Themore Fred thought of it the stronger became his conviction that Buck and Billy would be a long time in finding the lonely Masterson farmhouse, that was off the main road.
They had left him going in a direction that was really at right angles to the shortest way there. But then possibly Buck knew of another route. And after all it was none of his business.
Evening had now settled down in earnest. There would be a moon later; but darkness was beginning to shut out the last expiring gleams of daylight.
Fred was feeling pretty "chipper" as he himself expressed it. So far as he could ascertain no serious result had accompanied his fall into that hole, and the exposure that followed the mishap.
His muscles having come back to their old condition, he was running as easily as ever before; and he believed himself to be in splendid condition.
This sudden determination to drop in on Arnold Masterson and his daughter was going to take him a considerable distance out of his way; but what are a few miles to an aspiring young athlete, in training for a hard road race on the morrow? It would really do him good to have the exercise, he believed.
Fred had managed to have a good talk with the Mastersons the last time he was over. He had taken both father and daughter into his confidence, and told them how Squire Lemington, in connection with the powerful syndicate, was trying to swindle his folks out of the rich Alaska claim, which they truly believed belonged to them, and not to the capitalists.
Of course Fred had met with ready sympathy from the occupants of the Arnold Masterson house. They themselves had suffered too recently from the grasping methods of the old Squire not to sympathize with new victims.
And Fred had a double object in telling the story of the missing witness, whose evidence, if it could ever be procured, would settle the lawsuit in favor of the Fentons and against Squire Lemington.
Somehow, he believed that if Hiram Masterson did manage to make his way back to the neighborhood of Riverport, bent on righting a great wrong, as he had written in that strangenote from Hong Kong, he would be apt to hunt up his brother, whom he had evidently not seen on his last visit.
Now he was at the cross-roads tavern, known as Hitchen's, and running easily. He did not neglect to follow out the instructions which he had received from the old college graduate and coach, Mr. Shays, