. Your boys must fight it out between themselves. I +suppose some day this will all be explained--"</p> + +<p class="normal">An outburst of Hopevale cheers broke in on him. Dave Ellis, looking in +the very top-notch of condition, was walking leisurely across the +field. A moment later, Johnson's lithe figure emerged from the +dressing-room, and Clinton applauded in their turn. And then, even as +they stood listening to the tumult, they were aware of a growing +confusion at the entrance to the field, out of which presently emerged +two rather disheveled looking figures, making toward the locker +building at a hurried pace. At the same instant broke forth a roar +from the Fenton section, "Randall, Randall, Randall!" and Mr. Fenton, +taking an abrupt leave of his associates, started across the field, as +fast as his legs could carry him. "Thank Heaven," he muttered to +himself, "nothing serious has happened to him. But what can the +trouble have been?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He found Randall hastily dressing. Dick looked up at him with what was +meant for a smile. "Can't explain now, Mr. Fenton," he said hurriedly. +"It wasn't my fault. I'm lucky to be here. If it hadn't been for +McDonald and Joe, I shouldn't be. But I'll tell you the whole story +later. I've got just time for my rub-down now."</p> + +<p class="normal">For five minutes, McDonald's skilful hands worked over the stiffened +muscles, and as Dick jogged across to the start, he felt that his +speed and spring were in some measure returning. Yet the hundred +yards was disappointing. Johnson ran first, and moved down the track +like a race-horse, traveling in first-class form, and making the +distance in ten and three-fifths. Ellis ran second, and did eleven +flat. Dick, a little unnerved by all he had been through, made a false +start--something most unusual for him--and was set back a yard. Then, +in his anxiety not to commit the same fault a second time, he got away +poorly, and finished in the slowest time of the three--eleven and +one-fifth. It was excellent scoring, for a start, and Johnson was +credited with eighty-three points, Ellis with seventy-five and Dick +with seventy-one.</p> + +<p class="normal">With the shot put, the lead changed. Johnson, considering his lighter +weight, performed splendidly, making an even thirty-six feet. Dick +found that his stiffness did not bother him nearly so much as it had +done in the dash, and made his best put of the year, thirty-eight, +nine. But Ellis surpassed himself, and on his last attempt, broke the +league record, with a drive of forty-one, two. His seventy-two points +loomed large, by the side of Dick's sixty and Johnson's forty-seven, +and the score-board showed:</p> + + +<table style="width:40%; margin-left:5%"> +<tr> +<td><span class="sc">Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>147</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Randall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>131</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>130</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="normal">Next, the high jump was called, and all three boys kept up the same +good work. There was small reason, indeed, why they should not have +been at their best. School spirit was rampant; it was to watch them +that these cheering hundreds had crowded the field; every successful +jump, from the lowest height of all, was applauded to the echo. Ellis, +as was expected, was the first to fail, but he managed to clear five +feet, two, and added fifty-four points to his score. Dick, a little +handicapped by the strain of the preceding night, could feel that his +muscles were not quite at their best, yet his long period of careful +training had put him in good shape, and helped out by the excitement +of the competition, he finally cleared five feet, eight. Johnson did +an inch better, and only just displaced the bar at five feet, ten, +scoring seventy-seven points to Dick's seventy-four. The three +competitors were now practically tied, and volley after volley of +cheers rang out across the field from every section of the crowd.</p> + + +<table style="width:40%; margin-left:5%"> +<tr> +<td><span class="sc">Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>207</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Randall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>205</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>201</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="normal">The record was going to be broken, not by one man alone, but by all +three. So much was evident, and the crowd awaited the hurdle race with +the most eager expectancy. Dick ran first, and finished in seventeen +and two-fifths; Ellis, his heavy build telling against him, in spite +of his efforts, could do no better than eighteen, two, and then +Johnson electrified the crowd by coming through, true and strong, in +sixteen, four. His eighty-four points put him well in the lead, while +Randall's seventy-three gave him a clear gain over Ellis, who, with +fifty-eight, now brought up the rear.</p> + + +<table style="width:40%; margin-left:5%"> +<tr> +<td><span class="sc">Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>289</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Randall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>278</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>259</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="normal">And yet, in spite of the score, Hopevale was jubilant. For the one +remaining event was the hammer throw, where Ellis was supreme, and +here they expected to see their champion wipe out his opponents' lead, +and finish a winner, with plenty to spare.</p> + +<p class="normal">Each contestant was allowed three throws, and on the first round it +seemed as though the predictions of the home man's admirers were +coming true. Johnson threw one hundred and twenty-two feet and seven +inches; and then Ellis, taking his stand confidently inside the +circle, made a beautiful effort of one hundred and fifty-nine feet. +McDonald figured hastily in his score book, and came up to Randall. +"Don't be scared, Dick," he said, "one hundred and forty-five feet, +and you'll still be ahead of him. And that's only a practice throw for +you now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. And yet, although he kept his own counsel, he knew only +too well that the worry and anxiety of his long night's captivity +were at last beginning to make themselves felt. His head felt heavy; +his legs weak; he doubted whether he could make the hundred and +forty-five. And then, taking his turn, his worst fears were realized. +He made a fair throw, indeed, staying well inside the circle, but +there was little dash behind it, and when the scorer announced, "One +hundred and thirty-eight eleven," Dick knew that Ellis was in the +lead.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the midst of the Hopevale cheering, Johnson took his second throw, +and improved on his first trial by a couple of feet. McDonald shook +his head. "He's out of it," he said. "A great little man, too, but not +heavy enough for all-round work. It's you or Ellis, now, Dick. Johnson +won't bother either of you for first."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick nodded. Ellis made ready for his second throw with the greatest +care. There was little to criticize in his form. And backed by his +great strength, the hammer seemed scarcely more than a toy in his +hands. As the missile went hurtling through the air, the cheers +redoubled. Even from the spectators' seats it was easy to see that he +had bettered his previous try, and soon the scorer shouted, "One +hundred and sixty-five feet, one inch."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald whistled. "He's a good man with the weights," he admitted +with reluctance; then figured again. "Dick," he said, "you'll have to +get in one good one. You've got to fetch a hundred and fifty feet, if +you're going to win. Don't stiffen up now. Keep cool, and think it's +only practice. You've done it for me. You can do it now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick walked forward, and picked up the hammer for his second try. Out +from the grandstand came the Fenton cheer, and then, at the end, his +name "Randall, Randall, Randall!" thrice repeated. Where other +stimulants would have failed, this one was successful. Dick felt his +muscles grow tense as steel. He thought of Putnam, and the race on the +river. "Be game," he whispered to himself, under his breath, and +stepped forward into the ring, his brain clear, his nerves under +control. Once, twice, thrice, he swung the hammer around, his head, +and then, with splendid speed, turned and let it go. Clearly, he had +improved on his former throw. The measurers pulled the tape tight, and +then the announcer called, "One hundred and forty-nine, three."</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald calculated hurriedly; then gave a little exclamation of +astonishment. "A tie," he cried; "that puts you just even, and one +more throw apiece. Three hundred and forty-seven points each. A tie; +that's what it is."</p> + +<p class="normal">Near Ellis' side stood a slender, dark young man, who had watched +Dick's appearance on the field with an expression of utter amazement. +Although the day was warm, he had worn, all through the games, a long, +loose coat, of fashionable cut, and now he crowded closer to Ellis' +side. "Pick it up, when I drop it, Dave," he whispered. "It's your +only show. You can't beat one hundred and sixty-five without it."</p> + +<p class="normal">A moment later he walked away. And Ellis, stooping, put his hand on a +hammer apparently identical with the two which had been so carefully +weighed and measured before the games had begun. He held it +uncertainly, as if not overjoyed at his burden. Once he turned, and +looked imploringly at the man who had spoken to him. The man frowned +back at him savagely, and Ellis sighed, as if persuaded against his +will.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now Johnson made his last throw. He tried desperately, and +improved his record to one hundred and thirty feet. But his chance was +gone, and he knew it, taking his defeat gamely enough, with a smile +and shrug of his shoulders. He had done his best; it was not good +enough; that was all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ellis; last try," called the clerk of the course. Ellis walked +quickly forward, and got into position. Dick, watching him, seemed to +see a new power and skill in the way in which his rival swung, and +when he delivered the weight, Dick felt his heart sink like lead. Out, +out, it sailed, as though it would never stop. Hopevale was cheering +itself hoarse. It looked like a record throw. And finally the +announcer, scarlet with excitement, cried, in the midst of the hush +that followed his first words, "Mr. Ellis throws one hundred and +seventy-three feet, eight and a quarter inches, a new record for the +league."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dick turned to McDonald, but McDonald was no longer at his side. He +was striding away down the field. The man who brought in the hammer, +after each throw, was just starting back with it, when a slight, +dapper fellow accosted him. "I'll carry that in for you," he said +pleasantly, "I'm going that way," and the man, thanking him, gladly +enough relinquished his burden.</p> + +<p class="normal">Face to face came the kind-hearted stranger and Duncan McDonald. +McDonald reached out his hand. "I'll thank you for a look at that +weapon," he said grimly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stranger looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald grasped the wire handle. "Just exactly what I say," he +rejoined. "You're a wise guy, Alec, but you're up against it this +time. Hand over now; I haven't forgotten old times."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young man forced a smile, and then, as McDonald wrenched the +hammer from his grasp, he turned and made off across the field, +swearing fluently under his breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">McDonald hurried back to where the judges were standing, arriving just +as Dick was making ready for his last try. "One minute, gentlemen," he +called; "I wish to protest Mr. Ellis' throw, and the hammer it was +made with. I don't believe the hammer is full weight."</p> + +<p class="normal">The chief judge looked indignant. "Mr. McDonald," he said, "this is +most unusual. The hammers were carefully weighed before the +competition began. And were found correct. In fact, both of them were +a trifle overweight."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you didn't weigh this one," McDonald insisted. "This one has been +rung in on you. I must ask you to weigh it, please."</p> + +<p class="normal">Somewhat grudgingly, the judge complied; then started in astonishment. +He was a partisan of Hopevale, but he was an honest man, and he knew +his duty. "Mr. Announcer," he said quickly; "say at once, please, that +there was a mistake in Mr. Ellis' last throw; that an accident to the +hammer will necessitate giving him another trial." Then, turning to +the officials, he added, "This is exceedingly unfortunate, gentlemen; +this hammer weighs but ten pounds and three-quarters. Does any one +know how it got here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No one answered, and Ellis stepped forward to take his last throw, +this time with a hammer of correct weight. His face was troubled; his +former confidence seemed lacking, and his try fell well short of one +hundred and sixty feet. And then Dick came forward in his turn. The +controversy over the light hammer had given him just the rest he +needed; he made ready for his throw with the utmost coolness, and got +away a high, clean try, that looked good all the way. There was the +beginning of a cheer and then a hush, as the announcer called, "One +hundred and fifty-two, five."</p> + +<p class="normal">The cheering began again, yet the result was so close that every one +waited breathlessly for the official posting of the score. A moment's +delay, and then up it went.</p> + + +<table style="width:40%; margin-left:5%"> +<tr> +<td><span class="sc">Randall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>350</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Ellis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>347</td> +</tr><tr> +<td><span class="sc">Johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</span></td> +<td>334</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="normal">And then came the avalanche of wildly cheering spectators. Putnam, +Allen, Brewster and Lindsay were first at Dick's side, and it was on +their shoulders that he was borne across the field, a little overcome, +now that the strain was over, with everything appearing a trifle +dream-like and unreal, yet with three thoughts mingling delightfully +in his mind: that he had won, won in spite of obstacles, fair and +clean; that the Pentathlon shield was his, and best and most glorious +of all, that the challenge cup would come to Fenton--to stay.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus, through the shouting and the cheering, he was carried along in +triumph, and in the midst of it all, one other thought still came to +him--the best thought, perhaps, that can ever come to a boy's mind. +Hopevale Oval had vanished, and in spirit he was a thousand miles +away. "I wonder," he said to himself, with a sudden thrill of +happiness, "I wonder what they'll say at home."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE END</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Randall, by Ellery H. Clark + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK RANDALL *** + +***** This file should be named 38471-h.htm or 38471-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/7/38471/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Clark + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dick Randall + The Young Athlete + +Author: Ellery H. Clark + +Illustrator: Walter Biggs + +Release Date: January 2, 2012 [EBook #38471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK RANDALL *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=kh5WAAAAYAAJ + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + + +[Illustration: Dick stood dreaming, gazing across the yard] + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + _THE YOUNG ATHLETE_ + + + + + BY + + ELLERY H. CLARK + + + + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY + + WALTER BIGGS + + + + + INDIANAPOLIS + + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + PUBLISHERS + + + + + + + COPYRIGHT 1910 + + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + + + + + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + + + + + + TO MY NEPHEWS + + WELD ARNOLD + + AND + + ALLEN WILLIAMS CLARK + + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER + + I The New Boy. + + II Dave Ellis Breaks a Record. + + III Dick and Jim Go On a Shooting Trip. + + IV The Shooting Trip's Unexpected Ending. + + V Duncan McDonald. + + VI A Question of Right and Wrong. + + VII A Battle Royal. + + VIII On Diamond and River. + + IX Foul Play. + + X The Pentathlon. + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + + + DICK RANDALL + + + + + CHAPTER I + + THE NEW BOY + + +Fall term at Fenton Academy had begun. Dick Randall came slowly down +the dormitory steps, then stopped and stood hesitating, as if doubtful +which way to turn. Uncertainty, indeed, was uppermost in his mind. He +felt confused and out of place in his new surroundings, like a +stranger in a strange land. + +The day was dark and gloomy. The sky was overcast, and the afternoon +sun shone halfheartedly from behind the clouds. A fresh breeze bent +the trees in the quadrangle, scattering a shower of leaves about the +yard. In spite of himself, Dick felt his spirits flag. 'A' thousand +miles lay between him and home; and except for a few brief visits, +made close at hand, this was his first real venture into the world. +Unaccustomed to the change, unacquainted with his classmates, with the +steady routine of work and play not yet begun, he was wretchedly +homesick; and strive as he would, he could not keep his thoughts, +for five minutes together, from his father and mother, and the +white-walled farm-house on the slope of the mountain, looking down +over the valley and the meadowland below. He felt ashamed and +disgusted with himself, for he was no longer a "kid"; he was almost +seventeen, and big and strong for his age; and yet, fight it as he +might, the longing for home would not down. + +Thus he stood dreaming, gazing unseeingly across the yard, until +presently, with a start, he came to himself. A friendly hand smote him +between the shoulder-blades, a friendly arm was drawn through his, and +he turned to meet the somewhat quizzical glance of his classmate and +next-door neighbor in the dormitory--Harry Allen. + +Instinctively Dick smiled. He had sat next to Allen at supper the +night before and had taken a liking to him from the start. Allen had +chattered away steadily, all through the meal, yet his talk had been +unaffected, entertaining, and wholly free from any effort at "trying +to be funny" or "showing off." He was Randall's opposite in every +way--as slight and frail as Dick was big and broad-shouldered, as +light as Dick was dark, and apparently, at the present moment, as +cheerful as Dick was depressed. "Well, Randall," he asked, "what you +got on your mind? Composing a speech?" + +Dick flushed a little. "No, nothing like that," he answered; "I don't +know just what I was doing. Just thinking, I guess. You see--" + +Allen interrupted him. "Oh, _I_ know," he said; "I've been through it, +all right. You can bet on that. Don't I remember the first day I came? +Golly, I should say I did. Talk about a cat in a strange garret. Well, +that was little me. Don't worry, though. Just about three days, and +you'll think you've lived here all your life. It's a dandy school. +You'll find that out for yourself. And Mr. Fenton! Well, if there's a +better master in the state, I'd like to see him. Teach! I guess he +can. Languages, you know--that's his branch. He's got Latin and Greek +down fine. And English! Why, they say his English course is the best +thing outside of college. He starts away back with Chaucer--'well of +English undefyled,'--Spenser, you know, _Faerie Queene_--and he brings +us right down to Robert Louis Stevenson. Oh, it's great! No fellow +from this school has flunked English for ten years. How's that? Going +some?" + +He paused, a little out of breath. Dick smiled, finding something +humorous in the contrast between his classmate's breezy speech, and +the "English undefyled," for which his liking was so evidently +sincere. Yet he found Allen's talk acting on him like magic, and by +the time they had reached the end of the yard, his gloomy thoughts +were forgotten, and he was himself once more. + +To the left, they could see the boat-house, and the faint blue of the +river, just showing through the trees; to the right lay the athletic +field, and it was toward the track that Allen turned. + +"Come on," he said; "let's walk down and watch Dave Ellis. He's going +to try the Pentathlon. He's been training for it all summer. You met +him last night, didn't you?" + +Dick nodded. "Yes, I met him," he answered. He had sat opposite Ellis +at table, and had admired his rangy and powerful build. Yet something, +too, in his manner, had repelled him as well; Ellis had seemed a +little patronizing, with a trifle too much of the "Conquering Hero" +about him. So that now Dick hesitated for a moment, and then asked, +"Say, Allen, if it's a proper question, what sort of fellow is +Ellis? Doesn't he seem pretty--well, I don't know just what word I +want--pretty--cocksure of himself, somehow?" + +Allen did not answer at once, and when at length he did so, it was in +rather a guarded tone. "Well, you see, Randall," he replied, "I don't +believe I'd better say anything. Dave's a candidate for class +president next spring, and he's pretty sure to get it, too. Only--some +of the fellows have been sounding me to see if I cared to run, and if +I should, why, I wouldn't want you to think, from anything I said--" + +Randall's face was scarlet with embarrassment. "Excuse me, Allen," he +cried, "I didn't know. I didn't mean--" + +Allen hastened to reassure him. "Of course you didn't," He said; +"that's all right, Randall. I only thought I'd let you know. And as +far as that goes, there's really no reason why I shouldn't say what I +think about Dave, if you'll give me credit for being fair about it, +and won't think I'm trying to work any electioneering games. Here's +just what I think about him. I think Dave's a good fellow. And he's +certainly a remarkable athlete--one of the best, I guess, that we've +ever had in the school. All I don't like about him is, that he hasn't +much school spirit; I think he's for Dave Ellis first, and the school +afterward. But still he's all right, you know. He's a good enough sort +of fellow in most ways. One thing, though, he's got to look out for. +And that's his studies. He had a close shave getting by last year, and +I don't believe he's opened a book since school closed. Oh, Dave's all +right, but you'll find he's a good deal bigger man outside the lecture +room than he is in." + +Dick nodded. "I see," he answered; "and I'm much obliged, Allen, for +telling me about the election. I won't go putting my foot in it again, +in a hurry. I'll know enough after this to keep my mouth shut, till I +begin to get the hang of things. Ellis must be a dandy athlete, +though. I never saw a better built fellow in my life." + +Allen was quick to assent. "Oh, he is," he answered. "He's a corker. +He's six feet one, and weighs a hundred and eighty pounds. He's +awfully good on the track, and he pulls a fair oar, and I guess he's +the best full-back we ever had in the school. _Was_ the best fullback, +I mean. You knew we'd cut out football, didn't you?" + +"Yes," Dick answered, "I heard about it. Was a fellow really killed, +Allen?" + +His companion nodded. "Yes, Faulkner, of Hopevale," he said. "It +happened in the Clinton game. It was an awfully sad thing, too. His +whole family had come on to see the match. It happened in a scrimmage. +He was picked up unconscious. But no one thought it was really +anything serious. They took him to the infirmary; pretty soon he was +in a fever; went out of his head; and two days later he died. Injured +internally, the doctors said. So of course we cut out foot-ball, and +I'm glad of it, too." + +Dick drew a long breath. "That was tough!" he exclaimed. "Think how +his father and mother must have felt! And the master at Hopevale, too. +I suppose he considered himself somehow to blame, though of course he +wasn't, really." + +Allen shook his head. "No, of course it wasn't his fault," he +answered. "It was just one of those things no one could foresee. But +I'm glad they've stopped it, anyway. So now Dave's going to put all +his time into the track, because, you see, with foot-ball off the +list, it makes the Pentathlon more important than ever. This spring is +going to decide who wins the cup, and the way things look now, the +Pentathlon may settle the whole business. They've got a dandy +Pentathlon man over at Clinton--a fellow named Johnson--he won it last +year, and broke the record--made two hundred and eighty points--so if +Dave could beat him, it would be great for us, all right. I guess we +can tell something from what he does to-day." + +They walked on for a few moments in silence; then Dick, with sudden +resolve, turned squarely to his friend. "Look here, Allen," he said, +"I know you'll think I'm greener than grass, but I read somewhere, +once on a time, that if a fellow didn't understand a thing, he might +as well own up to it, or else he'd never learn at all. And that's what +I'm going to do now. I'm not up to date on school affairs. I don't +even know what cup you're talking about. And I don't know what you +mean by the Pentathlon. I suppose it's got something to do with +athletics, but if you hadn't said anything about it, it might be +something to eat, for all I'd know. So if you don't mind, I wish you'd +explain things to me, and then, perhaps, I won't feel quite so much +like a fool as I do now." + +Allen laughed. "Heavens," he said, "it isn't your fault, Randall; it's +mine. Here I go rattling on about everything, as if you'd been in the +school as many years as I have. No wonder I've got you mixed. Well, +now, let's see; I'll begin with the cup. No, I won't either; I'll +begin at the beginning; and that's with Mr. Fenton. Do you know +anything about what he did in college?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, I don't," he answered humbly. "I told you I +was green. We don't know much about athletics out our way. Unless +plowing, and getting in hay, and chopping wood count for anything. If +they do, we might have a show." + +Allen laughed again. "Well, they ought to, all right," he answered. +"What a bully idea for a Pentathlon! I'm going to speak to Mr. Fenton +about it. People couldn't say athletics were a waste of time then. +Well, to come back to _him_. He was a hummer when he was in college. +He was awfully popular, and he stood away up in his class, and they +say, in athletics, there wasn't anything he couldn't do. They wanted +him for the crew, and they wanted him on the nine, but he wouldn't do +either. I guess he didn't have any too much money then, and he told +them, straight out, that he'd come to college to work, and not for +athletics. He wasn't a crank, though; he took his exercise every day, +only he didn't waste any time over it. And finally the trainer of the +track team spotted him and got him to come out for the jumps. Golly, +but he surprised them. He never seemed to take such a lot of pains +about it, but I guess he was what they call a natural jumper. Anyway, +before he got through, he did six feet in the high, and twenty-three +two and a half in the broad. Perhaps that didn't hold them for a +while. So you can see he's a good man to be master of a school. He's +been through the thing himself, and he's got this whole athletic +business down fine. + +"I remember the talk he had with me when I first came to the school; +it made me take a shine to him right away. He doesn't lecture you, you +know, as if you were a kid; he talks to you just as if you were grown +up, and knew as much as he did; maybe more. Well, first of all, he +told me he didn't think any school could succeed where the master and +the boys weren't in harmony; and then he went ahead and gave me his +ideas on athletics. He said he liked them, and approved of them, and +meant to do all he could to encourage them--but that he was going to +keep them in their place. He said athletics were to help out lessons, +and not to hinder them; and that there wasn't any need of any conflict +between the two. But if there was a conflict, he said--if a fellow got +so crazy over athletics that he couldn't study--then the athletics +would have to go. And if that made the fellow feel so bad that even +then he couldn't study--or _wouldn't_ study--why, then it would be the +fellow himself that would have to go. But he meant that more for a +joke, I guess; nothing like that's ever happened since he started the +school. It's a pretty pig-headed fellow that can't get along with Mr. +Fenton. He's got a great way with him, somehow or other; I don't know +just how he does it, but he gets lots of fellows interested in +studying that you'd think were too lazy even to want to learn the +alphabet straight. Oh, I tell you, Randall, he's all right." + +Dick nodded. "I'll bet he is," he answered with enthusiasm. He was +beginning to feel the genuine _esprit de corps_; was realizing, for +the first time, that a school might be something more than a place +where one came merely to "do" one's lessons, and to learn enough to +enter college in safety. "Yes," he went on, "that sounds mighty +sensible to me. And as you say, Allen, where a man's been an athlete +himself, and a scholar, too, why, you can't help feeling a respect for +what he thinks about things. I can understand, though, about fellows +getting too much interested in athletics. I can see right now where +I've got to look out for that, myself. You've seen such a lot of it +here that you don't realize how it takes hold of a fellow that's never +had any show to go into them. I feel as if I'd like to try everything +in sight, if I didn't remember that my father's had to work good and +hard to send me here. And he wouldn't care much for cups and medals, I +guess. 'Book-learning,' that's what he wants to see me get. Still, I +suppose there's time for studying and athletics, too, if a fellow goes +at it right." + +Allen nodded. "Oh, sure there is," he answered. "And don't get the +idea, from what I said, that Mr. Fenton's a crank about it, or that +he's the preachy kind, because he isn't. He's keen on physical +culture, you know. A fellow's got to take his exercise every day, +whether he's a star athlete like Dave, or the worst grind that +ever wanted to swallow a Greek dictionary, roots and all. Oh, Mr. +Fenton likes exercise, only, as he says, there's a happy medium +everywhere--in athletics, just as in everything else. He doesn't want +the fellows to underdo; and he doesn't want them to overdo; and he +keeps an eye on every boy in the school. He takes just as much pride +in having the fellows in good shape physically as he does in having +them go into college with honors; and I tell you we don't have much +sickness around here. So you needn't worry about exercise; there's no +reason why you can't try anything you want. And I should think, to +look at you, Randall, you'd make a crack-a-jack at something. How much +do you weigh? A hundred and sixty?" + +His companion's build, indeed, fully justified his admiration. Randall +was strong and sturdy, from much hard work in the open, absolutely +healthy, and as rugged and active as a young colt. It was small wonder +that Allen, himself a member of the track team, looked him over with +an appreciative eye. + +Dick flushed with pleasure. "I weigh a little more than that," he +answered. "About a hundred and sixty-eight, I guess. That's nothing, +though. Think of Ellis." + +"Oh, well," returned Allen, "weight isn't everything." Then added, +with a smile, "You wouldn't think, to look at me, Randall, that I had +any pretensions to being an athlete, now would you? As the song says, +'I'm as thin as the paper on the wall.' I hardly disturb the scales +when I weigh myself." + +Dick looked at him. "Why, I don't know," he answered frankly, and +half-doubtfully, "but I should think, somehow, you look as though you +could run pretty well." + +Allen laughed. "Good guesser," he rejoined. "You've hit it, first +crack. I don't mean, of course, that I'm any good, but running's the +only thing I can do anywhere near well. It took a lot of hard work, +too. I was certainly a lemon when I started in. But last year I won +the quarter in the school games, and I got third in the big meet. So I +won my 'F', and that makes a fellow feel good, you know. Shows he's +done something for the school." + +Dick looked puzzled. "Won your 'F'?" he questioned. "What does that +mean, Allen?" + +"Why," answered his friend, "if you make the crew, or the nine, or the +track team, you get an athletic suit and a sweater. And on the shirt +and the sweater there's a big 'F', and a little 'A' on each side of +it. A. F. A.--Fenton Athletic Association. The crew fellows get a +white sweater, with the letters in red; the nine have gray sweaters, +with red letters; and the track team have red sweaters, with the +letters in white. And if you're on a winning crew, or a winning nine, +you can rip off the 'A. A.' from your sweater, and that leaves just +the big 'F', and shows you're a point winner for the school. With the +track team, it's a little different, because there it's more a case of +every fellow for himself. You can't have the same kind of team work +that you can with the nine and the crew. So when the big meet comes +for the cup, no matter whether the school wins or not, if you get +first, second or third in your event, then you're a point winner, and +you've got a right to your 'F'. Now, do you see?" + +Dick nodded. "Sure," he answered, "I've got that all straight; but now +there's another thing I don't understand. What's the big meet? And +what's the cup? You were going to tell me about the cup when we +started, and then we got switched off on to something else." + +Allen smiled. "I guess 'something else' was Mr. Fenton," he said. "I'm +pretty apt to talk people to death about him. I think he's a corker, +and I don't mind saying so. I'd rather have him think I was all right +than win my 'F,' ten times over, and that's putting it pretty strong, +too. Well, about the cup. That's a cinch to explain. It's just like +this. There are three schools, you see, right around here, in a kind +of ten-mile triangle. There's Clinton Academy and Hopevale and +ourselves. We've always had some sort of league with one another, in +all kinds of athletics, ever since the schools started, but six or +seven years ago the masters and some of the graduates got together, +and put things right on a systematic basis. Some rich old chap in New +York, who was a graduate of Hopevale, and had a couple of boys in the +school, donated a cup--a perfect peach--to be competed for every year +until one school won it three times and then it was to be theirs for +good. They put five sports on the schedule: foot-ball, base-ball, +track and crew, which counted three points each; and the Pentathlon, +which counted one. The school that won the most out of those thirteen +points held the cup for that year. + +"Well, Hopevale made a great start. They had some dandy athletes in +the school then--some folks were mean enough to say that was why the +old fellow in New York gave the cup--but anyway, however that was, +they won, hands down, for two years running. The next year they +thought there was nothing to it--they thought they couldn't lose--and +I guess they eased up a little, and didn't train quite so hard as they +did the other years. Well, they got a surprise all right, for Clinton +beat them out. They made six points that year, to four for Hopevale, +and three for us. And then, the year after that, Dave Ellis entered +school, and we had our turn. We got so, with Dave at full-back, we +never thought about the three points in foot-ball at all--we figured +them just like money in the bank--all we used to wonder about, was how +big the score was going to be. And then, in the spring sports, we had +Mansfield pitching on the nine, and Harrison stroking the crew, +and of course Dave came in strong again on the track. Oh, we had +things easy for the next two years. The second year we won all +thirteen points--made a clean sweep of everything. So _we_ began to +get cocky--same as Hopevale--but we never let up, you can bet; we +worked as though we thought we hadn't a show, unless we kept on doing +our darndest. + +"And then of course everything had to go wrong. Mansfield graduated +that year, and Harrison's father died, and he had to leave school; and +then this fellow Johnson came to Clinton, and he was certainly a find. +He and Dave had it out, hammer and tongs, in the track meet, and again +in the Pentathlon, and Johnson had the best of it both times. And +Clinton beat us by four points, and evened things up again. So you can +see what a scrap it's been, right from the start--it couldn't very +well have been closer--and you can imagine what it's going to be next +spring. Each school has won the cup twice, so of course this time's +got to settle it. Clinton has it all figured out that they're going to +win. They give us the crew, and Hopevale the base-ball, but they say +that with Johnson right they're sure to take the track meet, and +the Pentathlon, too. But of course no one can tell as far ahead as +that--it's foolish to try. Still, that's a pretty good prediction, I +think myself, unless Dave can show an improvement over last year on +the track. He says he can--he says he's been training all summer, and +that he's in the shape of his life. + +"I know what he's figuring on. If the three schools should be tied, +and it should all hang on the Pentathlon, why, the fellow who won that +would be a regular tin god, you know; he'd go down in the history of +the school like George Washington in the history of the country. And +Dave wouldn't mind being that fellow a little bit. Not that I'm trying +to knock him, you understand. That's a good, legitimate ambition. I'd +like to be the fellow myself; only I need a hundred pounds of weight, +more or less, and about a foot more height, before I'd fit in the +Pentathlon. And there's another reason for Dave's practising, too; he +wants to get back at Johnson. Dave can't take a licking, you know; he +isn't used to it, and it hurts. He claims he's going to square up this +spring, but I'm not so sure. Johnson's an awfully good man, and the +Pentathlon's no cinch for any one, no matter who he is." + +Dick, wholly absorbed in his friend's recital, drew a long breath as +Allen concluded. "By gracious," he exclaimed. "That is exciting, isn't +it? Suppose it did work out that way. Just think of it. To have it +hang on a single point, and then to have our school win--to have Ellis +beat Johnson. Oh, that would be great!" He paused a moment, and then +added: "Just tell me one other thing, Allen, and I won't bother you +any more. I've got everything else straight, but just what's the +Pentathlon, anyway?" + +Allen laughed. "I'm going to send you in a bill for private tutoring," +he said good-humoredly. "This is an awful strain on my mind, giving +you so much information free. And it would take a Philadelphia lawyer +to explain the Pentathlon straight. We go back a few thousand years, +just for a starter, to the days of the Greeks. 'The glory that was +Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome.' Edgar Allan Poe, Randall. +Ever read him? Ever read _The Haunted Palace?_ No? Well, you just waltz +into the library some day and take a crack at it. If I could write one +poem like that, I'd quit work for the rest of my life; I'd feel I'd +done enough. Well, never mind, that's not the Pentathlon, is it? I +need a muzzle, I think; that's the only trouble with me. Now, then, +reverse the power. Back we go, back to the Greeks. They had a kind of +all-around championship in their sports, you know; they called it the +Pentathlon. _Pente_, five; _athlos_, contest; five-event, I suppose +we'd say, now. First, I believe, it was running, jumping, throwing the +discus, wrestling and fighting; and then, later, they cut out the +fighting and put in the javelin instead. We've got the same kind of +thing to-day--the all-around championship they call it. Dave says he +means to try it some time when he goes to college. But it's too much +for school-boys, of course; it's ten events instead of five, and +there's a mile run in it and a half-mile walk. + +"So our Pentathlon is modeled on the Greeks. We have five +events, too: hundred-yard dash, sixteen-pound shot, high jump, +hundred-and-twenty-yard high hurdles and throwing the twelve-pound +hammer. You see, it's a pretty good test. You've got to have speed for +the hundred and the hurdles, and spring for the high jump, and +strength for the shot and the hammer. And something else besides; +skill for all five of them. The four S's, Mr. Fenton says, speed, +spring, strength and skill. He's a great believer in the Pentathlon; +says it develops a fellow all over; arms and legs, back and chest; the +whole of him. There's a dandy prize for it, too--a silver shield with +an athlete on it, going through all the different events. But the +scoring is the ingenious part; the man who thought that up was a +wonder. You see it isn't like regular athletics--it's more like a kind +of examination paper. Take the hundred, for instance. If you went into +the Pentathlon and ran the hundred in nine and three-fifths--that's +the world's record, you know--you'd get a hundred points; just the +same as if you answered all the questions right in an examination. And +then, at the other end, they set a mark so low that the smallest kid +in school could beat it; twenty seconds, say. That's the zero mark, +same as if you answered every question in the examination wrong. And +for every second, and fraction of a second, in between you're marked +according to what you do. + +"It's the same, of course, with the other events, so you _could_ make +a total of five hundred; theoretically, I mean. Of course, really, no +man ever lived--I don't suppose a man ever will live--who could be +fast enough to be a champion sprinter and hurdler, and strong enough +to be a champion weight man, and springy enough to be a champion +high-jumper--all at the same time. Johnson made the record last +spring--two hundred and eighty points--and that's awfully good for a +schoolboy. He isn't such a big fellow, either; I don't believe he +weighs much over a hundred and fifty; but he's fast--he can do a +hundred in ten-two, all right--and he's a good hurdler and jumper, but +he's not quite heavy enough for the weights. Still, Dave's got his job +cut out for him; there's no doubt about that. Well, here we are; and, +by gracious, we're late, too." + + + + + CHAPTER II + + DAVE ELLIS BREAKS A RECORD + + +While Allen had been speaking, they had reached the entrance to the +field; and as they passed the gateway in the high wooden fence they +could see Ellis, on the other side of the track, just getting on his +marks for the hundred yards. Ned Brewster, the captain of the track +team, stood behind him, pistol in hand. Farther up the track, at the +finish, were the three timers: Mr. Fenton, Doctor Hartman, the +physical director of the school, and Jim Putnam, the captain of the +crew. "Come on," cried Allen, and breaking into a quick run they +reached the farther side of the field, halfway up the stretch, +just as the pistol cracked, and Ellis leaped away into his stride. +They pulled up instantly to watch him. He seemed to run mainly on +sheer strength, paying little attention to form. As he flew past them, +Dick, gazing at him open-mouthed, was dimly conscious of a number of +things. He noticed that Ellis' face was contorted with the effort he +was making, and heard his breath coming in short, agonized grunts, +"ugh--ugh--ugh--" as he strove to increase his speed. The cinders +crunched sharply under his flying feet, and with a thrill of envy Dick +saw on his crimson jersey the big white "F" of the school. He felt +that Ellis was indeed a hero. "Golly," he said half aloud, "if I could +only run like that!" + +Allen, more skilled in estimating a runner's speed, and more critical +as well, showed little enthusiasm as Ellis, with a final effort, +breasted the tape. "I guess that wasn't much," he observed. "I don't +believe Johnson would worry a great deal if he saw that. Not better +than eleven, anyway, and I don't believe as good. Speed was never +Dave's strong point, you know. Let's find out how fast it was." + +They walked up to the timers. Ellis, jogging slowly back, shook his +head as he neared the group. "Slow," he said. "I knew it, all the way +down. Couldn't seem to get going. How bad was it, Mr. Fenton?" + +The master, a tall, finely-built man of middle age, with a pleasant, +clean-cut face, snapped back his stop-watch, then looked up at the +runner. "Why, it wasn't bad, Dave," he said cheerfully enough, "it's a +cold day for good time. No one could expect to do much on an afternoon +like this. You made it in eleven and two-fifths; all three watches +were the same. And that's not bad at all; it gives you sixty-six +points, to start with. Take your five minutes' rest now, and we'll try +the shot." + +Ellis nodded, and walked away into the dressing-room to change his +light sprinting shoes for the heavier ones, with extra spikes in the +heel, to be used in the shot put and high jump. Five minutes later he +came out again and walked across the field to the whitewashed circle, +took an easy practice put or two, and then made ready for his first +try. The doctor and Putnam stood by to act as measurers, with the tape +unrolled along the ground. Mr. Fenton stood near the circle, as judge. +"Remember now, Dave," he said, "only three tries. Make the first one +safe and sure, and don't forget to walk out the rear half of the +circle, or I shall have to call a foul." + +Ellis nodded, and at once made ready to put. Dick watched him +admiringly, as he stood motionless, his weight thrown well back on his +right leg, the toe of his left foot just touching the ground, the big +iron shot resting easily against his shoulder. All at once he raised +his left leg, balanced for a moment, and then sprang forward. The +instant his right foot touched the ground he brought his body around +like lightning, his right arm shot forward, and the big iron ball went +hurtling through the air, landing a good six feet beyond his practice +marks. Mr. Fenton gave an involuntary exclamation of surprise. "Well, +well," he cried, "you _have_ improved, Dave; that's excellent form; +and good distance, too. That must be thirty-eight feet, at least." + +The doctor held the tape against the inner edge of the toe-board; +Putnam, at the other end, pulled it tight, and bent critically +down over the mark left by the shot. Then he straightened up, +waving his arm, with a broad smile on his face. "Bully!" he shouted, +"thirty-eight, five and a half." + +Ellis laughed, well pleased. "I told you I'd improved, Mr. Fenton," he +said, "and I can beat that, too. I guess that's going to make +Johnson's thirty-four feet look pretty sick, all right." + +He seemed wholly unconscious of the disagreeable boastfulness of his +tone. Allen, however, threw Dick a significant glance, which seemed to +find a reflection in the rather grim expression on Mr. Fenton's face. +The master looked as though he wished he had withheld his words of +well-meant praise. "Perhaps, Dave," he said quietly, "Johnson may show +improvement, too. It's better to overrate the other man than to +underrate him." + +If he intended to throw any reproof into his tone it was lost on +Ellis, who seemed, indeed, scarcely to heed what the master was +saying. "Throw her back, Jim," he called to Putnam. "I'm going to get +her out for fair this time." + +Putnam rolled back the shot. Ellis grasped it, balanced as before, +knitted his brows, stiffened his muscles, and then, with every atom of +strength at his command, delivered it. The result was disappointing. +Something seemed lacking, and Putnam rose from making his measurement +with a shake of his head. "Not so good," he called. "Thirty-seven +nine." + +Ellis turned to Mr. Fenton. "That was queer," he said disappointedly. +"I thought I was going to lose it that time. Wonder what the trouble +was." + +Mr. Fenton smiled. "You tried too hard," he said. "That's one thing to +remember, Dave, in the shot. The more you grit your teeth, and brace +yourself for a great attempt, the worse you're apt to do. On your +first try you stood up to it naturally, with your muscles relaxed; but +on that last put your right arm was so rigid there was no chance to +get your body into it. Now make this next try like the first one; only +when you land from your hop, then come smashing right through with it; +put all your strength on, just in that one second, and we'll see if we +don't get results." + +Dick laughed to himself. Here, he thought, was a modern master with a +vengeance. What would the folks at home think of a teacher, renowned +for giving "the best English course outside of college," vigorously +telling one of his pupils to come "smashing right through" with a +sixteen-pound shot. And yet, while Dick smiled, he felt his respect +for Mr. Fenton in nowise diminished, but, indeed, rather increased, by +seeing him thus display his knowledge of track and field. For the +master, while always in friendly contact with his boys, never for a +moment overstepped the proper bounds of the relationship. He was a +hundred times more their friend, yet no whit less the master. Dick +could scarcely have reasoned it out, step by step, yet with +instinctive judgment, he found himself echoing Allen's words of a few +moments before, "Mr. Fenton's all right." + +Ellis, with a nod of comprehension, made ready for his third try. He +started slowly, and then, as the master had suggested, put forth all +his strength in one tremendous lunge. The effort was successful; the +put was a splendid one. Putnam hurried to the spot, measured with +care, and then triumphantly announced: "Thirty-nine, seven and a +quarter." + +Mr. Fenton nodded. "Very good, indeed," he said cordially. "This is a +fine start, Dave." He drew forth his note-book from his pocket, +calculated a moment, and then added: "Sixty-four points; that makes +one hundred and thirty, in two events. This looks like a record." + +With the trials in the high jump, however, Ellis' chances appeared +less favorable. Even to Dick's inexperienced eye, it was evident that +the big full-back was never cut out for a jumper. He ran slowly at the +bar, from the side, clearing it awkwardly, with very little bound or +spring. Mr. Fenton shook his head. "Still the old style?" he queried. +"I thought you were going to try running straight at the bar in your +vacation, Dave?" + +Ellis looked a little shamefaced. "Well," he answered, "I did try it, +Mr. Fenton, but I couldn't seem to get the knack, so I dropped it. It +didn't come natural, somehow." + +The master smiled. "How long did you keep at it?" he asked. + +Ellis considered. "Oh, quite a while," he answered. "A week, I guess, +anyway." + +Mr. Fenton's smile broadened. "I think I told you, Dave," he said, +"before vacation, that you mustn't get discouraged too soon. It's one +of the hardest things in the world when you've once acquired your form +in an event, to try to alter it. I know, in my day, I went through the +experience. And it took me six months before I began to reap the +advantage of the change. Here's a more modern instance, too. I was +talking only this summer with the best pole-vaulter at Yale, and he +told me that to change from the old-fashioned style of vaulting to the +new had meant, for him, nearly a year of steady, monotonous work, with +the bar scarcely higher than his head, before he felt satisfied that +the knack was so thoroughly a part of him that he couldn't miss it if +he tried. Then he put his knowledge into practice, and a thirteen-foot +man was the result. So a week wasn't so very long, comparatively, +Dave." + +Ellis shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I can't jump anyway," he +responded. "I'm going to get the agony over with. I'll have to make up +what I lose here in the hammer." + +The bar was raised, two inches at a time, until four feet ten was +reached. Here Ellis missed twice, and just managed to get over in +safety on his last try. He had plainly reached his limit, and at four +eleven made three disastrous failures. He shook his head ruefully. "I +can't jump," he repeated. "It's no good my trying." + +Mr. Fenton figured the result. "Forty-two points," he announced. "That +brings you up to a hundred and seventy-two. But if you'll practice +steadily at the other style, Dave, and not try to do too much at +first, until you've really learned the knack, you can jump three or +four inches higher, I'm sure. However, never mind that now. The +hurdles are next, and I think you'll make a better showing there." + +Putnam and Allen had been setting out the hurdles on the track. To +Dick, they looked terribly formidable. Ten of them in a row, each +three and a half feet high, placed ten yards apart, with fifteen yards +of clear running at start and finish. "Gracious," he thought to +himself, "how can he ever get over all those without tripping. This +Pentathlon looks like a hard proposition to me." + +Scarcely, however, had Ellis cleared the first hurdle than Dick felt +his enthusiasm return. It was all so different from what he had +imagined--the whole race was so pretty and graceful to watch. When +Putnam fired the pistol Ellis dashed away at full speed; then, +nearing the first hurdle, leaped forward, his body crouched, his legs +gathered under him, cleared it handsomely in his stride, and was off +for the next. Dick felt like shouting aloud, as Ellis swept down +toward the finish. Three strides between each hurdle, and then that +quick forward bound; Dick found himself catching the rhythm of it. +One--two--three--up! One--two--three--up! Ellis cleared the last +hurdle and flashed past the tape. + +The three timers consulted, then Mr. Fenton announced: "Eighteen four; +fifty-two points; that's a total of two hundred and twenty-four." He +figured for a moment with pencil and paper, then turned to Ellis, as +he came walking back toward the finish. "First-rate, Dave," he said. +"A hundred and forty feet with the hammer, now, and you'll beat +Johnson's total. Do you think you can do it?" + +Ellis nodded. "I can do that all right," he answered confidently. +"Just wait a minute, till I get my breath." + +A few moments later he had taken his position in the seven-foot ring, +and was preparing to throw. Dick looked with interest at the leaden +ball, with the slender wire handle, and the stirrup-shaped grips at +the end. "Is that what you call a hammer?" he asked. + +Allen nodded. "Sure, that's a hammer," he answered. "It is a kind of +misfit name, though, when you come to think of it, isn't it? They +really did use a sledge hammer, I believe, once on a time, but they've +changed it so much, you wouldn't think the kind they use to-day +belonged to the same family. Just watch Dave throw it, though." + +Ellis crouched slightly, extending his arms straight out from his +body. He swung the hammer around his head, once, twice, three times, +constantly increasing its speed; and then, at the third revolution, +spun sharply around on his heel and made his throw. It was a splendid +try. The hammer went sailing out, high and far, landing with a thud in +the soft grass half-way down the field. Dick's eyes kindled. "Oh, say, +Allen, but that was pretty," he cried. "That's the best event of all +of them. I wonder if he did a hundred and forty." + +There was a little delay over the measuring. Then Putnam put his +hand to his lips and shouted in across the field, "One hundred and +forty-two eleven." + +Ellis picked up his sweater. "I'm not going to take my other throws, +sir," he said to Mr. Fenton. "I don't think I could better that one +much; and as long as I've beaten Johnson's total, I don't care. I +think, when I get a good warm-day next spring, I can do twenty points +better, too." + +Mr. Fenton nodded. "I think you can," he answered. "It's too cold +to-day to do your best work. Everything considered, your performance +was excellent. If we can increase that high jump a little, you'll be +the next Pentathlon winner, unless Johnson shows great improvement +over last year. And I hardly think he will. His lack of weight is +against him for all-around work." + +Ellis, visibly elated, jogged back toward the dressing-room. Mr. +Fenton and the doctor started to leave the field. The boys who had +been looking on walked after Ellis, in a little group, discussing his +performance. Dick turned to Allen. "Any harm in my trying that shot?" +he asked. + +"No, indeed," Allen answered. "You've got just as much right as any +one else. Go ahead!" + +Dick, a little shamefaced, picked up the iron ball; stood, as nearly +as he could remember, in the same position he had seen Ellis assume; +made a cautious hop, and a slow and awkward put. Yet Allen, watching +where the shot struck, turned and looked curiously at his friend. +"Golly, Randall," he observed, "you must have some muscle somewhere. +There wasn't a thing about that put that was right, but it went just +the same." He paced back toward the circle. "Close to thirty feet," he +said. "That's awfully good for a fellow just beginning. Try another." + +Dick, secretly pleased at the impression he had made, determined to +give Allen a still greater surprise. Promptly forgetting what he had +heard Mr. Fenton tell Ellis, he braced his muscles, made a quick, long +hop, tried to turn, caught his foot in the toe-board, and measured his +length upon the field. Allen roared. "Oh, bully, Randall," he cried, +"I wouldn't have missed that for money. 'Vaulting ambition, which +o'erleaps itself.' That's you, all right. Didn't hurt yourself, did +you?" + +Dick, picking himself up, grinned a little ruefully, as he +contemplated the grass-stains which decorated the knees of his +trousers. "No," he answered; "I didn't, but I surprised myself a +little. I was going to show you something right in Ellis' class that +time. I guess I'll own up that's one on me. I'm going to try that high +jump, though. That's one thing I did use to do when I was a kid. I +don't believe I'll break my neck on that." + +They walked over to the jumping standards. "How high will you have +her?" Allen asked. + +Dick smiled. "Oh, I'm cautious now," he rejoined. "Put her at four +feet. Maybe I can do that, if I haven't forgotten how." + +Allen adjusted the bar. Dick backed away from the standards, measured +the distance with his eye, and ran down the path, increasing his speed +with his last three bounds. Then, easily and without effort, he shot +up into the air, sailed high over the bar, and landed safely in the +pit beyond. Allen gasped. "Good Heavens, Randall," he exclaimed; "what +have I struck? Why, man, you went over that by a foot. You've got an +awful spring." + +Dick laughed. "Well, I had to do something to make up for the shot," +he said. "But, honestly, it did feel good. I haven't jumped for a long +time, though I used to be pretty fair; or at least they thought so at +home. But that doesn't count for very much; it's a big world." + +While they stood talking, the door of the dressing-room swung open, +and Ellis came out, followed by two or three of his friends. As they +passed Allen turned. "Say, Dave," he called; "did you hear about the +new Pentathlon champion?" + +Ellis stopped. "What's the joke?" he asked, not over pleasantly. + +Allen laid a hand on Randall's shoulder. "It isn't any joke," he +replied; "Randall here. He's just been beating all your marks. You +won't have a show with him by next spring." + + +[Illustration: Dick looked vengefully after Ellis] + + +He spoke banteringly, but any allusion to a possible rival always had +a sting for Ellis. He looked Dick over from head to foot; then slowly +smiled. "Guess he'll have to grow a little first," he said cuttingly, +and turned on his heel. + +Two or three of his followers laughed. Dick felt his face grow red. +"Confound him!" he muttered. + +Allen's grip on his shoulder deepened. "Don't you mind," he said +consolingly. "That's Dave, every time. Only one toad in his puddle, +you know. But you wait. If I know anything about athletics, you'll +show him something some day." + +Dick looked a little vengefully after Ellis' retreating figure. The +athlete's words and tone both rankled. "If I could," he said slowly, +"I'd like to--mighty well." + + + + + CHAPTER III + + DICK AND JIM GO ON A SHOOTING TRIP. + + +Two months of the fall term had come and gone; Thanksgiving Day was +close at hand. Dick stood in front of his locker, dressing leisurely +after his practice on the track, and chatting with Jim Putnam, the +captain of the crew. Athletics were uppermost in their talk. They +discussed everything in turn--the arguments, pro and con, for winning +the cup; the chances of the crew, the nine, the track team; the rival +merits of Dave Ellis and Johnson for the Pentathlon; then all at once +Putnam abruptly changed the subject. "Oh, say, Dick," he remarked; "I +was going to ask you something and I came pretty near forgetting it. +What about Thanksgiving? You're not going home, are you?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, it's too far," he answered. "I'm going to +wait till Christmas. I suppose, though, most of the fellows do go +home." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes," he answered, "it's so near for most of them, +they can do it all right without any trouble. I guess you and I live +about as far away as any two fellows in the school. But I was +thinking--as long as we're going to be here--I've got what I call a +bully good scheme. Did I ever tell you about the lake, away up north +of the village, where they get the ducks?" + +Dick shook his head, his interest at once awakened. "No," he answered; +"I didn't know that there were any ducks around here, Jim." + +"Well, there are," returned Putnam; "but most people don't know it. I +didn't get on to it until last spring. I was taking a tramp up through +that way in the spring recess, and I stopped at a farm-house for the +night. The folks were as nice as they could be. There's a young fellow +that runs the farm, and his wife and three or four kids. Well, after +supper we got talking about the country around there and the lake, and +then he started telling me about the ducks. He says there are a lot of +them every fall that keep trading to and fro between the lake and salt +water, and that stay around, right up to the time things freeze. They +leave the lake at daylight and don't come back till afternoon. And +that's the time to shoot them. You set decoys off one of the points, +and make a blind, and he's got a dandy retriever that brings in the +ducks. He only shoots a few. He says he's busy about the farm, and he +lives so far away there's not much use gunning them for market. So he +just kills what he can use himself. But he told me any time I wanted +to come up, he'd give me a good shoot and I've been meaning to do it +all the fall; only the crew has taken so much of my time, I haven't +got around to it. It takes a day to do it right, anyway. + +"So I figured like this. First of all, we'll ask Mr. Fenton if we can +go; but that will be only a matter of form. As long as he knows we're +used to shooting, and are careful with our guns, he'll let us go all +right; that's just the kind of a trip he likes fellows to take. Then +we'll get word up to Cluff--that's the farmer, you know--that we're +coming; and then we'll hire a team down in the village and we'll start +Thanksgiving morning. It'll take us two or three hours to get up +there, and then we'll have dinner, and have plenty of time to get +everything ready for the afternoon. Cluff's got decoys, and I suppose, +as long as it's Thanksgiving, he'll go along with us, and see that we +get set in a good place. Then we'll have the afternoon shooting, and +we can get supper there, and drive home in the evening. It's full +moon, so if it stays clear it'll be as light as day. How does that +strike you, Dick? Are you game?" + +"Am I game?" repeated Randall. "Well, I should rather say I was. I +haven't fired a gun for a year. They laughed at me at home for packing +away my old shooting-iron in the bottom of my trunk; but I'll have the +laugh on them now. I do certainly like to shoot ducks. What kinds do +they have here, Jim?" + +"Why, Cluff says there are lots of black ducks," Putnam answered; "and +pintails, and teal. And some years, if there comes a good breeze +outside, they have a flight of blackheads and redheads. Oh, if what he +said was so, I guess we'll get some ducks all right. Let's make a +start, anyway. I vote we go and see Mr. Fenton now." + +They found the master in his study, and were forthwith questioned and +cross-questioned, with good-natured thoroughness, until Mr. Fenton had +satisfied himself that it would be safe to let them take the trip. +Then, as Putnam had predicted, permission was readily enough +forthcoming, though Mr. Fenton was frankly skeptical as to the amount +of game they were going to bring home. "I doubt the ducks, boys," he +told them smilingly; "but you'll have a fine time, just the same, no +matter how many you kill. And don't forget that I'm trusting you. Take +care of yourselves in every way. Don't shoot each other, and don't +fall into the lake; and be sure and bring yourselves back, anyway; it +won't matter so much about the ducks." + +With many promises of good behavior they left him and hastened down to +the village to hire their team and to send word to Cluff that they +would arrive in time for dinner, on Thanksgiving Day. All that evening +they talked of nothing but their plans; and that night, as Dick fell +asleep, he was busy picturing to himself the appearance of the lake, +seeing himself, in imagination, concealed upon a wooded point, with +the retriever crouching at his side, and a big flock of redheads +bearing swiftly down upon the decoys. So real did the scene become +that half-asleep as he was, he came suddenly to himself to find that +he was sitting bolt upright in bed, trying to bring an imaginary gun +to his shoulder. Then, with a laugh, and with a half-sigh as well, to +find that the ducks had vanished before his very eyes, he lay down +again, and this time went to sleep in good earnest. + +Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and bright, warm for the time of year, +with a fresh breeze blowing from the south, and a faint haze hanging +over the tops of the distant hills. By nine o'clock the boys were +ready at the door of the dormitory, guns under their arms, shell-bags +in hand. Shortly they perceived their buggy approaching, and Putnam +gave a shout of laughter at sight of their steed, a little, +shaggy-coated, wiry-looking black mare, scarcely larger than a +good-sized pony. As the outfit drew up before the door, Putnam walked +forward and made a critical examination; then turned to the driver, a +rawboned, sandy-haired countryman, with a pleasant, good-natured face, +and a shrewd and humorous eye. "Will we get there?" he demanded. + +The man grinned. "You worryin' about Rosy?" he asked. "No call to do +that. She's an ol' reliable, she is. Ben in the stable twenty-five +years, an' never went back on no one yet. Oh, she'll _git_ ye there, +all right, ain't no doubt o' that at all; that is--" he added, "'thout +she sh'd happen to drop dead, or somethin' like that. No hoss is goin' +t' live for ever; specially in a livery stable. But I'll bet ye even +she lasts out the trip." + +Dick laughed, though there was something pathetic, as well, in the +resigned expression with which the mare regarded them, as one who +would say, "This may be all right for you young folks, but it's a +pretty old story for me." "Well, I guess she won't run away," he +hazarded hopefully. + +The man shook his head with emphasis. "No, _sir_," he answered, "I +can't imagine nothin' short of a tornado and a earthquake combined, +would make Rosy run. But then again--" he added loyally, "she ain't +near so bad as she looks. O' course, she couldn't show ye a mile in +two minutes, but that ain't what you're lookin' for. Six mile an +hour--that's her schedule--an' she'll stick to it all right, up-hill +and down, good roads an' bad, till the cows come home. An' that's the +kind o' hoss you want." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, sir," he returned, as they stowed away the guns +in the bottom of the buggy, "horse or man--we're for the stayers, +every time. And if Rosy's been sticking it out for twenty-five years, +we'll see she gets treated right now. I guess she deserves it. All +aboard, Dick?" + +"Sure," Randall answered; then, turning to the man, "You'd better get +in behind. We'll be going pretty near the stable, so we might as well +give you a lift," and somewhat heavily laden they started, with light +hearts, on their journey toward the lake. + +They found their passenger decidedly communicative. "It's lucky for +you boys," he presently remarked, "that you ain't no older'n ye be. 'F +you were men, now, you might fairly be expectin' trouble, 'fore ye git +through town." + +Both boys looked at him with some curiosity. "Why, what do you mean by +that?" asked Putnam. "What's wrong in the village?" + +"Big row," the man answered, "over in the paper mills. They ben havin' +trouble all the fall, fightin' over wages, an' hours, an' most +everythin' else. They'd kind o' manage to agree, an' then, fust thing +you know, they'd be scrappin' again, wuss'n ever. They got a passel o' +furriners in there now," he added with contempt; "guess they think +they're savin' money employin' cheap labor. Mighty _dear_ labor, I +expect 't'll be, 'fore they git through with 'em. These dagoes an' +sich, a-carryin' knives--I do' know, I ain't got much use for 'em. My +opinion, ol' Uncle Sam would do better to have 'em stay home where +they b'long." + +He paused and spit thoughtfully over the side of the buggy, evidently +contemplating with disgust the presence of "dagoes an' sich," on New +England soil. + +"Well," queried Dick, "what's happened? Have they struck?" + +The livery man nodded with emphasis. "Surest thing you know," he +answered. "They went out yesterday, the whole gang, an' they ben +loafin' round the town ever since. Things look kind o' ugly to me. +'Cause the owners, they got their sportin' blood up, too, an' they +sent right out o' town for a big gang o' strike-busters, 'n they got +in this mornin'. So there we be; an' as I say, it's lucky you boys +ain't no older, or you might see trouble 'fore night. Well, guess this +is about as near th' stable as we'll come. Much obliged to ye for the +lift. Enjoy yourselves now, an' don't let Rosy git to kickin' up too +lively, so she'll run with ye, an' dump ye out in a ditch. You keep +her steadied down, whatever ye do." + +With a good-natured grin, he jumped from the buggy and disappeared in +the direction of the stable. The boys, driving onward through the +village, looked around them with interest. The state of affairs +appeared, as their friend had said, "kind o' ugly." Little knots of +dark-skinned foreigners stood here and there about the streets, +sometimes silent and sullen, again listening to the eloquence of some +excited leader, haranguing them in his native tongue, accompanying the +torrent of words with wildly gesticulating arms. As they turned into +the road leading to the north, a dark-browed, scowling striker at the +corner glared angrily at them as they passed, muttering words which +sounded the very reverse of a blessing. Putnam whistled as they drove +on. "Golly, Dick," he observed, "what did you think of that fellow? If +looks could kill, as they say, I guess we'd be done for now. I hope +they don't have a row out of it. Imagine running up against a chap +like that, with a good sharp knife in his fist. I guess it takes some +nerve to be a strike-buster all right." + +Dick nodded assent, but twenty minutes later, strikes and +strike-breakers were alike forgotten, as they left the village behind +them, and struck into the level wood road leading northward to the +lake. The change from civilization to solitude was complete. To right +and left of them, squirrels chattered and scolded among the trees; +chickadees bobbed their little black caps to them as they passed. +Farther back in the woods a blue-jay screamed; overhead, high up in +the blue, a great hawk sailed, circling, with no slightest motion of +his outspread wings. The road stretched straight before them, +narrowing, in the distance, to a mere thread between the wall of trees +on either hand. The wind blew fair from the south; old Rosy settled +down to the six miles an hour for which she was famed. Both boys +leaned back in the seat, extended their legs ungracefully, but in +perfect comfort, over the dashboard of the buggy, and then heaved a +long sigh of well-being and content. + +Dick was the first to speak. "Jim," he observed, "this is great. This +is what I call living. It's just as Mr. Fenton said; this is good +enough as it is if we don't get any ducks." + +Putnam nodded assent. "You bet it is," he answered, "but we'll get the +ducks, too. We'll surprise Mr. Fenton, if we can." He was silent for a +moment, then added, "Say, Dick, you've been here two months now. What +do you think of the master anyway; and what do you think of the +school?" + +Dick did not hesitate. "I think they're both bully," he answered +promptly. "At first I used to laugh at Harry Allen for the way he went +on about Mr. Fenton. I thought it sounded pretty foolish; but +everything he said is so. I can't imagine how any one could be much +nicer. It's just as Allen told me once--he doesn't preach, you know; I +hate the pious kind of talk like anything; but he's just--well, I +don't know--just so darned _square_ to a fellow, somehow. And then, if +you try to do anything yourself--just in little ways, I mean--you've +kind of got the feeling that he's on to it, right away. He never gives +you any soft soap, either, but if you're trying to plug along about +right, you've got a sort of idea that he knows it; and if you're up to +something you oughtn't to be up to, you've got just the same feeling +that he's on to that, too. It's hard to explain; it's just like--just +as if--oh, well, confound it, Jim, I can't put it into words, but you +know what I mean." + +Putnam nodded. "Sure I do," he answered; "and it _is_ hard to put into +words just the way you say. That was the reason I asked. I wanted to +see how it hit you, coming into the school new the way you have. But +it's so, isn't it? He never _talks_ about being good, or about doing +your duty, or any of that sort of thing--he only makes a speech once a +year, at commencement, and that's a short one. But I'll tell you what +I guess the secret is. I could never have expressed it--I'm not smart +enough--but my father was up here last year, at graduation, and I +asked him afterward, when we got home, what he thought it was about +Mr. Fenton that made every one like him so. He said that was an easy +one; that every man, who really made a success of his life, had two +things back of him. First, he was in love with his work, and second, +he had high ideals _about_ his work. And he said you couldn't talk +with Mr. Fenton for five minutes, without seeing what an interest he +took in his school, and in his boys, and that more than making +scholars out of them, or athletes out of them, he wanted to make them +into men. And I guess that's about what we were trying to put in +words, and couldn't." + +Dick thought hard; then nodded. "Well, I guess so, too," he answered, +and then, after a pause, "But now look here, Jim, if that's so, what +do you think about this business of class president? Because that's an +awfully important thing for the school. It shows people at graduation +the kind of fellow we want to put forward to represent the class; and +the honor sticks to him in college, and really, you might say, in a +kind of way all through his life. And you can't tell me that you think +Dave Ellis is the fellow Mr. Fenton would honestly like to see elected +president, now can you?" + +Putnam shook his head. "No, I can't," he answered; "but that isn't up +to Mr. Fenton, Dick; he never would interfere in anything like that. +And I'll tell you why. I met a fellow last summer who was quite +prominent here in the school four or five years ago. We got to talking +about different things and finally I told him about Dave and the +presidency. He said that the year he graduated there was a lot of +feeling in his class over the election and that finally some of the +fellows went to Mr. Fenton and asked him if he wouldn't use his +influence to try and get the right man in. He told them that was +something he couldn't do; that if school life did anything at all it +fitted fellows to meet some of the obstacles they'd have to run up +against later in their lives and that this was just one of the things +they would have to do their best to work out by themselves without +coming to him. And, of course, you can see, when you come to think of +it, that he was right. It's just like a republic and a monarchy; we +wouldn't want even as good a man as Mr. Fenton to rule us like a king. +It's his part to get as much sense into us as he can, and if he can't +make us smart enough to tell a good fellow from a bad one, why, that +isn't his fault. We've got to take the responsibility for that +ourselves." + +"Yes, I see," Dick assented; "but it's too bad, just the same, if we +elect Dave. Because he isn't in it with Allen as a fellow. Harry's +_white_ clear through. But it's funny about Dave. He's certainly got +an awful following; and I suppose he's dead sure to win." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, I think he is," he answered; "and really +you can't wonder at it, either. Athletics count for such a lot +nowadays--too much, I think--and somehow if a fellow is a star +athlete, that seems to blind every one to his faults. And then you +know what they say--that nothing succeeds like success. And Dave's +really done a lot for the school in an athletic way. And they all +think he'll be the big winner this spring; they think he'll land the +Pentathlon, and help win the track meet, and of course that all helps. +And then he's got that kind of a don't-give-a-darn manner. It jars a +lot of the fellows, of course, just as it does you and me, but then, +on the other hand, with a lot of the younger boys, it goes in great +style. I think they imagine it's just about the sort of air that a +really great man ought to have. It's funny to see some of them trying +to imitate it. No, Dave's got the inside track. + +"Allen's the better fellow, of course--Harry's about as nice as they +come--but I don't see how he can win. And it's queer, too, you know; +but his being such a corker in a literary way hurts him just as much +as it helps him. He doesn't mean any harm by the way he's quoting his +old poets all the time, but it doesn't go with the crowd. You know how +it is. If you don't know a thing, and the other fellow does know it, +and you have kind of a guilty feeling all the time that you ought to +know it and don't, why then you sort of square up with yourself by +getting to dislike the other fellow for knowing more than you do. +That's sad, but it's true. And yet, of course, as I say, right down at +the bottom, there's no comparison between the two fellows. Allen's as +fair and square as a die, and the most kind-hearted chap that ever +stepped, nice to everybody, big boys and small. And Dave--well, I +don't know. I wouldn't slander a fellow for anything, but I don't +think I'd trust old Dave very far. Did I ever tell you about Ned +Brewster and the daily themes?" + +Dick shook his head. "No, I don't think you ever did," he answered. +"What about it?" + +"Why," said Putnam; "it happened like this. There's an English course +in college, you know, where they have to write a theme every day. We +have the same thing here, for a month, second half year--English +Fourteen. Well, Ned Brewster was talking to a crowd of fellows one day +about a letter his brother had written him from college, telling quite +a lot about this daily theme business--all about the good ones, and +the funny ones, and a lot of things like that. Ned never thought +anything more about it, but a little while after that Dave came to +him, and asked him if he didn't think it would be an awfully good +scheme to get Ned's brother to have copies of all his themes made and +sent down to Ned, so they'd be all solid for that month of English +Fourteen. Bright idea, wasn't it?" + +Dick whistled. "Well," he ejaculated; "the mean skunk! What nerve! +What did Ned say?" + +Putnam grinned. "Not very much," he answered. "He told me he thought +at first Dave was joking, but when he got it through his head that he +was really in earnest I guess his language was quite picturesque. Dave +hates him like poison now, and it makes it hard for Ned, being captain +of the track team, you know, and Dave being the star athlete. It gives +Dave all sorts of mean little chances to try to make the fellows think +Ned isn't being square about the work, and all that sort of thing. You +know what I mean. He keeps grumbling all the time, and saying that Ned +shows favoritism to fellows he likes, and a lot of rot like that. And +it hurts, too, because there are always some fellows foolish enough to +believe it, and the first thing you know, you've got a split in the +class. However, we're none of us perfect, so I suppose we can't be too +hard on Dave. Maybe we can elect Allen, anyway. Something may happen +in the next six weeks. I know one thing, anyway; Dave's got to hustle +like a good one if he means to keep up in his work. I understand that +he's right on the danger line now, and the mid tears are always pretty +stiff, harder than the finals, I always thought. If he shouldn't pass, +he wouldn't be eligible for the presidency--and as far as that goes, +he wouldn't be eligible for athletics either. Wouldn't that raise the +deuce? I suppose the track team would crumple like a piece of paper +without Dave in the weights and the Pentathlon. Golly, though, that +reminds me, Dick. Ned Brewster says you're the coming man on the +track. Is that straight? Did you really do five six in the gym?" + +Dick nodded. "Well, yes," he answered; "I believe I did. Only once, +though. You know how it is. A fellow will get in a lucky jump, once in +a while." + +Putnam laughed. "Don't be so ashamed of it," he said good-naturedly. +"That's a corking good jump for any one. Some fellows go plugging +along half their lives, and don't get that high. Who can beat it, +besides Johnson?" + +Dick pondered. "Well, I can't think of any one," he said at last; +"still, there may be a lot of fellows I don't know about--" + +Putnam cut him short. "Oh, nonsense," he cried; "don't we get all the +gossip from the school papers, and from the fellows we see? Didn't we +know, the very same day, when Johnson broke the Clinton record, that +time he did five eight and a half? No, sir, you're good for second +place in the high, in the big meet, and that means your 'F.' What more +do you want than that? Your first year at the game." + +Dick was silent. Finally he said hesitatingly, "Well, Jim, I know I'm +a fool, but I'd like awfully well to have some show for the +Pentathlon." + +Putnam looked at him in amazement. "Well, for Heaven's sake!" he +ejaculated. "You don't want a great deal, do you? With Dave and +Johnson both in the game? Why, where would you fit with them, Dick?" + +Randall reddened a trifle. "Oh, well, probably I wouldn't," he +returned; "but you see, they've both got their weak points. Dave's +mighty good in the weights--I couldn't touch him there--but then in +the jump he's really poor, and in the hundred and hurdles he's no more +than fair. And Johnson's a great jumper, and a good man at the hundred +and hurdles, but he isn't up in the weights, by a long shot. I don't +mean," he added quickly, "that I think I can beat either of them now; +maybe I never can beat them; but they could be beaten, just the same, +easier than people think. It isn't as if either of them was so good +that you'd know right away it was no use tackling them; and I don't +know about Johnson, but I don't think Dave's going to improve a great +deal on what he did when school began. He's really pretty stupid about +athletics, just the way he is about books. He can't learn the knack of +that high jump, to save himself. No, they could be beaten, all right, +if a fellow could only get good enough." + +Putnam considered. "Well, maybe that's so," he doubtfully admitted at +last. "What can you do with the shot, Dick? And the hammer?" + +"I'm putting the shot around thirty-five," Randall answered; "but the +hammer is my weak spot. I can throw it pretty well from a stand, but I +can't seem to learn the turn. I can beat Ellis sprinting, though, and +I'm pretty sure I can beat him hurdling. But, of course, the hammer +and shot would make all the difference. Still, it doesn't matter, +anyway--the whole thing--as long as Dave can win for the school, only +I figured that since it was so close between him and Johnson, it would +be better for us to have two men training, in place of one. But I +guess it's only a dream, anyway; I've got to learn to throw a hammer +before I can make any sort of show." + +Putnam nodded. "Yes, that's so," he answered. "The Pentathlon's an +event where you've got to be pretty good at everything; you can't have +any one weak spot, where you won't score at all, or you might as well +stay out. Still, if you could get the knack with the hammer, I don't +see but what you really might have a chance, after all. I didn't +realize you could put a shot thirty-five feet. But for goodness' sake, +Dick," he concluded, "promise me one thing. If you get to be the best +that ever happened, _don't_ go and get a swelled head; I've seen that +so many times, where a new fellow makes good. It's natural, I suppose, +but awfully painful for his friends." + +Dick colored. "Of course I wouldn't," he replied with some +indignation. "I don't believe there's much danger of my getting +anywhere, in the first place; but even if I ever did, I wouldn't be +such a fool as that. There's no sense in it. Mr. Fenton gave me a +dandy book the other day--the best book I ever read--_Rodney Stone_. +There's a lot about prize-fighting in it, and it tells about Lord +Nelson, and Beau Brummel, and all about those times. But the +prize-fighting was the best. There's one chapter, _The Smith's Last +Fight_, why, I could feel the shivers running up and down my back, +just as if I'd been there myself. Oh, it was bully! And it comes in, +in the book, how every one of the champions, first and last, had to +meet his match. 'Youth will be served, my masters,' that's what one +old fellow keeps saying, and you can learn something from a book like +that, now I tell you. You can learn that no matter how good you are, +there's always some one that will beat you and the greatest athlete in +the world has to go down with the rest. But it's all right to try to +win, just the same. You want to turn out a winning crew just as much +as I want to see the track team win, but I don't tell you not to get +swelled headed. Come, now, isn't that right?" + +Putnam hastened to assent. "Oh, sure," he answered; "I was only +warning you; I didn't really believe there was any danger. 'And +speaking of the crew, Dick, I think, by gracious, we've got more show +than people imagine. Most of the fellows have an idea that Clinton's +going to win, because they made a fast time row this fall, but I'm not +worrying much over that. They only beat us half a length last year, +and we're seconds better now than we were then. This new fellow, +Smith, is a dandy at three, and Jimmy Blagden is twice the man he was +last spring. He was really the weak spot in the crew, but now he's as +good a bow as I'd want to see. So don't think your old track team is +the only pebble; you're going to hear from us, too. We want that cup." + +For two hours the talk flowed steadily along. Athletics, lessons, the +presidency, the ducks, all taking their turn. And then at last, a +little before noon, they passed the northern limit of the woods; the +lake lay bright and blue before them, and a half mile or so ahead, in +the middle of a sunny clearing, they beheld Cluff's farm. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + THE SHOOTING TRIP'S UNEXPECTED ENDING + + +Evidently visitors in this neighborhood were something of a novelty, +for there was quite a bustle of excitement as they drew up before the +door. Cluff himself came hurrying from the barn to meet them--a sturdy +figure of a man, ruddy and bronzed from constant toiling in the open +air. Colonel, the retriever, barked himself hoarse, trying vainly to +jump up into the buggy, his tail wagging in eager welcome. Cluff's +eldest boy, a tow-headed youngster of ten or eleven, came strolling +around the corner of the house, barefooted, clad in blue overalls, a +straw in his mouth, surveying them with critical interest. The +farmer's pretty wife appeared in the doorway, two of the younger +children peering forth shyly from behind her skirts. No greeting could +have been heartier. Introductions were soon made, and then Cluff +turned to his boy. "Now, you, Nathan," he directed, "take the hoss out +to the barn. And you boys, you come right into the house, and pretty +soon we'll have a bite to eat, and then we'll get started on our +cruise." + +Putnam could no longer keep from asking the momentous question. "How +about the ducks?" he ventured. + +The farmer grinned. "Ducks?" he echoed. "By golly, boys, you certainly +have struck it right. We ain't had a better flight for twenty years. +Lots of marsh ducks, and there's a big raft of redheads and blackheads +been trading to and fro, regular, for the last two weeks, and there +ain't nobody bothered 'em at all. Oh, you'll see plenty of ducks; +there ain't no doubt about that. Only question is," he added +humorously, "whether you can hit 'em or not. I ain't ever seen either +of you boys shoot, so I don't know. What kind of guns you got?" + +They produced them from the rear of the buggy. Jim's was a twelve +bore, hammerless; Dick's a more ponderous and old-fashioned ten-gage +hammer gun. At the sight of this latter weapon, Cluff nodded in +approval, but looked a little askance at the lighter of the two. + +"A twelve bore is good for quail and partridges," he remarked, "but +you need a ten gage for ducks. You want a big gun to stop those +fellers. A ten gage is what I use. Guess I'll put you over in the +marsh, Jim. You can do closer range shooting there. And I'll give you +my wading boots, so you can pick up your ducks yourself. 'Tain't deep +over there, and the bottom's good. Then we'll fit your friend on +Pebble P'int, and give him Colonel to fetch his ducks for him and I'll +go over across to t'other side of the lake, and fit there, near the +cove. That way, we'll keep the birds pretty well stirred up, and it'll +make better shooting for every one." + +An hour later, fortified with a good dinner of turkey and "fixings," +they shoved off from the beach at the easterly end of the lake, Cluff +and Putnam at the oars, Dick seated in the stern, and Colonel curled +comfortably up forward, on the heap of wooden decoys. + +Parallel with the course they were steering, a long strip of land +extended out into the lake, wide and well-wooded at its base, +narrowing gradually to the westward, and ending in the sloping pebble +beach that had given the point its name. Here Cluff backed the boat in +close to land, and set Dick and Colonel ashore; showed Dick how best +to conceal himself in the blind, half-raised, half-hollowed among the +stones; and then, unwinding the cord wrapped loosely around their +bodies, he threw overboard some twenty or thirty of the wooden redhead +and blackhead decoys, each securely weighted with a lump of iron, and +then, with a wave of farewell, again bent to the oars, and rowed off +down the lake. Dick made himself comfortable in the blind, and +whistled to Colonel, who crept in beside him, and curled up snugly at +his side. Dick heaved a sigh of satisfaction. "Now we're ready for +'em, old boy," he said, stroking the retriever's silky ears, "and I +suppose, if they come in, and I miss 'em, you'll despise me for the +rest of your natural life." + +Far down the lake, he watched the boat disappearing against the +outline of the western shore. In front of him, his little flock of +decoys dipped gaily to the breeze, looking so lifelike, that +half-closing his eyes, he could almost persuade himself that they were +really alive. He glanced at his watch. It was half-past two, and Cluff +had said that the flight would begin by three. Yet eager as he was, he +did not grudge the time he had to wait. It was pleasant lying there, +with the warm sun shining in his face; pleasant to listen to the wind, +as it swept through the tree-tops, and to hear the ripple of the tiny +waves against the smooth, clean gray of the beach, flecked here and +there with foam. + +Presently he could see the boat returning, with one figure only at the +oars, and he knew that Putnam must be safely tucked away among the +marshy sedges, at the other end of the lake. Cluff made for the cove, +a short distance to the south, set his decoys, dragged his boat up +into the bushes, and disappeared from sight. All was at last in +readiness. For the hundredth time, Dick looked at his watch. Five +minutes of three. And then, as he glanced up once more toward the +north, he shrank down still lower into the stand. A pair of ducks were +winging their way up the lake, heading almost directly for the spot +where he lay. He watched them eagerly, hardly daring to breathe, and +then, little by little, they swerved, flying closer to the water, and +finally passed, just out of reach, keeping on toward the cove where +Cluff was concealed. All at once, Dick saw them wheel, set their +wings, and sweep gracefully in toward the little flock of decoys. "Why +doesn't he shoot?" he wondered, "Why doesn't he shoot?" + +A puff of smoke leaped from the bushes; a dull report came down upon +the wind. One of the ducks towered straight into the air; the other +Dick could not see. Then, in a flash, the survivor crumpled up and +dropped headlong, motionless, into the waters of the lake. The second +report came borne across the water. Dick drew a long breath. "By +gracious," he murmured, "he can certainly hit 'em, for fair." + +The minutes passed. Then, from across the lake he heard, very faint +and far, the sound of Putnam's little twelve gage; and a moment later +he saw three ducks flying toward the cove. Would they decoy again? he +wondered. Would Cluff get another shot? They seemed to be coming +straight on-- + +"Whew--whew--whew--whew--whew--" came the whistle of flying wings; on +the instant he turned his head, and his heart jumped at the sight. +Unperceived, a flock of a dozen blackheads had come down along the +point, had swung in to him, and now were fairly hovering over the +decoys. Quick as thought, his gun was at his shoulder--Bang! Bang! +sounded the double report and one duck fell dead to each shot. Dick +felt himself trembling like a leaf at the suddenness of it all. +Colonel, awaiting the word, lay quivering at his feet, his eyes, +glowing like coals, fixed on the ducks, as they lay floating in the +water. "Fetch 'em out, old man," Dick cried, and like a shot, the +retriever was down the beach, breasting the waves, head and tail high +in air, like the sturdy veteran he was. One at a time, he brought them +in, and laid them proudly at Dick's feet; then once more crouched in +the stand, waiting until his chance should come again. + +Nor did they have long to wait. Now, far off in the northern sky, the +ducks began to come in a steady flight, flying singly, in pairs, and +in flocks of varying size. The marsh ducks, Dick noticed, made, for +the most part, straight down the lake, toward the point where Putnam +lay hidden in the reeds, and from time to time, the faint report of +his companion's gun came to him over the water, though at such a +distance that Dick could only guess at what luck he might be having. +It was different with Cluff. The cove was so near that Dick could keep +a rough account of the number of ducks falling to the farmer's share, +and it was seldom indeed that a flock swung into the cove, without +leaving one or more of their number behind. + +Dick's own aim was scarcely as good. He put a number of good shots to +his credit, stopping a pair of widgeon with one barrel, just as they +drew together in the air; again knocking three redheads from a flock +of five, passing at full speed overhead, without swinging to the +decoys; and twice scoring a clean right and left on blackheads as they +lowered handsomely to the blind. Yet his kills were offset by some +villainous misses, over which he could only shake his head dejectedly, +and turn away in shame from the reproachful glance of the retriever's +eye. Once, indeed, just at sundown, a flock of about fifty redheads +swung in, at just the proper range, just the proper elevation, just +the proper everything; and yet somehow, flurried by the magnitude of +the opportunity, he waited too long, sighted first at one bird, then +at another, and finally fired one ineffectual barrel, just as the last +bird in the flock was getting out of range. For a moment he almost +wept, and then found a crumb of comfort in the thought that only +Colonel was there to see, and that he could not tell of it, even if he +would. + +All too soon the sun sank behind the hills at the westerly limit of +the lake. Dick left the stand, walked around to relieve his cramped +muscles, and then counted up his bag. Eight blackheads, five redheads, +two widgeon, a black duck and two teal, eighteen in all. He stood +regarding them with pride. Now and again in the dusk he could hear the +whistle of passing wings overhead; once, halfway down the lake, Cluff +and Putnam, returning, fired at some belated flock, and with the +report of their guns two jets of living flame leaped upward against +the dark. A little later and he could hear the sound of their oars; +then presently a dim black shape loomed up ahead and Cluff's friendly +hail sounded through the gloom. "Well, son," he called, "I heard you +dottin' it into 'em. And I saw there was some that didn't get away. +How many did you kill?" + +"Eighteen," Dick called back, "and if I'd shot straight I'd have +killed forty. How many did you folks get?" + +"Jim got fourteen," answered Cluff, "and I scored up twenty-two. Guess +maybe Mr. Fenton's going to be a mite surprised. I told you we'd do +well. You just wait, now, till I take in these decoys, and we'll come +ashore and get you." + +They rowed home through the darkness and trudged up the path, +well-laden with their spoils, glad when the lights of the farm-house +gleamed cheerfully across the clearing, welcome enough in any case, +but now suggesting, as well, the thought of supper preparing within. +And what a supper it was! Just comfortably tired and hungry, the boys +made an onslaught on the fare which surprised even their host, +accustomed as he was to the demands of a healthy country appetite. +"Well, I don't know," he remarked at last, "I rather thought I had you +fellows beat on shooting ducks, but when it comes to putting away +turkey I guess you've pretty well squared up the count." + +By seven o'clock their horse was at the door, and putting in their +guns and their share of the game, they bade good-by to Cluff and his +wife, thanking them again and again for their kindness, and set out on +their homeward way. They were scarcely as talkative, after the first +few miles, as they had been on the way out, but sat in silence, each +living the day over again in his mind. Retrospect had taken the place +of anticipation, and their pleasure, while perhaps fully as great, was +of a kind more tranquil, and less keen. Perhaps, too, the spell of the +night quieted their tongues. The full moon rose high in the heavens, +putting the stars to rout, and lighting the long, straight road ahead +of them almost as clearly as if it had been day. And thus they jogged +steadily along in silence until they had traversed the greater part of +their journey home. Scarcely a sound had disturbed the quiet of the +drive. Now and again they heard the hooting of an owl; once a fox +yapped sharply, and in answer there came a distant, long-drawn chorus +of barks and howls, as if every dog within a dozen miles was giving +answer to the challenge. But of fellow-travelers, either driving or on +foot, they saw no sign until they had come within a mile or so of +town. Then Dick, half lulled to sleep by the steady, monotonous thud +of the mare's feet on the road, started up suddenly, rubbing his eyes, +for ahead of them he saw two shadowy figures, one tall, one short, +striding along the path in the gloom. "Look at those men, Jim," he +said. "I wonder what they're doing out here at this time of night?" + +As he spoke the figures rounded a bend in the path and disappeared +from sight. And then, before Putnam could answer, all in the same +breath, there arose ahead of them a quick, sharp outcry, the sounds of +a scuffle, and then a shrill and frightened scream, echoing wildly +through the silent forest, "Help! Help!" + +As quick as thought Putnam leaned forward, snatched the whip from its +socket and brought it down with all his force across the mare's +flanks. Old Rosy bounded forward under the blow and Putnam cried, +"Load up quick, Dick! Load up your gun!" + +It had been Randall's first thought. Even as Putnam uttered the words +he reached down, drew out the ten bore from under the seat, slipped in +two shells, and sat alert and ready, his body bent a little forward, +his weapon across his knees, as they sped forward, the buggy rocking +and swaying beneath them like a ship in a gale of wind. A moment later +they rounded the curve and Putnam, with a mighty jerk on the reins, +pulled the mare back almost to her haunches to avoid running over the +huddled group of figures fighting in the road. At the same instant +Dick leaped from the buggy and ran forward. + +[Illustration] + +A quick glance revealed the situation. One man was being attacked by +three others, while on the outskirts of the group a little boy +hovered, terror-stricken, still crying out for help. The man upon the +defensive was holding his own manfully. He was tall and active, and +made shrewd play with a stout cudgel, apparently his only weapon, +striving constantly to prevent his adversaries from attacking him in +the rear. Yet three to one was heavy odds; knives gleamed in the +moonlight; and while two of the attacking force advanced warily on him +the third was creeping stealthily around behind just as the boys +appeared on the scene. With a shout Dick leaped forward, discharging +his right hand barrel over the heads of the contestants as he ran. The +effect of his shot was well-nigh magical. On the instant the three men +broke and ran, diving into the bushes as if they knew the country +well. The tall man started to follow, fumbling vainly in his pocket as +he did so, then drew up with a suppressed cry of pain and turned to +his rescuers. "Much obliged," he said. "Just about in time, I guess; +they pretty nearly had me--" + +He broke off suddenly, lurching unsteadily toward the buggy. "Don't +know but what they've done me, now," he muttered. + +Dick could see that his face was deathly pale. "Here, Jim," he called, +"take him and the boy. Drive right in to the hospital. I'll get back, +all right; it isn't far--" He helped the man into the wagon and lifted +the boy in behind. Putnam gave the mare a cut with the whip and the +buggy shot forward toward the town. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + DUNCAN MCDONALD + + +On a Saturday afternoon, a fortnight after the shooting trip to the +lake, Dick Randall and Jim Putnam, on their way across the yard, came +face to face with Harry Allen and Ned Brewster, sauntering leisurely +over toward the gym. The day, although the month was December, was +warm and clear; the ground lay bare of snow; altogether it was an +afternoon when out of doors seemed far more attractive than in. + +Allen, halting them, struck an attitude, raised one arm, and started +to declaim. "Whither away, whither away--" he began, and then, as +Brewster planted a well-aimed blow in the small of his back, he came +abruptly to a stop. "Confound you, Ned," he said, "that hurt. Can't +you appreciate good poetry? I never saw such a fellow. Well, if I've +_got_ to descend to vulgar prose, where do you chaps think you're +going, anyway?" + +Randall laughed, and in a tone of exaggerated deference, answered, +"With your kind permission, Mr. Poet, we are 'whithering away' to the +rustic cottage of Mr. McDonald, leader of strike-breakers, who has now +recovered, and has been out of the hospital for some days. Mr. +McDonald has won his fight; the 'passel o' furriners,' as my friend at +the livery stable calls them, has been put to rout, and Mr. McDonald +wishes to have an opportunity to thank his gallant rescuers in person. +Isn't that what we are, Jim? Gallant rescuers? Of course we are." + +Putnam nodded. "Sure," he answered, "of course. At least you are. I +don't know whether I can qualify or not. I was driving the mare, you +know. But still, on the whole, I believe that took more courage than +fighting strikers. Oh, yes, we're heroes, all right, and we're going +down to be properly thanked." + +Brewster groaned. "My, but you're a chesty pair," he scoffed. "I don't +suppose you'd let two ordinary mortals come along and breathe the same +air with heroes, would you, now? Harry and I were just saying that the +gym doesn't seem to offer much attraction on a day like this." + +Randall bowed low. "My dear young men," he said, "if my co-hero, Mr. +Putnam, the gentleman on my left, has no objection, we will permit you +to go. I think that the sight of virtue rewarded would be a most +useful lesson to you both. Perhaps Mr. Tennyson here might immortalize +the whole thing in what he thinks is verse." + +Brewster mournfully shook his head. "Oh, this is awful," he said, +"we'll have to go with them, Harry. I wouldn't trust them alone, now. +They're so puffed up that one good gust of wind would blow them clear +away, and then we'd be minus our best high jumper, and our star +quarter miler. So come on and we'll look after them. It's hard on us, +I know, but it's our duty to the school." + +They left the yard, walked down past the track, and then struck out +straight across the fields on their long tramp. As they left the +school boundaries behind them Allen turned quickly to Dick. "Well, all +jokes aside," he exclaimed, "your friend's recovered, hasn't he?" + +"Yes," Randall answered, "he's all right again now. They hit him +a pretty good crack on the arm--broke a bone in his wrist, I +believe--and he had a nasty cut in the shoulder, and lost quite a lot +of blood. But they fixed him up at the hospital. It wasn't really +anything serious." + +"How did the boy come into it?" asked Brewster. + +"Why," returned Randall, "it was quite a story. The boy was a French +Canadian. His mother's dead and he was living alone with his father, +up north of the village. The father was one of the strikers, but I +guess he was rather a chicken-hearted kind of individual, for when the +strike-breakers arrived and things began to look squally he got out of +town, and left the little boy up there in the shanty, all alone. +McDonald was the head man among the strike-breakers, and in the course +of the evening he happened to hear about it and he said right away +that he was going up to get the boy. His friends told him he was a +fool to do it, but he said no one was going to bother him, anyway, and +if they did he guessed he could look out for himself. Well, the +strikers got wind of it and three of them laid for him when he was +coming back with the boy. He said it was the neatest ambush you could +imagine. He was on the watch for them, he thought, and he had a +revolver in his pocket, and yet he walked right into them before he +knew it. And I imagine he was having about all he wanted when we blew +along and pulled off the great rescue scene. So that's all there was +to that." + +It was a good hour later when they finally came in sight of the +cottage, standing by itself, far to the southward of the town. +Everything about the place looked neat and clean. There was no sign of +McDonald, but a little wisp of smoke curled upward from the chimney, +seeming to hang motionless against the still, clear air. Putnam turned +to Randall. "Think we've struck the right place, Dick?" he asked. + +Dick nodded. "Seems to answer the description," he replied, and then, +as they started to climb the fence surrounding the field which lay +between them and the cottage he gave a little exclamation of surprise. +"Why, for Heaven's sake," he cried, "talk about your track sports. +What do you think of that, now?" + +The others paused to follow the direction of his gaze. Sure enough, in +the center of the field, between them and the cottage, were a set of +high-jump standards, a take-off board for the broad jump, a shot ring, +and three or four circles for throwing the hammer. They walked hastily +forward, and then stopped, wondering, for, allowing for the necessary +roughness of the field, everything was arranged in excellent style. +Dick examined the ground in front of the standards with a critical +eye, then voiced his approval. "The fellow who fixed up this place," +he said, "knew his business. I believe, on a dry day like this, I +could jump as high here as I could on the field at home. Who on earth +do you suppose is interested in athletics around here? Couldn't be +McDonald, could it, Jim?" + +Putnam shook his head. "No, of course not," he answered. "A man who +works in a paper mill all day isn't going to bother to build a place +to practise jumping and throwing weights. Some of the boys from the +village, most likely, I suppose." + +They walked on across the field and knocked at the door of the +cottage. Immediately they heard footsteps within, and a moment +later McDonald himself appeared on the threshold. He was a tall, +active-looking man, splendidly proportioned, with a keen and +intelligent face. A slight pallor, and a little stiffness in the way +he held his left shoulder, were the only signs which he showed of his +recent encounter. + +"Come in, come in," he cried, "the whole of you. I'm glad to see you, +boys. I had considerable courage to ask you to come way over here, but +the doctor wouldn't let me walk to the school, and I wanted to see you +before I started back to work, to get a chance to thank you, fair and +square, for that night. I guess, if you hadn't happened along, I +wouldn't be here now. There isn't much I can do, I'm afraid, in +return, only to tell you that I shan't forget it, if I ever have a +chance to pay you back for what you did. And I thought--" He rose, +took from the mantel two small leather cases, oblong in shape, and +held them out to Randall and Putnam, one in either hand. "I thought +maybe you'd like to have these for a kind of souvenir--most young +fellows nowadays are interested in such things--perhaps, though, you +boys aren't--" + +The boys took the cases from his hand, pressed the spring which opened +them, and the next moment were gazing with delighted surprise at the +heavy gold medals within. At the same instant they read the +inscriptions upon them, and then, both at once, gave a gasp of +surprise, for the name, traced in tiny letters on the gold, below the +word "Championship," was that of the man who had been known, a dozen +years before, through the length and breadth of the country, as the +foremost athlete of his day. Both boys cried out in chorus. "Oh, +golly!" from Putnam; and from Dick, "_Duncan_ McDonald! Why, for +Heaven's sake! We never guessed--" + +There was a moment's silence; McDonald flushing a little under the +gaze of frank hero-worship which the four boys bent on him. And then, +to break the pause, "Yes, I'm Duncan McDonald," he said, "or what's +left of him. Not quite so spry, I guess, as when I won those, but I +still answer to the same name." + +There was another pause, until Brewster suddenly exclaimed, "Then +that's your athletic field out there. We were wondering whose it could +be." + +McDonald smiled. "Athletic field is rather a big name for it," he +answered. "It's a little place I fixed up so that I could go out once +in a while, on a Saturday afternoon, and throw weights, and jump, just +for the sake of old times. Why, do you boys care for that sort of +thing?" + +"Do we?" cried Brewster. "Well, I should say we did! You see--" and +for ten minutes he talked steadily, telling the story of the cup, the +Pentathlon, and everything else concerning the rivalries of the +schools. As he finished McDonald nodded. "I see, I see," he said. +"Well, that's a nice sporting situation, isn't it? Perhaps I could +help you boys out a little, after all. When the weather gets better, +along toward spring, if you would send your all-around man--Ellis, did +you say his name is--over here, I might be able to show him something +about his events. I'd be glad to try, anyway." + +"Oh, that would be great," cried Brewster, "that would help a lot, I +know. And we've another Pentathlon man right here. We think he'll be +almost as good as Ellis by spring. Stand up, Dick, and be counted." + +Randall laughed. "Don't talk about Pentathlon men," he said, "in +present company. I don't believe Mr. McDonald would see much hope for +me." + +McDonald eyed him critically. "Well, I 'don't know about that," he +said at length. "You've a good build for an all-around man. We all +have to make a start. No one gets to be a champion all at once. By and +by, if you like, we'll walk over to the field; I'll lend you a pair of +spikes and we'll see what you can do. How would you like that?" + +Dick's face was sufficient answer. "That would be fine," he replied. +"You're mighty kind to offer to do it." + +"Yes, indeed," chimed in Brewster, "it might make a big difference to +our chances. We'd like nothing better;" and then, suddenly changing +the subject, "Mr. McDonald," he asked, "if it isn't an impertinent +question, why did you give up athletics? You're not old yet; you must +be as good as you ever were. And I should think working in a mill +would seem awfully slow, after all the fun you've had." + +McDonald smiled. "Well, now, I know how it seems to you boys," he +answered. "I can remember just how it looked to me when I was your +age. But I'll tell you the honest truth. Athletics are a thing you +want to go into for fun, and not for money. If I had my life over +again, as the saying is, I'd stop right short where I turned +professional, and take up some good trade instead. But of course I +couldn't see it then. I was crazy about the game, and I had no money +to speak of, so it seemed to be a choice between quitting athletics, +or turning 'pro.' And I turned. But I've regretted it ever since. It +isn't a sensible profession, you see. It's a job where you're best +when you're young, and with every year that's added to your age, +there's so much of your capital gone. No, professional athletics don't +pay." + +The boys looked only half convinced. "But think," said Allen, "of all +you've done; and all the places you've seen. If I'd won championships +in half a dozen different countries I don't believe I'd swap with any +one." + +McDonald smiled again. "Oh, I did have a good time, when I was an +amateur," he replied, "but all the enjoyment that a fellow gets from +looking back on pleasant memories stops right there. After you've +turned pro, and are out for the stuff, the good sporting spirit is +knocked right out of the thing. You think every man who's competing +against you is a robber who's trying to take away your bread and +butter, and that spoils most of the fun, to start with. And then a man +can hardly make a living if he stays right on the square. There's +always a cheap crowd of betting men who keep after a fellow, trying to +get him to come in on some game that isn't quite on the level. They've +pulled off some funny things, too, first and last. + +"I remember one chap I knew who was a corking good shot-putter. He +joined forces with a couple of betting men and they certainly rigged +up a good plant. It was at a big fair in Canada. The two betting men +dressed as farmers, and then they fixed this fellow up in a blue +smock, and had him drive a cow into the fair. Oh, they staged the +thing fine; and when the shot-putting came off this fellow makes a lot +of talk about what he can do, and picks up the shot, and puts it +around thirty-three or four feet. Then the two betting men make a +holler, and work off a lot of farmer talk about 'that there feller +with the caow'--oh, they do it slick, all right--and that begins to +make fun, and pretty soon there's an argument started, and the two +farmers get excited and fumble around in their pockets and pull out +some old, dirty bills; and finally, there are so many wise guys in the +crowd looking to make an easy dollar, the money's all put up and +covered. + +"The farmers breathe much easier after that--the rest of it is just a +slaughter. The shot man plays the part, though, just to amuse himself. +He gets into the finals--they're putting around thirty-seven feet or +so--and then he makes a great holler about spiked shoes, 'them shoes +with nails in the bottoms of 'em' he says, and at last he pretends to +borrow a pair--which are really his own, that he has given to another +of the gang to keep for him--and he stamps around in those, and spits +on his hands, and goes though a lot of foolishness, and then steps +into the circle and drives her out. Forty-four, ten! And then there's +an awful silence in the crowd among the fellows who've bet their money +against the man with the cow, and they sneak away kind of quietly, and +here and there you'll hear one of them murmur to himself, 'Stung!' And +that's professional athletics for you." + +The boys had listened breathlessly. "Well," cried Allen, "that was a +pretty dirty trick, all right, and yet," he added with a chuckle, +"there's something funny about it, too. It isn't like taking in +innocent people. The other fellows were out to do the crowd they +thought were farmers, and they got about what was coming to them." + +McDonald nodded. "Oh, yes, it's diamond cut diamond," he said. "If you +bet on anything in this world, it's a good idea to get used to being +surprised. But the trouble comes in mixing up a nice, clean game like +athletics with such dirty business as that." He hesitated a moment, +and then went on, "But it's mighty little right I've got to preach. +I've done some things that I regret, and that I'd give a good deal to +have undone, if I could. Because when you're right square up against +it for your next dollar, or maybe your next dime, it beats all how a +man will juggle with his conscience to make a scheme seem right. I'll +tell you what I did once, away out west, if you care to hear." + +The boys' faces, without their eager assent, would have been enough to +tell him that he was speaking to listeners who could talk athletics by +the hour, with never a sign of weariness. And presently he began. +"This happened a good long time ago. It was in the fall of the year. I +was quite a ways from home, and I was discouraged. I'd made +application for a training job for the winter in three different +colleges, and I'd been turned down, for one reason or another, in all +three. It was early in September, just the time for the big fairs, and +though the weather was beautiful, there was a kind of frostiness about +the mornings that made me think of a cold winter coming back home, and +reminded me that I had just two hundred dollars in my clothes, and not +another cent in the whole wide world. It certainly seemed to be up to +me to make some sort of a play, and to make it quick, while I had the +chance. + +"There were three or four pretty good men around at these games, and a +lot of others not so good, but I wasn't particularly afraid of any of +them. I didn't have any great reputation then, to speak of; I'd only +turned pro a little while before; and I'd grown a mustache, and no one +knew me by sight or name. But I had been training all summer, and I +was right at the stage where any athlete, amateur or pro, has the +chance of his life to make a killing; when he knows just how good he +is, and nobody else in the world except himself does know. Well, I +worked things about as well as I could. I went into two good-sized +meets, under the name of Alan Stewart, and never won so much as a +third place. I managed to finish just short of the money in every +event I entered, and then, afterward, I mixed with the betting crowd, +and took pains to do a lot of cheap talking. I told them that when I +was really in form I was the greatest athlete who ever wore a shoe, +and that as soon as I got some money from home I was willing to back +up what I said. + +"Well, I contrived to make the crowd pretty tired. One of the leading +gamblers, a shrewd, wiry little chap, called me down one day in front +of the whole bunch. 'Young man,' he said, 'you talk a good deal, and +it wearies me. Don't you think, if you kept that mouth of yours shut +until you'd earned a dollar to bet on yourself, it would be a good +thing for every one, and make the town a pleasanter place to live in?' +That pleased the boys, but I pretended to get mad over it, and shook +my fist in his face. 'You think,' I said, 'that you can insult me, +because you've got money and I haven't; but you just wait; I've wired +home to San Francisco for some cash and I'll have it for the +Atlasville meet, and then my money'll talk as good as anybody else's.' +That didn't rattle him a mite. 'Well,' he came back, 'if it talks half +as loud as you do they'll know you're betting, away over in China,' +and that pleased the crowd more than ever. So, altogether, I had no +trouble in making a reputation as a conceited young fool--I've +thought sometimes, since then, that wasn't such a strange thing, after +all--and I kept under cover, and lay low for Atlasville. + +"It was a nice affair all right. There was a local weight man, a +fellow named Brown, who was really good; and Harry King, the high +jumper, who was making a regular circuit of the western meets, so +altogether it was a pretty classy field, and I had every chance in the +world to back my good opinion of myself. It was an old game, of +course, but I worked it for all it was worth. As I say, when it's win +out or bust, a man's wits are apt to move quicker than they do other +times. Among my different bluffs, I struck up a great friendship with +a fellow whom I knew to be hand and glove with the betting crowd. I +was sure he'd keep them posted on everything that happened, so I made +him my confidential friend--had him come out to watch me practice, and +told him what a wonder I was, and how I was going to get square with +the betting gang for giving me the laugh, and all that sort of thing. +Only everything that he saw me do, and everything I told him I could +do, was on sort of a mark-down scale. I told him, for instance, that I +was going to put the shot forty feet, and high jump five feet, eight, +and do the other events in proportion, and that I knew the rest of the +men couldn't come near those marks; and all the time I could see how +he was jollying me along, and laughing at me up his sleeve, for he +knew, of course, just what the other chaps _could_ do, on a pinch, and +it was bully fun for him to hear me go on about wiring for money and +betting on myself, and cleaning out the crowd, and such talk as that, +when he supposed, all the time, that separating me from my roll was +just like taking candy from a child. + +"So the time went by. Presently my money arrived, or I pretended to +have it arrive--as a matter of fact, I fished it out of my inside +pocket; and then I went out on a hunt for my gambling friends. I +couldn't get quite the odds I wanted--I still had to make a bluff at +being awfully confident of myself--but I did pretty well, on the +whole, for there were so many of them anxious to get a chance at me +that it wasn't a hard job, after all. I put the bulk of the money on +the shot and the high jump--I happened to be right at my best in both +of those events just then--but I had five or ten dollars on about +everything, and some of it at mighty long odds. Well, the day came. I +shall never forget it, one of those perfect autumn days, warm without +being hot, cool without being cold, if that doesn't sound like a fool +way of trying to describe it, and the whole county was at the games. +Oh, what wouldn't I have given for a thousand dollars, to keep company +with my two hundred, but I didn't know a soul in the place, and I +wasn't looking for any free advertising, either. So I let it go at the +two hundred. + +"I've had days before and since when I've felt good, but that +day--well, I was fit to compete for my life. I began the fun with the +hammer and broad jump; I kept it up with the pole vault, the caber and +the fifty-six; and I finished it with the high jump and the shot-put. +I'll never forget the look on my gambler's face when I got down to +work on my first try in the shot, and the man at the other end of the +tape called out, 'Forty-five eight and a half.' It was a study. And +the high jump. They couldn't believe, out that way, that there was a +man on earth who could trim Harry King. And he was jumping good, too. +We kept together up to six feet, but at six, one and a half, he failed +and I got over, on my second try. + +"Well, I raked in my prize money, and my bets--I'd cleaned up between +seven and eight hundred dollars, all told--and the next day I started +east. I was feeling pretty good till I'd got about ten miles from +town, and then I took the local paper out of my pocket and started to +read the sporting news. Right there was where my good opinion of +myself experienced a shock. For what should I find but a very nice +write-up on Mr. Alan Stewart, describing him as the most promising +young athlete yet seen in the West, and going on to say that as a +matter of local pride, it would be an interesting thing to see Mr. +Stewart matched for a series of events with Mr. Duncan McDonald, the +eastern champion. Just at first I laughed, and then I stopped and +began to think. And the more I thought, the less I seemed to fancy +myself. I never did a thing like that again, and I can tell you, boys, +once more, the pro game in athletics is no good." + +His audience had sat listening with the keenest interest. There was a +little pause and then Allen spoke. "Well," he said, "it was the same +principle, of course, as the man with the cow. But, somehow, I don't +think that was such a terrible thing to do. You weren't deceiving +innocent people. You were up against a crowd of gamblers who wouldn't +have had any scruples about doing you out of your money, and you +relieved them of theirs, instead. And I think," he added, "that the +part about matching you against McDonald was great. I call that really +humorous." + +McDonald nodded assent. "It did have kind of a funny side," he +admitted. "And I don't mean I felt ashamed of myself because I +considered it really a wicked thing to do, because I didn't. But look +here--well, it's hard to express--those two medals I gave you boys +to-day were won when I was an amateur, good and straight. There's no +taint to them. I was in the game then for the fun of it. And I +certainly liked athletics. I don't believe any man who ever lived +liked them better than I did. And so, to get mixed up in the pro +game, well, I felt the way I did once about a man I knew--a big, +fine-looking chap, brave as a lion--who served in the British army. He +got into trouble, no matter how, and disappeared, and I never heard of +him again for years, until a friend of mine ran across him down in +South America--a soldier of fortune, waiting for some little tuppenny +rebellion to come along, to put a job in his way. Well, you know, that +seemed bad to me--I didn't like to hear it--and so, about myself, I +felt as if getting into this betting game, and all that, I was kind of +disgracing my colors--you know what I mean--" + +The boys nodded in quick sympathy. McDonald rose. "Well, I'm getting +to be a regular old woman," he said apologetically. "My tongue's +running away with me. Let's step over to the field and try a little +athletics, for a change. Here's my outfit, in here." + +He threw open a closet door, disclosing upon the floor three or four +shots, two hammers, a fifty-six pound weight, several pairs of spiked +shoes--clear evidence that he still retained, as he had said, his +native love of the game. "Now, then," he said, "if one of you will +take a shot, I'll take the light hammer, and Randall here can pick out +a pair of shoes; then we'll be all right to start. Hullo, here's Joe." + +As he spoke, the door opened, and a little boy of nine or ten, dark +and swarthy, with big, wide-open, black eyes, peered into the room; +then, seeing the visitors, promptly dodged out again. McDonald +laughed. "That's the little fellow you heard yelling for help that +night," he explained. "No one seemed to want him, and his father +hasn't been heard from since, so I've kind of adopted him, for the +present. He's a good little chap, and smart as a steel-trap. But shy +as a squirrel when he sees strangers around." + +Once arrived at the field, McDonald proceeded to put Dick through his +paces. He watched him high-jump with great approval. "Good, man, +good!" he cried. "You've got an elegant spring, and a very nice style, +besides. I'll have you jumping fine, by next May." But over Dick's +shot-putting he was not so enthusiastic, and at the hammer-throwing he +shook his head. "No, no," he cried, "you haven't got the first +principles. You stand wrong. Your weight is wrong. You swing wrong. +You do everything wrong. Here, let me show you. I wish I dared throw, +myself, but I suppose I'd rip my shoulder open. Now look--" + +For ten minutes he explained, illustrated, had Dick throw, again and +again. And finally he good-humoredly gave it up. "I can show you," he +said. "But you've thrown the wrong way so long that it's going to be a +job. Let the hammer go, for the next month or two, and when spring +comes we'll go at it. I'll have you so you'll be throwing a hundred +and seventy feet. No reason in the world why you shouldn't. It's like +all the other things. It's knack--knack--knack--that counts. You've +got weight and size enough to throw it, and when I get the double turn +drilled into you we'll surprise some of these boys from the other +schools. You see if we don't." + +The afternoon shadows were lengthening across the fields as the boys +started on their homeward way. And all through the tramp their tongues +wagged ceaselessly of their new friend, his accomplishments, his +interest, the medals he had given his rescuers, and most of all, how +much his knowledge might mean to them, and to their chances in +carrying off in triumph the coveted cup. Truly, it had been an +eventful day. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + A QUESTION OF RIGHT AND WRONG + + +An air of gloom hung over the breakfast-room. Search as one might, up +and down the long tables, it would have been hard to find one smiling +countenance. Most of the boys were eating absent-mindedly, as if they +had small relish for their food; their foreheads were wrinkled and +knotted, as if their thoughts were far away. To any one at all +acquainted with school affairs, the trouble was not far to seek. The +first day of the mid tear examinations was at hand. + +Of all these troubled faces, perhaps Dave Ellis' was the most moody +and depressed. English Thirteen--how he dreaded it! He had sat up +almost all night, in defiance of the rules, stealthily flashing an +electric bull's-eye on his notes, and now, with aching head and jaded +nerves, he was paying the penalty. His brain was in confusion. Names +of books and authors sang themselves over and over in his mind. Now an +absurd, annoying jingle, "Fielding, Smollett, _Rich_ardson; Fielding +Smollett, _Rich_ardson;" and then, no sooner had he managed to stop +the monotonous refrain than off it went again, "Dickens, Trollope, +_Thack_eray; Dickens, Trollope, _Thack_eray." He groaned, turned +desperately to his cup of coffee, gulped down half of it at once, +scalded himself, and then--it was all of no avail--the tune began once +more. Suddenly, and without warning, he thought of another name, and +to his horror, everything connected with it had gone wholly from his +mind. He glanced despairingly across the table at Allen. "Harry," he +cried, "for goodness' sake, what school did Jane Austen belong to? And +what did she write?" + +Allen gazed gravely back at him. "Jane Austen?" he repeated. "Why, she +was the head of the Romantic school. She wrote _The Maniac's Deed_, +and _Tracked to his Doom_, and _The Bandit's Revenge_. She's been +called the founder of the Modern Romance--Old Sleuth, you know, and +Nick Carter--" + +Ellis had sat listening, his mouth a little open, his eyes troubled, +his whole expression a study in amazed bewilderment. Two or three of +the boys snickered, and at once he came to his senses. "Oh, shut up, +Harry," he cried, "that's an awfully dirty trick--to jolly a fellow +that way. If you felt as rotten as I do--" + +Allen relented. "Well, excuse me, Dave," he said, "but you know what +she wrote, just as well as I do, if you'd only stop to think. She was +the great realist. _Pride and Prejudice_, _Sense and Sensibility_, all +that list." + +Ellis' face cleared. "Oh, yes," he said hastily, "of course. +_Mansfield Park_, _Emma_, and some kind of an Abbey; I've got 'em all +in my notes. But what if it had come on the exam? I never would have +remembered it in the world. Confound English Thirteen. I'm going to +flunk; I know I am." + +With a sigh he returned to his half-finished breakfast. Then, looking +around him, "Pass the salt, Randall," he said, none too pleasantly. + +On Dick, himself in none too amiable a frame of mind, the tone jarred. +He paused, his hand on the salt-cellar. "Did I hear you say 'please?'" +he questioned. + +Ellis' face flushed. "Oh, don't be a fool," he cried, "if you had the +things to bother you that I have, you wouldn't be so particular. +Please--please--please--as many times as you like, only pass it, +anyway." + +Dick complied. "Well, you needn't make such a row about your hard +times," he retorted. "I can't see that you're any worse off than any +one else. These confounded mid-years. They put us all in the same +boat." + +Ellis scowled. "Oh, you don't know everything," he grumbled. "I guess +if you--" + +He pulled himself up sharply, and went on with his breakfast. Five +minutes later, as they filed out of the hall, Allen drew Dick to one +side. "Say," he whispered, "what's our friend Dave got on his mind? +He's awfully down in the mouth lately. Has he ever tried to borrow any +money of you?" + +Dick looked at his friend in some surprise. "Why, yes," he answered +rather unwillingly, "he has. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't have +any I could spare. Why, has he tried you, too?" + +Allen nodded. "Sure," he answered briefly, "and Steve Lindsay, and Ned +Brewster. I guess that's where the trouble is. He must be in some sort +of a money scrape, and that and the mid-years together have got him +feeling pretty blue. Anyway, it looks like that to me." + +Half an hour later the unfortunates who took English Thirteen +assembled in the upper hall. It was Dick's first examination of +importance since he had been in the school, and he felt extremely +nervous. His mouth was dry; his heart was pounding against his ribs. +To divert his mind he looked around the room to see where his friends +were seated. Brewster and Putnam were far away, across the room. +Lindsay was three seats to his right. Dave Ellis was in the next seat, +on his left, and Allen was stationed directly behind Ellis. + +The nine o'clock bell rang, and Mr. Fenton mounted the platform. "Now, +boys," he said cheerfully, "just a word, before we begin. This paper, +for the period which it covers, is fully as hard as the average of the +college entrance examinations. Yet, as a test, it is a perfectly fair +one, in every way; an honest attempt to find out how much you know of +the course. There are no catch questions, or anything of that sort. So +go to work in good earnest. Read the paper through from beginning to +end before you touch pencil to paper; don't lose your heads; take your +time in thinking out your answers. And if there are questions which +you _can't_ answer, they will at least show you where your weak points +are, before the final examinations next spring." + +A minute later, the last paper had been distributed. Dick read the +questions through, slowly and deliberately, as the master had +suggested, and then drew a long breath of relief. It was a "fair" +paper, as Mr. Fenton had said; none too easy, but to a boy who had +taken an interest in the course, and had kept up with references and +outside reading, one almost certain to be passed, and to be attacked +with real interest and enthusiasm. Allen and he had prepared for the +examination together, and Dick saw more than one question where his +classmate's devotion to his "old poets," as Jim Putnam called them, +was now to serve him in good stead. For the better part of an hour, he +wrote steadily; and then, with the easier questions out of the way, +used greater deliberation in answering those which remained. + +Once or twice, as Dick glanced up from his work, he noticed, half +abstractedly, that Ellis, on his left, was sitting always in the same +position, gazing straight before him at his paper, without writing a +word. And then, a little later, as he was about to begin on the +question next the last, a faint cough from his neighbor, three or four +times repeated, attracted his attention. He looked up from his book, +and the next instant a little ball of paper came spinning along the +bench, so well aimed that it stopped just at the left of his +examination book, lying almost within his grasp. Dick hesitated for a +moment, leaned forward a trifle, unfolded the pellet, and read. At the +top, three times underlined, were the words, "Help, please," and then, +underneath, "Who wrote _Barry Lyndon?_ When was Fielding born? Did +Trollope write _The Moonstone?_" Below each question Ellis had left a +little space for the answer. + +Dick felt himself flush, almost as if he himself had been detected in +something wrong. With a quick movement, he thrust the telltale slip +into his pocket; then waiting until he caught Ellis' eye, he frowned +slightly, shook his head in decided negative, and bent again to his +task. + +He finished the paper some twenty minutes before the time had expired, +re-read his answers with care, and made up his mind that no matter +what his mark would be, he had at least done as well as he could. He +sat back in his chair, and looked around him. Most of the boys were +still hard at work. And then, as his glance fell upon his neighbor, he +gave an involuntary start of surprise. Ellis was writing busily, as if +his very life depended on it, yet even as Dick looked, he saw him +pause, and tug gently at his left sleeve with the fingers of his right +hand. Gradually, he pulled a long slip of paper into view, studied it +carefully for a moment, then relaxed his hold, and the paper, +evidently fastened to an elastic of some sort, slid smoothly back +again out of sight. Dick looked quickly away, a feeling of disgust +overcoming him. He had heard of such things, but this was the first +time he had seen actual cheating taking place before his very eyes. +Ten minutes later the bell clanged, papers and books were gathered up, +and the test was over. + +The mid-years lasted for a week; at the end of that time the results +were made known. Dick did fully as well as he had expected. Out of a +total of seven subjects, he had one A, three B's, two C's, and one D. +Harry Allen topped the list with five A's and two B's; Brewster did a +trifle better than Dick; Putnam and Lindsay not quite so well. But the +surprise of the whole affair was Ellis' good showing. It was nothing +brilliant, compared with the records of the really fine scholars in +the class, but he did far better than any one had supposed he would +do, and in those subjects where memory played an important part, his +marks were fully equal to the average. Thus all doubts of his being +eligible for the spring games were removed, and Brewster, as captain +of the track team, heaved a sigh of relief that this anxiety was off +his mind. + +Dick found himself unable to share in Brewster's pleasure. The thought +of that strip of paper, and those cautious fingers pulling it gently +downward, rankled in his mind. He wondered what a fellow ought to do +in such a case. He ought not to tell tales, of course; that wasn't +right; and yet--it was such a downright, dirty trick on Ellis' +part--such a sailing under false colors-- + +And then, one morning, he found his perplexities increased. In the +excitement of the mid-years, he had forgotten another matter of +importance, and now, on the bulletin in the hall, appeared the notice +that in a fortnight the election for class president would be held. +Only two names were put in nomination--those of Dave Ellis and of +Harry Allen--and suddenly Dick felt his doubts increase. Ought he to +keep silence, after all? It was a mean thing to tell on a fellow--he +had always known that--but on the other hand, where could you draw the +line. If he saw a man commit a murder, he would certainly tell the +authorities. There was a duty in both directions, it seemed. And so he +thought and thought, until finally, on one rainy afternoon, he +gathered his four most intimate friends--Allen, Putnam, Brewster and +Lindsay--together in his room, and proceeded to unburden his mind. + +"Look here, you chaps," he began, "I want your advice. This is my +first year in the school, and the last thing I want to do is to butt +in, or to make a nuisance of myself. But I'm in a mix-up about this +business of class president, and I want to put the thing up to you +fellows, and see what you think of it. Of course, I'm with Harry, +as you all know, just as the rest of you are, but we're not the +school--I'm afraid, this time, we're not even a majority of the +school--and I suppose the chances are all in favor of Dave's getting +it." + +Allen nodded. "Sure thing," he replied, "I think I know the sentiment +pretty well. There are forty-two fellows in the class, who are +entitled to vote, and I should say that just about twenty-five were +for Dave, and seventeen were for me. Of course you never can tell, for +sure, until the last vote is counted, but I guess that's a pretty fair +estimate. What do you fellows say?" and he turned to Putnam, Lindsay +and Brewster. + +"That's about it, I think," Putnam answered, and the others nodded +assent. + +"Well, then," Dick continued, "here's the question. In the first +place, Dave Ellis isn't a fit fellow to be president of the class. I +know it, for a fact. A class president is supposed to represent the +school; it's really the highest honor the class can give; and the +fellow we elect, whatever else people might find to say about him, +ought at least to be square. Now, I'll admit that I'm prejudiced +against Dave, because he rather rubbed it into me when I came here +first, and it didn't make things any too agreeable, for a while. But +that's got nothing at all to do with what I'm telling you now. This is +something more than prejudice. Dave isn't on the square, and I can +prove it. He cheated in the English Thirteen exam." + +There was a chorus of surprised ejaculation. Allen alone said nothing. +And then Brewster asked, "How, Dick? Are you sure? That's a pretty +serious charge to make against a fellow, if you can't back it up." + +But Dick seemed in nowise disposed to retract what he had said. "Oh, I +can back it up, all right," he answered. "First, he threw me a note, +asking for help. And after that I saw him pull a paper out of his +sleeve--you know the kind I mean, the ones they fasten to an +elastic--and he was cribbing his answers from that. I saw him as +plainly as I ever saw anything in my life. I'd swear to it, on my +oath. There's no doubt of it at all." + +There was a long silence. Then Dick spoke again. "Well," he asked, +"what ought I to do? What ought we to do, rather? Because it's up to +you fellows now, just as much as it is to me. You represent the +element that stands right back of Mr. Fenton here in the school. +What's the best way to act? We can't go to Mr. Fenton, of course; that +would be a kid trick; worse than what Dave did. But oughtn't we to +tell the fellows? Isn't it only fair, if they want to elect him +president, to let them know first what kind of fellow they're picking +out to represent the class? Or ought we to go to Dave himself, before +we do anything else, and tell him that if he'll withdraw from the +election, and promise not to cheat again, we'll keep our mouths shut +on the whole thing? I don't know. I've thought about it a lot. People +always tell you to do what's right, but they forget to explain how +you're going to know what is right, and what's wrong. So I've come to +you fellows to help me out. Now what do you say?" + +There was a little silence before Brewster spoke out impulsively, "I +vote we tell the whole school. It isn't right that a thing like that +should happen, and a fellow get away with it. It's a downright dirty +trick, I think. I move we tell the whole crowd, right away." + +Putnam shook his head. "No," he objected; "that would be foolish. It's +the worst mistake you can make to blaze ahead too quick, before you've +figured out the things that may happen. Suppose Dave denies the whole +business, what then?" + +Dick's cheeks flamed. "Why, Jim," he cried; "you don't think I'm +lying, do you? You don't mean to say you doubt my word?" + +Putnam smiled. "Of course I don't, Dick," he answered. "I know you too +well for that. But I was thinking of what I've heard my father say, +when he's been talking about his law cases. 'Put yourself in the other +fellow's place,' is his great expression, 'and see what you'd do then. +That will help you in working up your side of the argument.' And +that's a good idea, isn't it, Harry?" + +Allen nodded. "Sure," he replied; "they do something like that in +literary criticism. 'Playing the devil's advocate,' they call it. +Which means thinking up all the possible objections any one might +make, and then going ahead and demolishing them. Yes, that's a good +principle to go on." + +"Well, then," continued Putnam, "here's what occurs to me. Suppose we +do as Ned says, and spread the story through the school. Some one of +Dave's friends will come running to him with it right away, and what's +Dave going to do then? What's to prevent him from saying that Dick is +lying--that Dick's a friend of Harry's, and that this is all a dodge +to get Harry elected? And if he does do that, then how does Dick +stand? Dave's got an awful following here in the school, and there are +some of the fellows, I'm afraid, who wouldn't care a great deal +whether he cheated or not. They might consider it was rather a brave +thing to try a dodge like that, and carry it through without the +master seeing him. And even the decent fellows, who wouldn't stand for +such a thing--what are they going to believe? It's Dave's word against +Dick's and if they believe Dave, it puts Dick in an awful hole. +They're going to say, 'Here's a new boy in the school, who's trying to +make all the trouble he can. And he picks out the best athlete we've +got, and tries to blackmail him. That's an awfully mean trick, and +we'll see that we make the school too hot to hold him?' What do you +say to that, Dick?" + +Dick looked a little staggered. "Well, I hadn't thought of anything +like that," he reluctantly admitted. "I hated to mix up in this thing +anyway; yet it didn't seem right to let it slide, without saying a +word. And if you go through the world on your principle, Jim, you'll +always be keeping quiet, unless you're sure you can prove what you set +out to prove. And there are times, I should think, even when you know +you're going down to defeat, where you would have to speak out, just +because it's the right thing to do. At least, I should think that was +what Mr. Fenton would say." + +Lindsay, usually a boy of the fewest possible words, spoke up quickly. +"You're right, Dick," he said. "This is too important a thing for us +to let go. Whether you get into trouble or not, isn't the point. It's +a question of our duty to the school. Let's get Dave in here, now, and +see how he acts. He may get scared, and own up to everything. If he +doesn't, then we can make up our minds what we ought to do next. What +say, Harry?" + +Allen had been unusually silent, although listening with the keenest +interest to all that was being said. Now he nodded. "I think that's a +good idea," he said. + +Lindsay rose. "Any objection?" he asked of the room in general. No one +answered, and he went out, and a few moments later returned, bringing +Ellis with him. + +If the boy who was about to be accused had any suspicions of what was +going to take place, he concealed them admirably. "Hullo, fellows," he +said; "what's this gathering for? Track team, or crew?" + +Lindsay, acting as spokesman, wasted no time in beating about the +bush. "It's neither, Dave," he said at once, "it's a meeting on the +class presidency." + +Ellis smiled. "Rather an Allen crowd, I guess," he remarked. "I don't +see what you want _me_ for. I'm going to vote for myself, I'll tell +you that now. So Harry needn't waste any politeness on me; he can vote +for himself, too, and then we'll be square." + +He had thrown himself back into a chair, perhaps a little too +elaborately at his ease. Lindsay spoke again. "We're not here in +Harry's interests, Dave," he said quietly, "we're here in the +interests of the school. We believe you have the better chance of +being elected president, but there's a matter that we should like to +have explained. We want the president of the class to be a fellow +above suspicion in every way, and we want to ask you whether it is +true that you were seen to cheat in the examination in English +Thirteen?" + +Ellis looked at him with well-assumed indignation. "I? Cheat?" he +echoed; "well, I guess not. Who the devil dares to say such a thing as +that about me? I'll punch his head for him." + +Lindsay turned to Randall. "Fire away, Dick," he said. + +Dick did not flinch, but looked Ellis squarely in the eye. "I was +telling these fellows, Dave," he said, "that I didn't think you were +the man to represent the class as president. I've told no one else, +but I've told them, in confidence, what you did in the English +Thirteen exam. That you first asked me for help, and then cribbed from +that paper up your sleeve--" + +He got no further. Ellis leaped to his feet, his face white with +wrath. "You liar!" he cried. + +Dick in his turn started from his seat, his face as angry as Ellis' +own. "Hold on," he cried sternly. "I don't like that word, Dave. You'd +better take that back." + +Ellis sneered. "Not by a long shot," he answered, "that's what you +are. And how you've got the nerve to start a story like that--" + +Dick drew a little piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to +the boy he was accusing. "You didn't pass me that in the exam?" he +demanded. + + +[Illustration: Ellis leaped to his feet, with wrath] + + +Ellis' denial was almost too ready. "Of course I didn't," he flung +back, "that's not my writing. I never saw the paper before. I never +cheated in an examination in my life. You're playing dirty politics, +Randall, to help Allen; that's what you're doing. But you can go +ahead. It won't hurt me. I'll tell the story myself, to every boy in +the school, and they can judge who's lying, and who isn't. You'd like +to see me in a scrape, I guess, so you might have a chance at the +Pentathlon, with me out of it. Oh, I'm on to you and your schemes--" + +He was storming on, half beside himself with rage. But as he uttered +the words, Allen looked quickly up at him, as if taking a sudden +resolve. "Just a minute, Dave," he said. His tone was quiet, but there +was that in his voice which made Ellis pause, half against his will. + +"Well?" he queried, "what have you got to say?" + +Allen turned to the others. "Fellows," he said, "this is a dirty +business--the whole thing. It makes me sick and disgusted to be mixed +up in it. But I've no choice now. I've kept my mouth shut, because, +since I was running against Dave, it put me in rather a queer +position, and I thought I'd better not speak. But now that Randall's +good name is brought into it, I'll tell you what I know. Dave did +cheat. I sat behind him in English Thirteen. I saw him write the note +and pass it. I saw him use the paper up his sleeve. And he worked the +same trick again in History Four." He swung around to Ellis. "Dave," +he said, "you have no right to be running for president, and you know +it. You'll withdraw right away, or I'll give this story to the school +myself. And one thing more. You're trying to make Dick Randall out a +liar. Dick's gone into this thing against his will and risked a chance +of getting into trouble, for the sake of the school. It was a plucky +thing for a fellow to do, and if you breathe one little word to +slander him, I'll do something that I wouldn't do in any other case +for anything under the sun. I'll go straight to Mr. Fenton with the +whole story. And you can take your chance on an investigation. Now +then, will you pull out, or not? You can have your choice." + +There was a tense silence. An utter change had come over Ellis' face. +He had the look of an animal hunted down. "You're mistaken, Harry," he +said at last, with an effort at composure, "you're mistaken, I assure +you. You don't understand--" + +His stammering sentences died away on his lips. No one spoke, and +presently Ellis seemed to make up his mind. He raised his head with an +expression of resolve. "Look here, you fellows," he said, "I don't +want to make any trouble over this thing. But there's something else +comes into it, that you don't know. I'm in a row over some money +I--lost--and if I don't get it pretty soon, I'm going to be in an +awful hole. I might have to leave school," he added craftily, "and +then I'd be out of it for the Pentathlon. Let's compromise this, all +around. I'll pull out of the presidency, and give Harry a walk-over, +and we'll let the business of the English exam drop. It will be the +best for every one. If I did anything I ought not to have done, I'm +sorry. I was doing it for the school, so that I wouldn't be cut out of +the spring athletics. Why don't you fellows, among you, raise me two +hundred dollars, and we'll let things go on, just as if nothing had +happened at all." + +The very effrontery of the proposal almost took away his listeners' +breath. Finally Allen spoke. "No, Dave," he said, "that isn't quite +the way we do things here. We don't buy our athletes. We want the cup, +all right, but we want it on the square. And if you cheated for the +sake of the school, I'll only say that's the most remarkable way of +showing school spirit that I've heard of yet. No, you will have to +withdraw from the presidency, and give us your word never to cheat +again. And if you'll do that, we'll let this whole matter rest. I +don't know whether that's the fairest way or not, but I think it is. +If you're not up for office, it's a private matter then, and one that +there's no need of publishing around. So it's up to you, Dave. Quit or +not. We'll meet you half-way, whatever you do." + +Ellis scowled, and bit his lip. He thought for some moments in +silence, then turned to go. "I'll let you know in two days," he said. +"You keep quiet till then, and so will I." + +He took his departure, leaving the group behind him busy with +speculations as to what he meant to do. Yet no one even dreamed what +his final decision would really be, and it came to them with a shock +of surprise and disgust. For two days later, they learned that Dave +Ellis had suddenly left school, and a week after that, Jim Putnam +burst quickly into Dick's room, where he and Allen sat studying. +"Golly, fellows," he shouted; "what do you think now? Dave's got it in +for us, all right. He's entered Hopevale, and I'll bet a dollar it +costs us the cup." + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + A BATTLE ROYAL + + +It was four o'clock on a bright, warm afternoon in early May. Mr. +Fenton, walking briskly toward the athletic field, stopped for a +moment at the entrance, to gaze at the scene before him. In the +ball-field, beyond the grandstand, the nine was playing a practice +game against the subs. The tennis courts were filled, and the track +and field men were putting the finishing touches to their afternoon's +work. Ned Brewster, captain of the track team, was standing by the +side of the high-jump path, and Mr. Fenton, as he crossed the field, +stopped for a moment to talk with him. "Well, Ned," he queried, "what +are our prospects? Will we draw first blood in the track meet next +week, or will Ellis' desertion cost us the games?" + +Brewster hesitated. "I don't really know, sir," he said at last. "A +week ago, I should have said that everything looked fine, but now I'm +not so sure. You see, Greenough's injury makes a big difference. I +think he would have been certain of the hundred, and would have taken +second in the two twenty, besides, but pulling that tendon puts him +out of everything. The doctor says he can't possibly go into the meet. + +"And then there's Dick Randall--I was never more disappointed in a +fellow in my life. A fortnight ago, he was coming fast--his friend +McDonald was simply doing wonders with him. Why, one Saturday +afternoon I went over there with Dick, and he was certainly in great +form. I measured everything myself, or really I could hardly have +believed it. He did five seven in the high, and he cleared the bar by +an inch and a half at that. He did twenty feet ten and a half in the +broad, on his first try, and McDonald told him not to jump any more-- +that that was good enough. And then he took his six tries with the +shot, and did thirty-eight three. McDonald told me that day that if he +could bring Dick up a little in the hammer, and if he'd get a little +faster at the hundred and the hurdles, that he'd give Ellis and +Johnson the fight of their lives in the Pentathlon. And then, just +when all he needed was a little improvement, instead of going ahead, +he started to go back, and he's been growing steadily worse ever +since. It doesn't seem to be his fault, you know; he feels more +disappointed about it than any one. He never sports at all, and he's +the most conscientious worker on the squad. But there's something +wrong. He isn't nearly so good as he was two weeks ago. You just watch +him now. The bar is only five feet four." + +Mr. Fenton looked on attentively, as Randall prepared to jump. There +seemed to be a nervous hesitancy about his style. He started twice on +his run before he could seem to catch step correctly, and even then, +he ran more slowly than usual, as if he lacked confidence in himself, +and rose awkwardly at the bar, without much of his former spring. Yet +even with these faults, the attempt was none the less a good one. His +body was higher than the stick, and he seemed, indeed, just on the +point of clearing it in safety; but the necessary momentum was +lacking, and despite his efforts, he fell heavily on the bar, knocking +it off for the third successive time. He walked dejectedly out of the +pit, and stood gazing at the uprights with wrinkled brow, as if +striving to figure out the reason for his failure. Mr. Fenton walked +over to him. "That was a good try, Randall," he said cheerfully. "A +little more speed, and you would have had it. How are you feeling +these days? Pretty well?" + +Dick paused a moment before answering. "Well, to tell the truth, sir," +he said at last, "I don't know what's got into me lately. I was doing +quite well, two weeks ago, but now I'm no good at all. My weight is +all right, and I feel all right, but I don't seem to have any ginger +about me. Why, a month back I should have laughed at five feet four; I +should have called that just a practice jump; and now today I try my +hardest, and miss it three times running. And I've gone back in the +broad jump--I can't do twenty feet now--and I'm not up to standard +with the shot, either. The hammer is the only thing I've improved +with, and I was so bad with that I couldn't very well have grown +worse. Taking everything together, I'm really doing about as badly as +a fellow could; and I don't see what the trouble is. I never practised +so hard; I never thought so much about my events; I'm really +discouraged." + +Mr. Fenton glanced him over critically, from head to foot. He seemed +worried and anxious, and while he appeared to be well up in weight, +and while his muscular development was better than ever, his color was +none too good, and his face looked somewhat drawn. Mr. Fenton gave a +little nod, like a doctor who diagnoses a patient's condition. "Well, +you look pretty well," he said, "but of course you've been doing quite +a lot of work. I should say, in the trainers' language, that you were +a little 'fine.' Why don't you take a rest, a complete rest, from now +until the day of the games?" + +Dick shook his head, without intending it, a little impatiently. "Oh, +I couldn't, Mr. Fenton," he answered. "There's so much to learn yet, +if I go into the Pentathlon. There's a knack I'm trying to work out in +the broad jump, and that confounded hammer does bother me so. I think +and think about it, and finally I imagine I've got the idea, and then +I go out the next day and practise, and find I'm worse than ever. Why, +one night, I even dreamed about it. I thought I threw it two hundred +and fifty feet, and broke the world's record. Oh, but it felt fine. I +was taking three turns, and spinning around like a top, and when I let +it go, it went sailing off as high as the roof of a house. So the next +morning I tried to remember how I stood in my dream, and how I swung +the hammer, and everything, and then I went out in the afternoon and +tried to put it all into practice and what do you suppose? I fouled +about a mile, and got all tangled up in my feet, and fell down, and +pretty nearly broke my neck; so I've lost all faith in dreams." + +Mr. Fenton smiled. "I don't blame you," he answered, then added, "How +have you been sleeping this last week or two, Randall? As well as when +you came here first?" + +Dick hesitated; then a little unwillingly replied, "Why, I haven't +been sleeping so awfully well. It seems to take me a long time to get +to sleep, to start with, and then I usually have some crazy nightmare +or other about athletics, and then I wake up with a jump about three +or four in the morning, and can't get to sleep again. But I feel all +right, just the same. I'm not sick, sir." + +Mr. Fenton laughed. "No, you look fairly rugged to me," he answered; +"but take a rest from now on, Randall. Don't do any more work +to-night; go in and get your rub; and forget all about athletics for a +while." + +Dick nodded, picked up his sweater, and jogged off across the field. +The master walked back to where Brewster was standing. "Well, Ned, +there's no mystery about your Pentathlon man," he said, "it's as clear +as day. He's going 'stale,' as the trainers say; he's been doing too +much work. I don't mean too much for his health. That's all right, or +the doctor would have notified me. But Randall's a fellow with nerves, +in spite of his strength. And he's lost just enough energy, with all +the work he's been doing, to take the edge off his speed and his +spring. You must tell him to quit, right where he is; to lock up his +spikes and his athletic clothes; and not to come near the track again +until the day of the games. If he will do that, you will have him +ready for the meet, in as good shape as he ever was in his life. I +feel sure of it." + +That evening Brewster went over the whole situation with Dick, and +gave him his orders, to be carried out to the very letter. Dick +promised to obey, and yet to keep from worrying was no easy task. The +whole school could talk of nothing but the coming games. Every one was +going around, with paper and pencil, figuring the final distribution +of the points. There were twelve events altogether; first place +counted five, second two, and third one; a total of ninety-six. School +spirit ran high, and no one figured in any other way except to give +Fenton the victory. Forty points was the favorite figure, and about +thirty each for Hopevale and Clinton. It was an interesting, if rather +unprofitable employment. And for Dick to keep out of the prevailing +excitement was next to impossible, especially when his schoolmates +would say, "We've got you figured for second in the high, Dick," or +"Do you think you can get third in the broad?" + +Again, the program of resting, and keeping away from the field, +worried him more than anything else. Accustomed as he was to his daily +exercise, his muscles, after the first day's lay-off, began to +stiffen, and lacking the experience to know that this was something +which would disappear with his rub-down, and his first trial jump in +the competition, Dick fretted over it as if it had been some serious +muscle strain. Yet somehow, the week went by, and the day of the games +came at last. + +It was a perfect afternoon, just pleasantly warm and still, with no +wind to trouble the distance runners on either stretch. The games were +scheduled for two o'clock. By one, the Clinton athletes had arrived; +shortly afterward, the Hopevale team put in an appearance; and by +half-past one the grandstand and the bleachers were filled, and the +boys were beginning to limber up on the track. Dave Ellis, with the +blue "H" of Hopevale on his chest, seemed in nowise embarrassed at +thus revisiting his old quarters, but came out to practise with the +rest, and put the shot well over thirty-eight feet in a preliminary +try. Shortly afterward, Dick had his first glimpse of Johnson, the +mainstay of the Clinton team. He was a good-looking, pleasant-faced +boy, who went about his "warming-up" so quietly and unobtrusively that +one would scarcely have selected him, at first, for an athlete of +prominence. Yet Dick, watching the play of his long, smooth muscles, +and noting how easily and springily he moved up and down the track, +knew that he was looking at a first-class man. + +Promptly, at five minutes before two, the clerk of the course came +hurrying across the field. "All out for the hundred," he called, +"hundred yards, last call. All out for the hundred." The games had +begun at last. + +Dick took his seat on the balcony of the dressing-room, and gazed out +at the animated scene. All at once it occurred to him that if he were +only a spectator, and not a contestant, he should be thoroughly +enjoying the whole affair. It was an inspiriting sight; the level +green of the field, the darker oval of the track, the grandstand, +bright with color; and now, walking slowly over toward the start of +the hundred, the six contestants, two from each team, each bound to do +his utmost to score for his school. He could distinguish Steve +Lindsay; the tall figure of Harris of Clinton, the favorite, +conspicuous in his striped jersey of red and black; and the figures of +the two Hopevale men, of whom little was known, with the light blue +"H. A. A." on their shirts. There was the usual warming-up, a word or +two of caution from the starter, and then his whistle blew loud and +shrill. There came an answering wave of a handkerchief from the spot +where the judges and timers stood grouped around the tape. + +In the hush that followed, Dick could hear the starter's voice sound +sharp and clear across the field. "On your marks!" The six figures +crouched. "Get set!" They bent forward, tense, expectant. And then a +puff of smoke from the starter's upraised pistol--"Bang!" and they +were off, to a perfect start. Dick's hands clenched; his eyes strained +to distinguish the entries from his school. For a moment the crowd was +silent, and then, as the first thirty or forty yards were covered, and +the runners began to separate and draw apart, there arose a tumult of +shouts and cheers, above it all the cries from Fenton, "Lindsay! +Lindsay! Lindsay!" It was true enough. Lindsay was ahead, a foot or +two in front of Adams of Hopevale, with Harris several yards behind. +At fifty yards it was the same--and at sixty--and then all at once +Harris seemed to settle to his stride. He drew up on the leaders with +a rush, at eighty yards was on even terms, and then, forging steadily +ahead, crossed the line a safe winner, with Lindsay just beating out +Adams for second place. In a moment, Dick could hear the scorer's +stentorian tones echoing over the field. "Hundred yards dash--won by +Harris of Clinton; Lindsay of Fenton, second; Adams of Hopevale, +third; time, ten and two-fifths seconds." And then, on the big score +board at the end of the field, the huge figures were hoisted that all +might see. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 5 2 1 + + +With the cheers of the Clinton delegation still ringing out on the +air, the runners came jogging back to the dressing-rooms, and the next +event--the hundred and twenty yards high hurdles--was called. Already +the men employed on the field were setting out the obstacles on the +track. There were but four entries, for Barker and Jones, the Hopevale +hurdlers, so far outclassed their field that Arnold of Clinton, and +Taylor of Fenton had been entered with no hope of first or second, but +merely to battle for the single point which would reward third place. +Yet the race displayed the uncertainties of athletics in general, and +of the high hurdles in particular; for while Barker, the winner of the +previous year, took the lead at the start, and was never headed, +Jones, his team-mate, loafing comfortably along in second place, got +in too close at the sixth hurdle, struck it heavily, staggered a few +steps, and plunged headlong into the seventh, bringing it down with +him to the ground. After this disaster, there was no hope of a +recovery, and Arnold took second place, and Taylor third, making +unexpected and welcome additions to the winnings of their schools. The +figures on the blackboard were shifted, and Clinton's lead was +reduced, while the Fenton score looked somewhat small beside the other +two. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 7 3 6 + + +So ran the totals, and even as Dick studied them, the clerk's cry +sounded quick and sharp, "All out for the quarter; all out for the +mile; all out for the pole vault, hammer throw, broad jump." Dick +started. For the moment he had almost forgotten that he was to compete +at all. Quickly coming to himself, he rose, picked up his spikes, and +made his way down-stairs and across the field. Just ahead of him were +Harry Allen, Jack Morrison and Jim Egan, the three Fenton entries in +the quarter, and Brewster himself, rated as sure winner of the mile, +came jogging up behind him, and fell into step by his side. "How's +your courage, old man?" he asked. + +"Oh, pretty fair," Dick answered, "we haven't made much of a start, +though." + +Brewster shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, never mind the hundred and the +hurdles," he said, "we didn't count on much there, anyway. But we'll +score big in the quarter, I think; and if I don't go to pieces in the +mile, we might get something there, too. You tear down at that old +take-off, now, Dick, and we'll rip those A's off your shirt for you +to-night. You get us a point, anyway." + +"I'll do my best," Dick replied, and an instant later he was answering +to his name, with the half-dozen other contestants in the event. +Stripping off his sweater, he took an easy practice jump, and as he +did so, a great load seemed lifted from his mind. He knew that he had +recovered his spring, and the excitement of the competition made him +feel that he could beat anything he had done in practice. "I guess Mr. +Fenton knew what was the matter with me, all right," he murmured to +himself. + +His name was the first called. He made his mark at exactly fifty feet +from the take-off, laid the sleeve of his sweater at the edge of the +path, and walked back another forty feet or so for his preliminary +run. He tried to remember all the instructions that McDonald had given +him, but in his excitement, he could think of little more than of +hitting his mark correctly, and of getting a good lift into the air. +"All ready," cried the scorer, "Randall, Fenton, first try." + +Dick stood erect, drew a long breath, and then, with muscles +tense and rigid, began his run. One--two--three--four--five--six-- +seven--eight--came his preliminary strides, and he sensed, rather than +knew, that he had brought the toe of his jumping shoe just even with +the sweater's crimson sleeve. And then, for the last eight strides, he +ran with every ounce of energy he possessed; bang, he hit the take-off +fair and square, and landed far out in the pit, his knees thrown well +in front of him. There was a ripple of applause from the grandstand, +and he knew that the jump must at least have been a fair one. He stood +waiting at the side of the pit, while the measurers did their work. +Then the man at the farther end of the tape straightened up, +announcing, "Twenty feet, six and one-quarter." + +Dick jogged back, well satisfied. The distance was nearly as good as +his best, and he felt confident of qualifying for the finals. Two or +three of the other contestants jumped in the neighborhood of nineteen +feet, and then Harding of Hopevale jumped twenty feet, three. No one +else equalled Dick's mark until Johnson's name was called. The Clinton +athlete stood waiting for the dirt to be raked over in the pit, and +Dick found himself, half against his will, admiring the Pentathlon +man's graceful, clean-cut build. He was an inch or two taller than +Dick, not so broad-shouldered or so muscular, but with that +indefinable stamp of the athlete, which for want of a better word, we +characterize as "rangy." As he started for his jump, Dick watched him +critically, noticing that he ran hard, with his knees lifted well into +the air, and then, as Johnson struck the take-off, and leaped, he gave +a little gasp of surprise. Here was form, indeed, beside which the +efforts of the others appeared as nothing. This was no mere run from +the board; it was a real jump. Johnson shot into the air, feet in +front of him, sailing along like a cannon ball. Instantly, the +grandstand burst into a shout of applause. From the Clinton section +came a continued burst of organized cheering, and the announcer threw +an extra impressiveness into his voice as he shouted, "Mr. Johnson +jumps twenty-one, three and three-quarters." + +Johnson came walking back, a smile on his face. Dick accosted him +good-naturedly. "That was a dandy," he said. "You can have this event, +I guess. You won't have to jump again." + +Johnson took the other's speech in good part. "Oh, I don't know," he +answered, sitting down at Dick's side and drawing his bath-robe around +his knees. "You can't ever tell till the last man's had his last try." +Then, after a little pause, he added, "Are you going to try the +Pentathlon, Randall?" + +Dick nodded. "I think so," he answered, "though I don't expect to do +much against you and Ellis. Still, I guess I'll give it a try, anyway. +There doesn't seem to be any one else to represent the school. But if +I can't win," he added, "I tell you, right now, I hope you give Ellis +the worst licking he ever had in his life." + +Johnson nodded. "I know just how you fellows feel about Ellis," he +said, "and I don't blame you a bit. A chap that will leave his school +in the lurch like that can't have much of the right stuff in him. But +I don't know about licking him. He's awfully good in the weights. And +the Hopevale crowd say that since he came there he's improved a lot, +too. I don't know whether it's so or not, but they claim he's beating +forty feet with the shot, right along. And that he's throwing the +hammer a hundred and sixty. But you can't tell. They may be trying to +scare us, so we'll think it's no use to enter, even. Never can tell +beforehand--that's my motto in athletics." + +Dick nodded, and was about to answer, when the scorer called, +"Randall, second try." Dick rose, and was making ready for his run, +when the scorer waved him back. "No, don't jump, Mr. Randall," he +cried. "Sit down again, please. Wait till they run the quarter mile." + +Dick nodded, and complied. Every eye in the field was turned on the +start of the quarter. The nine athletes stretched straight across the +track. Dick saw that Morrison of his own school was on the pole; that +Harry Allen was sixth in line, and that their third entry, Egan, was +on the extreme outside. "Bang!" went the pistol, and the runners were +off, in a mad burst for the lead to the first turn. There was little +to be distinguished for a moment or two, and then, as they rounded and +squared away for the back stretch, Dick's heart gave a great leap of +excitement. Morrison had held his lead, Egan had cut clean across in +front of the others, and was second; only Allen lay back, in seventh +position, apparently "pocketed" and unable to extricate himself. Up +the stretch they swung, in steady, rhythmical procession; from across +the field one would have said that they scarcely moved; so greatly did +the added distance deceive the eye. Once a Hopevale runner spurted and +tried to pass the leaders, but they quickened their pace in turn, and +he fell back into the ruck, beaten and exhausted. Dick could not take +his eyes from Allen's figure. He hardly realized, until that moment, +how much he cared for his friend; he felt as if he himself were +running the race; under his breath he was muttering, "Go it, Harry! Go +it, old man!" + +Around the curve they swung, and squared away for home. A great shout +came from the grandstand "Fenton, Fenton, Fenton!" and then "Morrison! +Egan!" "Go it, Morrison! Go it, Egan!" again and again. + +It was a Fenton victory; there was no doubt of that. The two runners +were yards ahead of the field, and though both were tiring, they +seemed certain of keeping their lead to the tape, well ahead of the +rest. Dick felt a mixture of emotions. He was glad, first of all, of +course, for the school, and yet, mingled with his joy, there was a +tinge of sorrow for his friend. For he knew Allen's ambition had been +to wind up his last year with a win, and he felt that after all the +work he had done, it would be only a fair reward. Yet, barring the +impossible, Allen was beaten. And then, while all these thoughts were +flashing through his brain in a hundredth part of the time it takes to +put the words on paper, the seemingly impossible did happen. All at +once, as Dick sought for his friend's figure in the struggling ruck, +he caught sight of him, running wide on the outside of the field, but +cutting loose at last, with all the energy which he had held in +reserve, while he had been forced to wait and hang back, pocketed, +against his will. He did not merely pass the wearied runners from the +other two schools; he flashed by them as if they had been standing +still. It was a sight to bring a crowd to its feet, and to its feet it +came. + +Never for one instant did Allen's splendid stride relax. His eyes were +half closed, his head was thrown a little to one side, his lips were +drawn back from his teeth, but he ran like a race-horse, true, steady, +and game to the core, putting out the last ounce in him in a finish +such as Fenton Field had rarely seen. Twenty yards from the tape he +passed his schoolmates, still locked shoulder to shoulder, and keeping +still to his tremendous pace, swept by the post--a winner. + +The whole Fenton section of the stand was in an uproar. First, second +and third; a clean sweep--all eight points in the quarter--here was +something to buoy up their hopes at last. Nor did this end their good +fortune. A moment later the mile runners were started on their long +four circuits of the track, and Ned Brewster justified all the +predictions that had been made for him. He had the rest of the field +outclassed, and saving himself for the half-mile which was to come +later, made no effort at fast time, winning easily in four minutes and +forty-eight seconds, with Sheldon of Clinton second, and Marshall of +Hopevale third. The scorer at the bulletin board again shifted his big +figures, and now they read: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 9 16 7 + + +Dick went back to his broad jump trials with a light heart. It seemed +that the meet was as good as won. On his second trial he stepped over +the take-off and made a foul jump, and on his third, in his anxiety +not to repeat the mistake, he fell short of the board by almost a +foot, and though the actual distance was greater than anything he had +yet done, in measurement it amounted to but twenty feet and one-half +an inch. Yet he qualified for the finals, for Harding of Hopevale was +the only man who bettered his mark to any extent. On his second +attempt he cleared twenty feet, eight inches; while Johnson, after his +first good jump, waived his next two trials, watching the work of the +others to see whether he need jump again, or could save himself for +the high. + +Dick had felt himself grow more limber with each successive jump, and +now felt sure that if he could once catch the take-off correctly, he +could improve his mark. On his first trial, in the finals, he +accomplished what he wished, and knew, even while still in midair, +that he had excelled his first performance. The measurer pulled the +tape up carefully to the mark left by Dick's heels in the soft, +well-rolled earth, and then announced, "Twenty-one one and a half." +Dick grew suddenly elated. It was the best jump he had ever made. He +was ahead of Harding; almost up to Johnson himself. For a moment he +even dreamed that he might prove the winner, after all. But his +triumph was short-lived. Johnson pulled off his sweater and took his +second try, and this time, putting a trifle more speed into his run, +cleared twenty-one, seven and a quarter. Dick failed to improve on his +second and third tries, yet he seemed sure of second place until +Harding's last jump. The Hopevale man put all his energies into his +attempt, and even from where Dick stood he could tell that the jump +was a good one. A moment later the announcer called, "Mr. Harding +jumps twenty-one, five," and Dick was put back to third. Yet he had +won a point for the school, and with it the right to wear his "F." + +And now the clerk came running up with two sheets of paper in his +hand. He gave them to the announcer, who forthwith called out, +"Throwing the sixteen-pound hammer--won by Ellis of Hopevale--second, +Merrihew of Hopevale--third, Robinson of Fenton. Distance, one hundred +and fifty-eight feet, eleven inches." + +There followed a storm of cheers from the Hopevale section, and the +announcer, raising his hand for silence, continued, "Pole vault, won +by Garfield of Fenton--second, Amory of Hopevale--third, Hollingsworth +of Hopevale--height, ten feet, six inches." Applause from Fenton, and +again from Hopevale, for the second and third had not been looked for. +And now the score board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 14 23 19 + + +Decidedly, matters were growing interesting. The next three track +events were run off quickly, and without making much change in the +relative positions of the schools. Brewster won the half for Fenton, +in the good time of two, two and a quarter, with Cartwright of +Hopevale second, and Donaldson of Clinton third. The two-twenty, as is +so often the case, resulted exactly as the hundred had done, Harris of +Clinton winning in twenty-two and four-fifths, with Lindsay of Fenton +second, and Adams of Hopevale third. In the low hurdles Fenton was +shut out altogether, while Hopevale was deprived of two points on +which she had counted, for though Barker, who had been first in the +high, repeated his victory in the longer race, and won handily in +twenty-six and three-fifths, Jones' injured knee was too stiff to +allow him to start, and Ballantyne and Salisbury of Clinton took +second and third for their school. Thus but two events--the shot and +the high jump--were left, and the score board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 23 30 17 + + +The shot was called first, and Brewster, his eyes gleaming with +excitement, came hurriedly up to Dick. "Do your best, old man," he +whispered. "Every point is going to count now. If you could get second +it would be great; even third would help a lot. This is going to be +the closest meet we ever had." + +Dick nodded, though feeling little confidence in his chances. Ellis +and Merrihew, he considered, were practically sure of first and +second; with Ross of Clinton he felt that he had a fighting chance for +third. Every eye was turned on the shot ring, and the scorer called, +"Ellis of Hopevale, first try." + +Ellis, big and strong and brawny, stepped forward with perfect +confidence, poised for a moment, and then leaped into his put. Even +Dick, much as he disliked the performer, could not repress a thrill of +admiration for the performance. It was a splendid try--clean, fast, +with a fine follow--and all done so easily that Dick could scarcely +credit his ears when the measurer gave his result to the announcer, +and the latter shouted, "Mr. Ellis puts thirty-nine, four and a half." + +Two other contestants made tries which fell five or six feet short of +Ellis', and then Ross put thirty-seven, four. Directly after him +Merrihew, big and ungainly, with brute strength enough to move a +mountain, made a slow, awkward put of thirty-eight, two. Then Dick's +name was called. Again Brewster whispered, "Do your best, old man," +and Allen slapped him encouragingly on the back. "Remember not to try +too hard, Dick," he said. Both meant their advice in the kindest +possible way, but it was a mistake of inexperience. Dick, for the +first time in his athletic career, in a really tight place, felt as if +he were moving in a dream, and his schoolmates' words only served to +increase his nervousness. He took his place in the ring. The shot +seemed to have grown terribly heavy, and forgetting everything that +McDonald had been drilling into him for the past weeks, he put +blindly, and walked out of the circle, scarcely knowing whether he had +done well or ill. There was an ominous silence, and then the scorer +announced, "Mr. Randall puts thirty-two, ten and a half." + +Dick felt himself flush. There was a sneer on Ellis' face. He spoke +loudly enough for every one around the circle to hear. "That's the +Pentathlon man from Fenton," he said to Merrihew. "He's all right, +isn't he? He's a dandy." + +With an effort Dick kept control of himself. And then the second round +began. It resulted in a general improvement. Ellis put forty feet and +one inch; Ross thirty-seven, eleven; Merrihew thirty-eight, nine. When +it came Dick's turn he forced himself to imagine that he was +practising alone in McDonald's field, with no crowd to trouble him. He +put his whole mind on his form, and as a result, did better, getting +in a try of thirty-six, seven. Yet he felt far from satisfied, and all +at once it flashed upon him that he was doing the very thing which +McDonald had told him, long ago, was his besetting fault, that he was +stiffening up too soon in his effort, and not getting the powerful, +sweeping drive which made Ellis' trials so successful. + +The third round began. Ellis fell back a few inches, putting +thirty-nine, ten and a half; Ross improved to thirty-eight, four; +Merrihew put an even thirty-nine feet. "Thirty-eight four to beat," +Dick kept thinking to himself. He had never done it in practice, but +now, if ever, was the time. His name was called. He was perfectly cool +by this time; he knew exactly what he wished to do; and poising easily +at the back of the ring, he swung into his put, and finished through +with every bit of strength he possessed. It was a better try than his +others--he knew that, on the instant--but was it good enough for the +point. The measurers seemed to take longer than usual over their task. +Finally the announcer cried, "Thirty-eight, three and a half." Dick +turned away, sick at heart. He had failed; the point was lost. + +Brewster and Allen were at his side in an instant, cheering him as +best they could. "That's all right, old man," Brewster cried; "don't +you care. You beat your record. You can't do impossibilities. Don't +you mind." But Dick refused to be comforted. "A half an inch," he kept +repeating to himself, over and over again. "The least little bit more +ginger; the least little bit better form; a half an inch; confound the +luck!" and he sat gloomily watching the finals, which resulted as +expected, Ellis first, Merrihew second, Ross third. And the score +board showed: + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 24 30 34 + + +The high jump alone remained. Brewster figured for a moment, and then +came over to Dick. "I don't want to rattle you, old man," he said, +"but there's just one chance in a hundred still. Hopevale hasn't a man +that's any good in the high; Clinton's got Johnson and Robinson. If +you could get a streak of jumping and beat Johnson, we'd win by a +point." + +Dick nodded. "I'll do everything that's in me, Ned," he said quietly, +and Brewster felt satisfied with the reply. + +The high jump was soon under way. At five feet, two, only Johnson, +Robinson and Dick were left. At five four, Robinson failed, scoring a +single point for Clinton. And then ensued a duel between Johnson and +Dick. Dick was jumping in his old time form, with plenty of speed and +spring, and all the stimulus of knowing that he might yet save the +day. Both boys cleared five, five, and five, six, in safety. At five, +seven, Johnson failed on his first trial, and the Fenton supporters +felt a sudden gleam of hope. Dick made ready for his try, every muscle +working in unison, every fiber in his body intent on clearing the bar +in safety. He ran down easily, quickened his pace on his last three +strides, and leaped. It was a splendid effort, save that he had taken +off a trifle too far from the bar. He was almost over and then, in a +last effort to work his body clear he lost his balance, just grazing +the bar, and fell into the pit, landing with one leg under him. There +was a moment's suspense; the bar hung undecidedly, springing up and +down under the impact of Dick's body--and then, just as the Fenton +crowd were getting ready to cheer, it gave one final shiver and +dropped into the pit at Dick's side. The cheers were changed to a +groan of disappointment, and then the silence grew almost painful as +Dick did not rise. Brewster hurried over to him; Randall's face was +white with pain. "Ankle, Ned," he said. "Give me a hand up, please." + +A moment later the doctor was examining him. "No break," he announced +at last, "and nothing really serious. But that ends it for to-day. +Another wrench, and you can't tell what would happen. Sorry, but it's +the fortune of war." + +Dick protested vigorously. "I can get around on it," he cried, "let me +jog up and down, Doctor, and then take one more try. I don't care what +happens." + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Don't be foolish, Dick," he said. +"You couldn't jump three feet with that ankle. Don't walk on it, +either, you must give it absolute rest." + +Yet Dick insisted, and gamely tried to hobble back to the jumping +path. The effort was vain. Things swam around him, and with a long +sigh of disappointment he sank back on the ground. "All right, I'll +quit," he said, and a moment later Johnson cleared the height, and the +games were done. + + + Clinton--Fenton--Hopevale + + 30 32 34 + + +It had been the closest meet in the history of the schools. Half an +hour later, as Dick left the locker-room, leaning on Allen's shoulder, +he heard Dave Ellis' voice, holding forth to a knot of admiring +supporters from Hopevale. + +"Turn his ankle? Not a bit of it," he was saying. "That's an old gag. +He knew when he was licked. He's got no sand. He won't go into the +Pentathlon now." + +Dick shook off Allen's detaining hand and thrust open the door. +"Sounds natural, Dave," he said, meeting Ellis' surprised glance with +a rather grim smile, "but if it interests you to know it, he will go +into the Pentathlon, and perhaps he'll make you hustle, too." He +banged the door behind him and limped away, his hand on Allen's +shoulder, down the stairs. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + ON DIAMOND AND RIVER + + +The track meet was over, and Hopevale had scored three points toward +the cup. Another victory, either in the ball game or the boat race, +and the competition would be ended. And this victory they were bent on +winning, while the other two schools were equally determined to wipe +out defeat, and to overcome their rival's lead, in the three contests +which remained. + +On the Saturday after the track games came the first round in the +base-ball league. Luck was with Fenton; they had the good fortune to +draw the bye, and the small party of boys who went to see the game +between Clinton and Hopevale was composed largely of experts, anxious +to "get a line" on the opposing teams, and to note the strong and weak +points in their play. + +Until the last two innings it was a close and interesting contest. +Prescott, the Clinton pitcher, proved a puzzle to his opponents, +but his support was none of the best; and thus, while the Clinton +team hit the Hopevale pitcher freely, the home nine, on the other +hand, put up a splendid fielding game, and for seven innings the score +was a tie, five to five. And then, in the eighth, there came, for +Hopevale, one of those unhappy times, when things go from bad to worse +with the rapidity of lightning. A base hit, a base on balls, and a +sacrifice put men on second and third, with only one out; and then a +clean two-bagger between center and right scored them both. After +which the Hopevale team, in the slang of the game, "went up into the +air." + +On the next play their short-stop, in an endeavor to catch the runner +coming from second base, threw wild to third; another base on balls +followed; and then, just at the psychological moment, Ferguson, the +heavy hitter of the Clinton team, sent a screaming three-bagger far +over the center-fielder's head. Altogether, by the time Hopevale had +steadied again, and the inning had ended, they found the score eleven +to five against them; and although they made one run in the eighth, +and another in the ninth, that was all, and it was Clinton's game, +eleven to seven. Supporters of both Fenton and Clinton breathed again. +One of them would win, and the other lose, but Hopevale, their common +enemy, had not yet secured the cup. + +The succeeding Saturday was the banner day of the sports. Ten o'clock +in the morning was the time set for the final ball game; and the boat +race was scheduled for three in the afternoon. The ball game was +played on the Clinton grounds, yet four carloads of spectators went +down from Fenton to cheer for their nine, and filled a good-sized +section of the grandstand with their crimson flags. Jim Putnam, with +the rest of the crew, stayed at home, to store up the last final ounce +of energy for the afternoon. Dick, Allen, Brewster and Lindsay sat +together, watching the tall and ungainly Prescott going through his +gyrations as he warmed up for the game. He appeared, as Allen +remarked, to be a "tough proposition." His delivery was so deceptively +easy that one scarcely realized the speed and power behind it, until +the ball struck, with a vicious "thut," in the catcher's glove. And +his curves looked as formidable as his speed. Brewster sighed as he +watched him. "Now how are they going to hit a fellow like that?" he +asked. + +Allen, the optimistic, made haste to answer, "Oh, you can't tell," he +said, "he may get tired before he gets through. And we've got a better +fielding team than they have, I know. Besides, when you're talking +about pitchers, Ed Nichols is no slouch. You can bet they won't knock +him out of the box. Our show is as good as theirs." + +As he spoke, the umpire consulted for a moment with Jarvis, the Fenton +captain, and Crawford, the leader of the Clinton team. Then the coin +spun upward into the air, and immediately the Clinton players +scattered to their positions in the field, and the Fenton nine took +their places on the visitors' bench. "There," said Brewster, "bad luck +to start with. We've lost the toss." + +There followed the tense hush which always precedes the beginning of a +championship game. The umpire tossed out a new ball, which the +elongated Prescott at once proceeded to deface by rubbing it around, +with great thoroughness, in the dirt. Abbot, the Fenton short-stop, +stepped to the plate, and the umpire gave the time-honored command, +"Play ball!" + +The redoubtable Prescott eyed the batsman for an instant with what +seemed to the Fenton crowd a glare of hate, held the ball extended +before him, then, in Allen's phrase, "tied himself up into a number of +double bow-knots," and let fly. Abbot made no attempt to strike at +the ball; it appeared to be traveling too high; yet just before it +reached the plate it shot quickly downward, and the umpire called, +"Strike--one." + +At the second ball Abbot made a terrific lunge, but met only the air, +and a moment later, as Stevens, the Clinton catcher, moved up behind +the bat, a fast inshoot neatly cut the corner of the plate, and with +the words, "Strike--three--striker out," Abbot walked dejectedly back +to the bench. + +Crosby, the second man up, had slightly better fortune, for, as Allen +remarked, in an endeavor to keep up the courage of the others, "he had +a nice little run for his money," hitting an easy grounder to second +base, and being thrown out at first. Sam Eliot, the third man to face +Prescott, followed Abbot's example, and struck out. The Fenton half of +the inning ended in gloom. + +Now came Clinton's turn at the bat. Bates, the first man up, had two +strikes called on him, and then hit a clean, swift ball over second +base, and reached first in safety. Crawford, the Clinton captain, +bunted, advancing Bates to second. Then Nichols settled down to work, +and Davenport, the third batsman, was retired on strikes. Two out, a +man on second, and Ferguson, the much-dreaded heavy hitter, at the +bat, Nichols and Jarvis held consultation, and as a result Ferguson +was given his base on balls. It seemed good generalship, yet in the +sequel, it proved unfortunate, for Gilbert, the next man up, made a +tremendous drive far out into center field and never stopped running +until he had reached third, while Bates and Ferguson crossed the +plate. The Clinton section of the grandstand became delirious with +enthusiasm, in the midst of which Manning, the sixth man at bat for +the home team, hit weakly to Nichols, and was thrown out at first. Two +to nothing. It looked like Clinton's day. + +Nor did Fenton's chances seem brighter in the second. Again three men +came to bat, and again they were retired, without one of them reaching +first. Yet there was comfort in the latter half of the inning, for +Nichols steadied down, and proved as much of a puzzle as Prescott +himself. The Clinton men, in their turn, went out in one, two, three +order, and the hopes of the Fenton supporters faintly revived. + +Four more innings passed without another run being scored. It was a +genuine pitchers' battle, man after man, on either side, striking out, +hitting easy grounders to the infield, or popping up abortive flies. +The beginning of the seventh, however, brought a change. Jarvis was +the first man at bat for Fenton, and he started things auspiciously by +making a pretty single, close along the third base foul line. It +seemed like the time for taking chances, and on the next ball pitched, +he started for second, and aided by a poor throw by Stevens, the +Clinton catcher, made it in safety. Taylor, the next man at bat, +struck a sharp, bounding grounder toward second base, and the Hopevale +second-baseman ingloriously let it go through his legs. The Fenton +crowd in the grandstand, long deprived of a chance to cheer, shouted +themselves hoarse. A man on third, and one on first, and no one out. +The chances for tying the score looked bright. + +At this point, however, Prescott exerted all his skill. Warren, +coached to hit the ball at any cost, tried his best, but in vain. One +strike--one ball--two strikes--two balls--three strikes, and out. It +was Clinton's turn to exult. Nichols, the weakest batsman on the +Fenton team, was next in order, and to the surprise of friends and +foes alike, he made as pretty a single over short-stop's head as one +could have wished to see, scoring Jarvis and advancing Taylor to +second. Then came Abbot's turn, and this time he had his revenge for +two successive strike-outs by making a long drive between left and +center, good for two bases, and bringing Taylor and Nichols home. +Fenton was in the lead, and the grandstand became a mass of blazing +crimson. Such a batting streak, however, was too good to last. Crosby +hit a pop fly to Prescott, and Eliot struck out. Yet Fenton was well +content. Three to two; and only two innings and a half to play. + +Clinton's half of the seventh resulted in no score; and in the eighth +both sides retired in order, Prescott and Nichols again on their +mettle, and pitching as if their very lives depended on the outcome of +the game. In the ninth Fenton made a splendid effort to increase their +lead. With two out, and with men on second and third, Crosby hit a +liner that looked good enough to score both men, and then Bates, the +Clinton short-stop, pulled off the star play of the game, leaping high +into the air, and getting his right hand on the ball just at the one +possible moment--a clean, sensational catch that set the followers of +both schools cheering, and stopped the Fenton scoring where it stood. + +Then came the last of the ninth. The inning opened well for Fenton. +Prescott hit a long fly to center field, which Irwin captured without +difficulty. Bates bunted, and aided by his fleetness of foot, beat the +ball to first. Crawford struck out. The game was almost won, and then +came one of those sudden plays, that in a flash changes a defeat into +a victory. Davenport swung on the first ball pitched, met it fair and +square, with a crack that sounded like a rifle shot, and lifted it, as +if on wings, clear over the left field fence. Red and black had its +turn; flags waved; throats grew hoarse with cheering; Bates jogged +home, and Davenport made the circuit of the bases at sprinting speed, +while the crowd poured out on the field and bore him away on their +shoulders in triumph. The game was ended--four to three--and Clinton +was even with Hopevale for the cup. It was a silent procession of +Fenton followers who walked down from the field, to take the train for +home. + +An hour later Dick entered Putnam's room, to find his classmate +stretched, resting, on the bed. He looked up eagerly. "Well?" he +queried. + +Dick shook his head. "They licked us," he answered, "but there's no +kick coming. It was a dandy game. I never want to see a better one. It +looked as if we had it--" and he went over the whole story for +Putnam's benefit, detailing every play, as it had occurred. "And so +they licked us," he concluded, "and now, Jim, it seems to be most +everlastingly up to you." + +Putnam rose and began to pace up and down the room. "That's about the +size of it," he answered, "and, thank goodness, we've got no hard luck +stories to tell. We're in good shape--every one of us--and right on +edge, too. If we're licked, it's because they've got better crews. +But, by golly," he added, "they've got to go some, Dick. I don't care +if I row the whole crew out, and we don't come to for a week, but +we'll do our darndest, anyway. It's make or break, now." + +Dick nodded. "Yes, it's win or nothing," he said; "but I'm glad of one +thing. I guess Clinton's got a better crew than Hopevale, and if we +_can't_ win, then the cup goes to Clinton. And our old friend, Dave, +can win all the Pentathlons he likes; it won't do him any good then. +But we won't back down till we have to. You may lick 'em, after all." + +Putnam squared his shoulders. "Dick," he said solemnly, "you watch us +in the last half-mile, and if you can come to me afterward, and tell +me that I didn't hit things up to the last notch, then you can hold my +head under water till I drown. If I don't do my level best, and then +some, I'm a Dutchman." + +Dick laughed. "I'll watch you, all right," he answered, "but not to +criticize; only to yell for all I'm worth, whether you're ahead or +behind. We're with you, Jim, win or lose. The crowd of us have hired a +launch, so if our moral support is going to help you any, on your way +down the river, why you'll know you've got it." + +The time before the race dragged away somehow, and shortly before +three, the launch, with Allen, Brewster, Lindsay and Dick on board, +came to a halt, with a dozen other craft, off the starting buoys, +marking the beginning of the two-mile course. It was the perfection of +racing weather, the water calm and smooth as a mirror, yet with the +sky overcast, so as to temper the heat of the sun. One by one the +crews came paddling out from the big boat-house on the shore. First +came Hopevale, their blue-bladed oars dipping prettily together, and +the blue cap on their coxswain's head making them easy to distinguish +from the others. After them came Clinton, the winners of the previous +year, a rangy, speedy-looking crew, their red and black jerseys +looming up more prominently than the quieter colors of their rivals. +And last of all, their own boat left the shore, Blagden at bow, +Selfridge at two, "Big" Smith at three, and Putnam at stroke. Little +"Skeeter" Brown, the eighty-pound coxswain, sat in the stern, +megaphone strapped around his head, his big, long-visored crimson +jockey cap pulled down about his ears. + +The referee's launch tooted a warning blast. The three crews increased +their speed a trifle, and one by one took up their positions, Hopevale +on the outside, Clinton in the middle, Fenton nearest the boat-house +shore. The coxswains gripped the starting-lines, the referee talked +briefly to the three captains in turn, and then, backing his launch, +made ready to give the signal for the start. It was a pretty sight: +the rival crews, tense and ready, awaiting the word; the little fleet +of pleasure craft which was to follow in their wake; on shore the +eager enthusiasts who were to pursue them on bicycles or in motors +along the bank. And Dick, as he gazed around him, could not but think +of that other crowd, waiting so eagerly at the finish, two miles away, +and turning the sober old river into a garden of variegated color, +with the flags and ribbons of the different schools. + +The referee's right arm was outlined in silhouette against the sky. A +moment's silence and then the pistol cracked, the little wreath of +smoke curled upward, and the twelve oars caught the water like one. A +tooting of whistles, a medley of shouts and cheers; the race was on. + +The boys stood well forward, as the bow of their launch cut through +the water, their eyes fixed on the three crews, as they shot away down +stream. Clinton had the lead, that was already evident. They had +gained it in the first half-dozen strokes, and had increased it, first +to a quarter length, then to a half, Hopevale and Fenton fighting, bow +and bow, for second place. For a quarter-mile they kept the same +positions, and then, all at once, Hopevale--the crew the boys had +rated as the least dangerous--took a sudden spurt. Quickening their +stroke perceptibly, they drew away from Fenton, then came even with +Clinton, and finally were a clear length in the lead. "Look at 'em!" +cried Lindsay. "I didn't know they could row like that. Look at 'em +go!" + +Allen eyed them critically. Their boat did not move as smoothly as the +others; there was a perceptible roll from side to side; there was some +splashing by bow and two; yet for all that, the crew was made up of +big, strong oarsmen, and despite their evident lack of form, they +drove their shell ahead at a tremendous pace. But Allen shook his +head. "They won't last," he said. "They'll be rowed out at a mile." + +Dick hastened to dissent. "I don't believe it, Harry," he replied. "A +two-mile race isn't like a four-mile. I think they can hold that pace, +and if they do, they'll win. Look at 'em 'dig. There! There goes +Clinton after 'em! Why doesn't Jim hit 'er up, too? There! Now he's +quickened. Oh, good boy, Jim! That's the stuff! Soak it to 'em!" + +He was shouting as if he fancied Putnam could hear every word he said, +unmindful of the fact that every one else around him was shouting as +well. Hopevale had drawn away still more, and then, as a half-length +of open water showed between them and Clinton, the Clinton crew had at +last begun to quicken in their turn. Slowly they drew up on the +leaders, and then, just as Dick had begun his yells of encouragement, +for the first time Putnam had raised his stroke, and the three boats +passed the mile-post with Hopevale a length ahead, and Clinton a +half-length in front of the Fenton crew. + +For another quarter-mile there was practically no change. Brewster +began to worry. "Why doesn't Jim spurt?" he cried. "If Hopevale keeps +it up, they win. It's only a quarter-mile to the turn." + +Sure enough, they could see, ahead of them, the bend that marked the +last half-mile of the course. Yet still Putnam did not quicken; in +fact, he dropped back a trifle, and the boys' hearts sank like lead. +Only Dick, remembering what Putnam had said to him that morning, kept +repeating to himself, "The last half-mile; the last half-mile." + +And now, into the swarm of boats along the banks, into the noise and +din of the crowds, the three crews steered around the bend, and +squared away for home. The race between Clinton and Hopevale was so +close and pretty to watch that for a moment the boys had taken their +eyes off their own crew; and then, suddenly, Dick began shouting like +a maniac, "Oh, Jim, give it to 'em! That's the boy, Jim! Give it to +'em! That's the boy!" + +With one accord the others turned, and the next moment were joining in +Randall's frenzied cries. For the spurt had come at last. Putnam had +cut loose with every ounce of power at his command; Big Smith at three +was backing him gallantly, passing forward the heightened stroke, and +Selfridge and Blagden were quickening like heroes in their turn. Nor +were the boys in the launch the only ones to note the change. All the +shouts of the crowd had been, "Hopevale! Clinton!" Yet now there came +a roar from the banks, "Oh, well rowed! Well rowed, Fenton! Go in! Go +in and win!" + +Never did Randall forget that last half-mile. Gallantly the Hopevale +boys stuck to their work, yet the smooth, persistent power of the +Clinton boat was not to be denied, and a quarter-mile from home +Hopevale was a beaten crew. And then, as they fell back, defeated, but +game, all eyes were turned on the boys from Fenton. Never for an +instant did Putnam falter; such a stroke as he was setting had not +been seen on the river for many and many a year. And strive as Clinton +would, they fell back, inch by inch, foot by foot, and the finish but +two hundred yards away. Now the bows of the shells were even, now for +an instant Clinton showed again in the lead, and then, with one final +effort, the Fenton shell leaped forward again and again. A wild burst +of whistles, shrieking horns, shouting hundreds on the shore, and by a +quarter boat length, the Fenton crew had won. + +Half an hour later, Putnam was riding home with his friends, tired, +exhausted, but happy as a boy could be. "Well, old man," Dick said to +him, "I'm not going to drown you. You did what you said you'd do. The +last half-mile; that's where you fixed 'em." + +Putnam nodded. "Thank goodness," he said, "for once I rowed just the +race I meant to. I couldn't have beaten that time a second for a +million dollars. And, golly, wasn't it close? I don't see how we did +it. But we did. Three points apiece, and only the Pentathlon left. +Dick, old man, the rest of us have done our darndest. And now it's +your turn; it's up to you." + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + FOUL PLAY + + +It was nearing sunset on Friday, the fourteenth of June; the +Pentathlon was scheduled for ten o'clock on the following day. Dick +Randall, dressed in his street clothes, but with his spiked shoes on +his feet, stood, hammer in hand, listening to McDonald's final words +of explanation and advice. McDonald's protege, Joe, the little French +Canadian, lay stretched on the grass, near the edge of the field, +looking on. + +It was a bright, clear evening, and the sun, now almost level with the +horizon, smote blindingly across the field. McDonald shifted his +position to escape its glare. "Now then, Dick," he said, "just one +more try, to be sure we've got it. That's all I'm going to let you +take. We'll run no risk of damaging that ankle of yours again." + +"Oh, the ankle's all right," Dick answered. "I honestly couldn't feel +in better shape. And you don't know what a load it takes off my mind +to have the hammer coming right at last. It makes me feel as if I +really had something of a show." + +McDonald nodded. "Of course, you have a show," he answered. "Now take +your try, and remember the two things I've been telling you! Pull away +from it, all the time, as if you were hauling tug-of-war on a rope; +and don't start to turn too quick. But when you do start, spin fast, +and the rest will come by itself. And if you don't throw within ten +feet of Dave Ellis to-morrow, I'm a liar." + +Dick took his stand within the circle, and made ready for his trial. +After weeks of disappointment, there had finally come a day when the +whole theory of the double turn had worked itself out satisfactorily +in his brain, and had remained there, so that for the past fortnight +he had kept his form, and had steadily increased the distance of his +throws. Yet McDonald, although a great believer in light work before a +competition, knew from experience how easily the knack with the hammer +may be lost, and while he had made Dick stop his running and jumping, +he had kept him at light practice with the weight, taking half a dozen +throws a day, until his pupil had acquired a method that was almost +mechanical in its certainty. Now he found little to criticize as Dick +spun around quickly and smoothly, keeping well within the circle, and +sending the missile far down the field. He nodded approval. "All +right," he called, "that's enough. We'll stop right there. Let's put +the tape on it." + +While they were measuring, Joe, from his position near the fence, +happened to glance into the woods beyond the field, and having looked +once, he seemed to take no further interest in the hammer throwers, +but lay still, and without appearing to do so, kept a watchful eye on +the spot of light which had gleamed from the branches of the big oak +tree on the border of the wood. The last rays of the sunset streamed +gloriously across the field; in answer, flash after flash came +sparkling from the oak; and then the sun dipped behind the hills, and +the soft shadow of the twilight crept downward toward the town. + +Dick and McDonald, talking earnestly together, started to leave the +field. At the corner of the wood, Dick turned, gazing out at the +darkening west. "Fine day to-morrow, I guess, all right," he said. + +"Yes," McDonald assented, "it looks like it. And we're going to have +you in shape to do a good performance, Dick. Wait till you've eaten +the steak I've got for you. That's going to put the muscle on. It'll +mean a foot in the hammer, I know." + +Dick laughed. "Well, you were good to invite me to stay," he answered. +"I told Mr. Fenton we had a few last things to talk over, and that I'd +come back after supper. And he said that would be all right. Now, +about that high jump--" + +They walked on toward the cottage. As they passed the angle of the +woods, Joe, who had been walking along behind them, hurried up to +McDonald, spoke a few quick words to him in an undertone, and darted +away among the trees. Dick looked after him in surprise. "What's +struck the kid?" he asked. + +McDonald shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know myself," he answered, "he +takes queer notions sometimes. Something, he said, about a big bird in +a tree. But he's all right. He's a smart youngster, and he knows the +woods like a book. He'll be back by supper-time." + +They walked on again, still discussing the all-absorbing topic of the +morrow's meet. In the meantime, Joe's little figure was flitting +onward through the woods, slipping silently from tree to tree, from +time to time stopping to listen, until finally, ahead of him, he heard +the murmur of voices. Dropping quickly on his hands and knees, he +crept forward through the underbrush. Then, reaching the edge of a +little clearing, he peered cautiously through the bushes, and saw +before him the figures of two men, standing talking together in the +fading light. One of them was slight and dark, and fashionably +dressed, and as Joe saw the pair of field-glasses slung over his +shoulder, his eyes gleamed, and he gave a quick little nod to himself, +as if now sure of something which he had only suspected before. The +other man was short, broad, powerful, his thick chest and long arms +suggesting a strength far above the average. It was he who was +speaking, and Joe strained his ears to listen to every word. + +"I don't like it," he was saying; "the whole thing's too big a risk. +You're safe, I guess, if you play it straight. Ellis is going to win." + +"No, he isn't going to win," the dapper young man replied. "I've +climbed that cursed tree every afternoon for the last week, and I know +how far Randall's getting that hammer, and I tell you again that, +barring accidents, he's going to lick Ellis on the show-down. It will +be close, but Randall wins." + +His companion grunted. "Humph," he said, "this Dave Ellis must be a +beaut. He makes you lots of bother. First he loses two hundred to you +at poker, and then he cries baby, and says he can't pay, and then he +puts you on to this athletic business, to get square, and now at the +last minute, when your money's on, it turns out you've backed the +wrong man. Don't blame you for being a little worked up. That comes +close to being what I should call a pretty raw deal." + +"No," the younger man answered, "hardly that. Ellis meant all right. +He thought he could win. He thinks now he can win. But he can't. I'm +sure of it. Because, as long as I've got five hundred dollars on him, +I've taken pains to find out how things stand. He can beat Johnson, +all right, but he can't beat Randall. The men I got my money up with, +were pretty wise guys--they had the tip from McDonald, I believe. +Anyway, it's too late to hedge, and so--I wrote you. And, as I tell +you, it's a hundred dollars in your pocket, and as easy as breaking +sticks. So don't go back on me now." + +The older man appeared to hesitate. "I don't like it much," he said +again, then added, "When do you mean to pull it off?" + +"Right away," answered the other. "I meant to do it later to-night, +but now I find he's going to stop at McDonald's for supper, and then +walk back. It's a straight road, and a lonely one. There's a patch of +woods about half-way home. It's easy. We've got the team. And there's +no harm done to any one. You're the gainer, and so am I, and so is +young Dave. The whole thing's no more than a joke, except that it +means five hundred dollars to me, and five hundred dollars is money, +these times. So let's get going." + +Still his companion hesitated. "Here's two things I want to know," he +said at length; "first, where do I take him?" + +"Smith's old barn," answered the other promptly; "pleasant and retired +health resort. No bad neighbors. Quiet and peaceful. Keep him till +about noon to-morrow, and then let him stray back any way you please. +Oh, the thing's a cinch. I almost hate to do it. It's too easy. But, +as I say, I need the money." + +"Oh, yes, it's all a cinch," grumbled the older man, "where I do the +work, and you do the heavy looking on. It's always easy for the fellow +that's superintending. But now look here. Here's question number two. +Suppose Randall doesn't show up to-morrow, at ten o'clock, what +happens then? Won't they postpone the whole darn business? I'm not +going to live in Smith's old barn for ever, you know. I'm not as +strong for this rest-cure idea as you seem to think I am. I like some +action for mine." + +His companion smiled. "You don't seem to give me any credit for +working out this scheme," he complained. "I thought of the chance of +their postponing it, the first thing, so I asked a lot of innocent +questions of Dave, and found out there wasn't any danger in that +direction. They make a lot of fuss over this athletic business, you +know, just as if it really amounted to something. And one of the +'points of honor,' as Dave calls 'em, is never to postpone. Kind of +'play or pay' idea. They've had a base-ball game in a rainstorm, and a +foot-ball game in a blizzard, and once they tried to row a boat race +in half a gale of wind, and swamped all three shells. Oh, no, if +Randall isn't there, they'll go ahead without him; that's all there is +to that. He can explain afterward, but it's going to sound so fishy, +they'll think he's lying. It isn't bad, really, the whole plan. Hullo, +what's that?" + +At the edge of the clearing, a twig snapped sharply. Joe, in his +eagerness to hear all that was being said, had crept nearer and +nearer, and now the accident nearly betrayed him. Both men listened +intently, and Joe hugged the ground, hardly daring to breathe. "Guess +'twasn't anything," said the older man, at last. "Don't believe these +woods is very densely populated. Well, let's get out. We want to be in +time," and a moment later Joe heard their footsteps growing fainter +and fainter in the distance. + +For an instant or two, he thought hard. He did not understand all that +he had heard, but the main points in the scheme were clear enough to +his mind. He must warn Dick at once, before it was too late. And +rising to his feet, he started to run. Yet his very haste proved his +undoing. It had grown dark. The woods, even by daylight, were hard to +traverse; and now, in his hurry and excitement, he momentarily bore +away too far to the right, and missed his way. Then, striving to make +up for lost time, he became more and more confused; and finally, +catching his foot in a clinging vine, at the top of a little ravine, +he pitched forward, half fell, half rolled, down the slope, struck his +head violently against some hard substance at the bottom, and lay +still, his face upturned to the sky, over his forehead a little +trickling stream of blood. + +An hour later, Dick came out of McDonald's cottage. "Well, we've got +everything straight now," he said, "and you'll be there tomorrow. +Hopevale Oval, ten o'clock sharp." + +McDonald nodded. "I'll be there," he answered, "and remember my words, +Dick; you're going to win. Good night, and good luck." + +He watched Randall's form vanish in the darkness; then turned his face +toward the wood. "Oh, Joe," he called, "supper's ready," and then +again, more loudly, "Oh, Joe," but no answer came back to him, and +with a puzzled look on his face, he reentered the cottage. + +Dick walked leisurely along through the gloom of the summer night. He +felt happy, knowing that he was in the very pink of condition, and now +that his chance to do something for the school had really come, he was +determined to meet the crisis as gamely and as resolutely as his +classmates on the crew had done. Far away, in the distance, the lights +of the school shone out across the fields. He gave a sigh of +anticipation, feeling alive in every nerve and muscle; fit to do +battle for his very life. + +Half-way home, he entered the patch of woods which bordered the road, +for some little distance, on either hand. And then suddenly he gave a +start of surprise, for midway through the thicket, a dark figure +loomed up ahead of him, advancing through the gloom. In spite of +himself, Dick felt a thrill of uneasiness, but the stranger hailed him +cordially enough. "Beg pardon," he said, "but have you a match about +you? My pipe's gone out." + +Dick moved to one side, to let the man pass, his muscles on the alert +to make a dash for liberty, if the need should come. "Sorry," he +answered, "I don't carry 'em--" + +He got no further. Suddenly, even as he became conscious that the man +was still advancing, a brawny arm was thrown about his neck from +behind; his head was jerked violently backward; he choked and gasped +for breath; and then, before he could struggle or utter a cry, he was +gagged, bound, and lying helpless as a log, was borne swiftly away +down the road. + + +The following morning, at seven o'clock, Mr. Fenton heard a hurried +knock at his study door. "Come in," he called, and Harry Allen hastily +entered, his face pale. "Mr. Fenton," he said, "here's trouble. I just +went into Dick Randall's room, and he's not there. His bed hasn't been +slept in. What do you suppose can have happened to him?" + +Mr. Fenton looked at him in surprise. "I can't imagine, Harry," he +replied. "He told me, yesterday, he would take supper with McDonald, +and come home shortly afterward. He might have stayed there overnight, +I suppose. Still, that's not like Randall. He would have telephoned me +from the village, I think. It seems curious, doesn't it? I'll send to +McDonald's at once, and we'll see. Will you ask Peter to slip the mare +into the buggy, please; and you go with him, Harry, and show him the +way? I don't doubt you'll find Dick there." + +It was an hour later when Allen reentered the room, the lack of good +news showing in his face. "He wasn't there," he cried, "and what's +stranger still, McDonald wasn't there either, or the boy. What can it +mean, Mr. Fenton? You don't suppose McDonald--" + +Mr. Fenton finished the sentence for him. "Would have caused Dick to +vanish?" he said. "I don't know, Harry. Your guess is as good as mine. +Probably it's some very simple circumstance which we're not bright +enough to see. But I confess I'm puzzled. I shall go down to the +village directly after breakfast, and see what I can discover there. +But I've no doubt everything's all right. McDonald and Dick must be +together, wherever they are." + +Allen paused, with his hand on the knob of the door. "Shall I tell the +fellows, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Fenton deliberated. "I think not," he said at last. "We don't wish +a tempest in a teapot. You know what the newspapers are, these days. +No, I think you'd better say nothing, for the present. Perhaps Dick +will turn up at Hopevale, if he doesn't come back here before then. +No, I think, on the whole, I wouldn't alarm the boys," and Allen, +nodding, left the room. + + +At the selfsame hour that this conversation was taking place at the +school, Dick Randall sat moodily in a chair, in what had been the +harness-room of Jim Smith's big barn, now long disused, and falling to +decay. The gag had been taken from his mouth, but his arms and legs +were still bound. Opposite him sat his captor, the brawny thick-set +man whom Joe had seen in the woods on the previous night. He had +coaxed a fire into an unwilling start in the old, rusty stove, and was +laboring hard to produce a dish of coffee in an old tin dipper. A +couple of sandwiches lay on the floor beside him. Finally, with the +fire going to his satisfaction, he turned to Dick. "Well, now," he +observed, "I call this doing pretty well. Real nice and sociable like. +Two regular old pals, we're getting to be. You've promised not to +holler, which is sensible, because no one would hear you if you did, +so you've got your jaws free to eat; and if you'd only promise not to +try to get away, I'd untie them arms of yours, and you'd be as fine as +a fiddle. Come now, give me your word, and I'll cut that rope in a +minute. That shows what a trust I've got in you." + +Dick made no answer. His face was drawn and anxious, there were dark +circles under his eyes; he was thinking desperately, as he had thought +all through the long summer night. Some means of escape he must +find--and yet--how was it possible? And then, even as he recklessly +considered the giving and breaking of his word, and the chance of a +struggle with his jailer, the man pulled his watch from his pocket, +and yawned. + +"Ten minutes past eight," he said. "Just a little longer, and them +games will be going on, over at Hopevale. Too bad you can't see 'em; I +guess they'll be a fine sight. They tell me this Dave Ellis is a +likely man at all such things as that. I suppose most likely he'll +beat." + +Dick did not deign a reply. In their long, solitary sojourn together, +he had become accustomed to his captor's ideas of humor. So that now, +he did not even permit his eyes to meet those of his tormentor, but +gazed steadily past him, toward the door of the carriage house. "Ten +minutes past eight," he reflected; "it is too late--nothing could help +me now." + +And then, like lightning from a clear sky, came the climax to all this +startling series of events. For even as he looked, slowly and +cautiously he beheld the door of the harness-room slide back, and the +next instant there appeared in the doorway the figure of Duncan +McDonald, a revolver in his outstretched hand. + +The look of amazement in Dick's eyes must have warned his jailer, for +he wheeled sharply, to find himself looking into the muzzle of +McDonald's pistol. Then came the quick command, "Hands up, lively," +and as he reluctantly obeyed, McDonald called sharply, "All right, +Joe. Come on. Go through his pockets, now." + + +[Illustration: "Hands up, lively," McDonald called] + + +Dick started with surprise and pity, as the little French Canadian +limped forward into the room. His face was deathly pale, and streaked +and matted with blood. Yet he went resolutely at his task, and a +moment later drew out from the man's pocket a big revolver, and handed +it to McDonald. The latter smiled grimly. "Now cut Dick loose," he +directed, and Joe quickly obeyed. With a long sigh of relief, Randall +managed to struggle to his feet, walking haltingly around till the +thickened blood began once more to stir into life. McDonald motioned +to the door. "Hurry, Dick," he said, "Joe will show you. Down the +path. I've got a team. And food, and a set of my running things. +Hurry, now. I'll be with you in a minute. I'm going to keep a watch on +your friend here, till you give a yell to show you're ready to start." + +Fifteen minutes later they had left the woods and were speeding down +the road toward Hopevale. Dick's face was transfigured. With every +turn of the wheels, he was coming back to himself. A chance was left +him after all. + +"How did it all happen, Duncan?" he asked, and hurriedly and +disjointedly McDonald told him the tale. + +"Joe saw something shining up in a tree, last night," he said; +"thought it was queer. Went to investigate. Man had been up there, +watching us with a field-glass. Joe stumbled on him, talking with +another fellow--this chap that had you tied up there in the barn. Joe +can't tell me the whole thing, but I gather they had something in for +you, about the Pentathlon. I guess they wanted Ellis to win. So Joe +heard 'em say they were going to get you, and carry you off to Smith's +old barn. He started home to put us wise, and as bad luck would have +it, he pitched down a gully, and cracked his head open. I went looking +for him about ten o'clock, and I was in the woods all night. Never +found him till five this morning. He'd come to, poor little rascal, +and was trying to crawl home, but he was so weak he could hardly stir. +But he got out his story, and you can bet I did some quick thinking. + +"First, I was going up to town, to telephone the school, and see if +you were all right. And then I thought, if I did that, it might waste +too much time, and if things had gone wrong, I might be too late, +after all. So I went back to the house, got together my running things +and the grub you've just been eating, and then hustled off to my +nearest neighbor's, and did a little burglar act. This is his favorite +colt we're driving; I knew this fellow could eat up a dozen miles in +jig time, and so--I took him. The old man had gone up to town with a +load of garden truck. His wife tried to stop me taking the horse, but +I brandished my revolver at her, and she ran. I suppose she thought I +was crazy, And then Joe piloted me to the barn--I'd never have found +it by myself in a hundred years--so here we are." He pulled out his +watch. "Ten minutes of nine, and ten miles to go. We're all right on +time. But you must feel pretty stiff, Dick; I don't know whether you +can do yourself justice or not." + +Dick stretched himself. "Oh, I'm limbering up a little," he answered, +"I think a good rub will help a lot. And I don't feel tired. The +excitement, I suppose. I guess I'll last through, all right. But oh, +I'm grateful to you and Joe, Duncan; thank Heaven, you came when you +did. If I'd missed the Pentathlon, I'd never have got over it in the +world." + +McDonald smiled, the smile of a man looking back over his own boyhood. +"We get over a lot of things, Dick, in a lifetime," he answered, "but +I know just how you feel. I guess Joe did all he could to square up +with you for helping him, and I'm mighty glad we got there in time." + + + + + CHAPTER X + + THE PENTATHLON + + +Doctor Merrifield, the elderly, gray-haired principal of Hopevale, +turned with a smile of satisfaction to his guest. "A record day, Mr. +Graham," he said, "and a record crowd. I think we may mutually +congratulate ourselves." + +The head master of Clinton nodded in reply. "Indeed we may, Doctor," +he answered. "Of course the fact that it's graduation week: has +something to do with it, but even then, I have never seen a gathering +like this, in the history of the schools." + +There was good reason for their words. Mid-June had made its most +graceful bow to the world. A warm sun shone down over Hopevale Oval; a +cool breeze blew pleasantly across the field. The track itself had +never looked so well. It had been rolled, scraped, re-rolled once +more; the whitewashed lines had been neatly marked at start and +finish; the lanes for the hundred freshly staked out. Altogether, the +track keeper had done his work to perfection, and a man beaten in the +Pentathlon, whatever other reason he might have given for his defeat, +could scarcely have complained of the conditions under which he was +competing. + +Equally good were the arrangements on the field. The high-jump path +was hard and smooth as a floor; a new cross bar was stretched across +the standards; a dozen extra ones lay ready at hand, in case of +accident to the one in use. The ring for the shot put was in +first-class shape; two shots, one iron, one lead, lay close by. +Three or four hammer rings were clearly marked on the smooth, +closely-cropped green turf. The most critical old-timer who ever wore +a shoe could not have found fault with the preparations for the meet. + +And many a man, indeed, who had been famous in his day, sat in the +rows of seats which surrounded the Oval, eager to see the final +contest for the cup, whose possession meant so much to the school +victorious in this hard and well-fought fight. Fathers, uncles, elder +brothers, small boys looking forward to the day when they, in turn, +would take their places in the family procession, and come to Clinton, +Fenton or Hopevale, as the case might be; all were present in the +stands. Nor was it, by any means, a gathering of men and boys alone. +Mothers, aunts, sisters, most of whom knew little of athletics, and +had but the haziest idea of all that was going forward, lent, none the +less, a charm of bright dresses and brighter faces, to the scene. And +though the games were held at Hopevale, it was no mere local crowd of +spectators which had assembled to watch them. The colors of the home +school were naturally enough in the ascendant, but train after train +had brought its cheering followers of the two rival academies, and the +red and black of Clinton, and the crimson of Fenton, vied with the +Hopevale blue. + +Doctor Merrifield looked across the track. "Here comes our friend +Fenton," he observed, "and evidently in a hurry, too." + +Mr. Fenton walked rapidly up to them, his face puzzled and anxious. +"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "I find myself involved in a most +unaccountable mystery. I don't suppose either of you has heard any +word of Randall, our entry in the Pentathlon?" + +Both of his colleagues gazed at him in astonishment. "Are you +serious?" said Mr. Graham, while the doctor said, "You don't mean to +tell us he isn't here. Why, it only lacks five minutes to ten." + +Mr. Fenton sighed. "I can't understand it," he said, "and I can't help +being a little bit worried. I've notified the authorities, but haven't +heard a single word of him since yesterday afternoon. It's a most +extraordinary thing. And apart from my anxiety for Randall, it seems +hard to say good-by to our chances for the cup. However, the fortunes +of war--" + +Mr. Graham interrupted him. "Why, we don't want anything like that to +happen," he said, "we'll waive our rule, I'm sure. Won't we, Doctor? +We can postpone the meet for a time." + +Mr. Fenton made an eloquent gesture toward the crowded stands. "I +couldn't ask it," he said decidedly. "You're very kind to suggest it, +Graham, and I appreciate it. But if the positions were reversed, I +shouldn't expect you to ask the favor of me. It would never do to +interrupt the order of exercises, and disappoint a gathering of this +size. It would be a reflection, it seems to me, on our ability to +conduct our schools. No, I thank you, but, as I said before, it's the +fortune of war. Your boys must fight it out between themselves. I +suppose some day this will all be explained--" + +An outburst of Hopevale cheers broke in on him. Dave Ellis, looking in +the very top-notch of condition, was walking leisurely across the +field. A moment later, Johnson's lithe figure emerged from the +dressing-room, and Clinton applauded in their turn. And then, even as +they stood listening to the tumult, they were aware of a growing +confusion at the entrance to the field, out of which presently emerged +two rather disheveled looking figures, making toward the locker +building at a hurried pace. At the same instant broke forth a roar +from the Fenton section, "Randall, Randall, Randall!" and Mr. Fenton, +taking an abrupt leave of his associates, started across the field, as +fast as his legs could carry him. "Thank Heaven," he muttered to +himself, "nothing serious has happened to him. But what can the +trouble have been?" + +He found Randall hastily dressing. Dick looked up at him with what was +meant for a smile. "Can't explain now, Mr. Fenton," he said hurriedly. +"It wasn't my fault. I'm lucky to be here. If it hadn't been for +McDonald and Joe, I shouldn't be. But I'll tell you the whole story +later. I've got just time for my rub-down now." + +For five minutes, McDonald's skilful hands worked over the stiffened +muscles, and as Dick jogged across to the start, he felt that his +speed and spring were in some measure returning. Yet the hundred +yards was disappointing. Johnson ran first, and moved down the track +like a race-horse, traveling in first-class form, and making the +distance in ten and three-fifths. Ellis ran second, and did eleven +flat. Dick, a little unnerved by all he had been through, made a false +start--something most unusual for him--and was set back a yard. Then, +in his anxiety not to commit the same fault a second time, he got away +poorly, and finished in the slowest time of the three--eleven and +one-fifth. It was excellent scoring, for a start, and Johnson was +credited with eighty-three points, Ellis with seventy-five and Dick +with seventy-one. + +With the shot put, the lead changed. Johnson, considering his lighter +weight, performed splendidly, making an even thirty-six feet. Dick +found that his stiffness did not bother him nearly so much as it had +done in the dash, and made his best put of the year, thirty-eight, +nine. But Ellis surpassed himself, and on his last attempt, broke the +league record, with a drive of forty-one, two. His seventy-two points +loomed large, by the side of Dick's sixty and Johnson's forty-seven, +and the score-board showed: + + + Ellis 147 + Randall 131 + Johnson 130 + + +Next, the high jump was called, and all three boys kept up the same +good work. There was small reason, indeed, why they should not have +been at their best. School spirit was rampant; it was to watch them +that these cheering hundreds had crowded the field; every successful +jump, from the lowest height of all, was applauded to the echo. Ellis, +as was expected, was the first to fail, but he managed to clear five +feet, two, and added fifty-four points to his score. Dick, a little +handicapped by the strain of the preceding night, could feel that his +muscles were not quite at their best, yet his long period of careful +training had put him in good shape, and helped out by the excitement +of the competition, he finally cleared five feet, eight. Johnson did +an inch better, and only just displaced the bar at five feet, ten, +scoring seventy-seven points to Dick's seventy-four. The three +competitors were now practically tied, and volley after volley of +cheers rang out across the field from every section of the crowd. + + + Johnson 207 + Randall 205 + Ellis 201 + + +The record was going to be broken, not by one man alone, but by all +three. So much was evident, and the crowd awaited the hurdle race with +the most eager expectancy. Dick ran first, and finished in seventeen +and two-fifths; Ellis, his heavy build telling against him, in spite +of his efforts, could do no better than eighteen, two, and then +Johnson electrified the crowd by coming through, true and strong, in +sixteen, four. His eighty-four points put him well in the lead, while +Randall's seventy-three gave him a clear gain over Ellis, who, with +fifty-eight, now brought up the rear. + + + Johnson 289 + Randall 278 + Ellis 259 + + +And yet, in spite of the score, Hopevale was jubilant. For the one +remaining event was the hammer throw, where Ellis was supreme, and +here they expected to see their champion wipe out his opponents' lead, +and finish a winner, with plenty to spare. + +Each contestant was allowed three throws, and on the first round it +seemed as though the predictions of the home man's admirers were +coming true. Johnson threw one hundred and twenty-two feet and seven +inches; and then Ellis, taking his stand confidently inside the +circle, made a beautiful effort of one hundred and fifty-nine feet. +McDonald figured hastily in his score book, and came up to Randall. +"Don't be scared, Dick," he said, "one hundred and forty-five feet, +and you'll still be ahead of him. And that's only a practice throw for +you now." + +Dick nodded. And yet, although he kept his own counsel, he knew only +too well that the worry and anxiety of his long night's captivity +were at last beginning to make themselves felt. His head felt heavy; +his legs weak; he doubted whether he could make the hundred and +forty-five. And then, taking his turn, his worst fears were realized. +He made a fair throw, indeed, staying well inside the circle, but +there was little dash behind it, and when the scorer announced, "One +hundred and thirty-eight eleven," Dick knew that Ellis was in the +lead. + +In the midst of the Hopevale cheering, Johnson took his second throw, +and improved on his first trial by a couple of feet. McDonald shook +his head. "He's out of it," he said. "A great little man, too, but not +heavy enough for all-round work. It's you or Ellis, now, Dick. Johnson +won't bother either of you for first." + +Dick nodded. Ellis made ready for his second throw with the greatest +care. There was little to criticize in his form. And backed by his +great strength, the hammer seemed scarcely more than a toy in his +hands. As the missile went hurtling through the air, the cheers +redoubled. Even from the spectators' seats it was easy to see that he +had bettered his previous try, and soon the scorer shouted, "One +hundred and sixty-five feet, one inch." + +McDonald whistled. "He's a good man with the weights," he admitted +with reluctance; then figured again. "Dick," he said, "you'll have to +get in one good one. You've got to fetch a hundred and fifty feet, if +you're going to win. Don't stiffen up now. Keep cool, and think it's +only practice. You've done it for me. You can do it now." + +Dick walked forward, and picked up the hammer for his second try. Out +from the grandstand came the Fenton cheer, and then, at the end, his +name "Randall, Randall, Randall!" thrice repeated. Where other +stimulants would have failed, this one was successful. Dick felt his +muscles grow tense as steel. He thought of Putnam, and the race on the +river. "Be game," he whispered to himself, under his breath, and +stepped forward into the ring, his brain clear, his nerves under +control. Once, twice, thrice, he swung the hammer around, his head, +and then, with splendid speed, turned and let it go. Clearly, he had +improved on his former throw. The measurers pulled the tape tight, and +then the announcer called, "One hundred and forty-nine, three." + +McDonald calculated hurriedly; then gave a little exclamation of +astonishment. "A tie," he cried; "that puts you just even, and one +more throw apiece. Three hundred and forty-seven points each. A tie; +that's what it is." + +Near Ellis' side stood a slender, dark young man, who had watched +Dick's appearance on the field with an expression of utter amazement. +Although the day was warm, he had worn, all through the games, a long, +loose coat, of fashionable cut, and now he crowded closer to Ellis' +side. "Pick it up, when I drop it, Dave," he whispered. "It's your +only show. You can't beat one hundred and sixty-five without it." + +A moment later he walked away. And Ellis, stooping, put his hand on a +hammer apparently identical with the two which had been so carefully +weighed and measured before the games had begun. He held it +uncertainly, as if not overjoyed at his burden. Once he turned, and +looked imploringly at the man who had spoken to him. The man frowned +back at him savagely, and Ellis sighed, as if persuaded against his +will. + +And now Johnson made his last throw. He tried desperately, and +improved his record to one hundred and thirty feet. But his chance was +gone, and he knew it, taking his defeat gamely enough, with a smile +and shrug of his shoulders. He had done his best; it was not good +enough; that was all. + +"Ellis; last try," called the clerk of the course. Ellis walked +quickly forward, and got into position. Dick, watching him, seemed to +see a new power and skill in the way in which his rival swung, and +when he delivered the weight, Dick felt his heart sink like lead. Out, +out, it sailed, as though it would never stop. Hopevale was cheering +itself hoarse. It looked like a record throw. And finally the +announcer, scarlet with excitement, cried, in the midst of the hush +that followed his first words, "Mr. Ellis throws one hundred and +seventy-three feet, eight and a quarter inches, a new record for the +league." + +Dick turned to McDonald, but McDonald was no longer at his side. He +was striding away down the field. The man who brought in the hammer, +after each throw, was just starting back with it, when a slight, +dapper fellow accosted him. "I'll carry that in for you," he said +pleasantly, "I'm going that way," and the man, thanking him, gladly +enough relinquished his burden. + +Face to face came the kind-hearted stranger and Duncan McDonald. +McDonald reached out his hand. "I'll thank you for a look at that +weapon," he said grimly. + +The stranger looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?" he asked. + +McDonald grasped the wire handle. "Just exactly what I say," he +rejoined. "You're a wise guy, Alec, but you're up against it this +time. Hand over now; I haven't forgotten old times." + +The young man forced a smile, and then, as McDonald wrenched the +hammer from his grasp, he turned and made off across the field, +swearing fluently under his breath. + +McDonald hurried back to where the judges were standing, arriving just +as Dick was making ready for his last try. "One minute, gentlemen," he +called; "I wish to protest Mr. Ellis' throw, and the hammer it was +made with. I don't believe the hammer is full weight." + +The chief judge looked indignant. "Mr. McDonald," he said, "this is +most unusual. The hammers were carefully weighed before the +competition began. And were found correct. In fact, both of them were +a trifle overweight." + +"But you didn't weigh this one," McDonald insisted. "This one has been +rung in on you. I must ask you to weigh it, please." + +Somewhat grudgingly, the judge complied; then started in astonishment. +He was a partisan of Hopevale, but he was an honest man, and he knew +his duty. "Mr. Announcer," he said quickly; "say at once, please, that +there was a mistake in Mr. Ellis' last throw; that an accident to the +hammer will necessitate giving him another trial." Then, turning to +the officials, he added, "This is exceedingly unfortunate, gentlemen; +this hammer weighs but ten pounds and three-quarters. Does any one +know how it got here?" + +No one answered, and Ellis stepped forward to take his last throw, +this time with a hammer of correct weight. His face was troubled; his +former confidence seemed lacking, and his try fell well short of one +hundred and sixty feet. And then Dick came forward in his turn. The +controversy over the light hammer had given him just the rest he +needed; he made ready for his throw with the utmost coolness, and got +away a high, clean try, that looked good all the way. There was the +beginning of a cheer and then a hush, as the announcer called, "One +hundred and fifty-two, five." + +The cheering began again, yet the result was so close that every one +waited breathlessly for the official posting of the score. A moment's +delay, and then up it went. + + + Randall 350 + Ellis 347 + Johnson 334 + + +And then came the avalanche of wildly cheering spectators. Putnam, +Allen, Brewster and Lindsay were first at Dick's side, and it was on +their shoulders that he was borne across the field, a little overcome, +now that the strain was over, with everything appearing a trifle +dream-like and unreal, yet with three thoughts mingling delightfully +in his mind: that he had won, won in spite of obstacles, fair and +clean; that the Pentathlon shield was his, and best and most glorious +of all, that the challenge cup would come to Fenton--to stay. + +Thus, through the shouting and the cheering, he was carried along in +triumph, and in the midst of it all, one other thought still came to +him--the best thought, perhaps, that can ever come to a boy's mind. +Hopevale Oval had vanished, and in spirit he was a thousand miles +away. "I wonder," he said to himself, with a sudden thrill of +happiness, "I wonder what they'll say at home." + + + + THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Randall, by Ellery H. 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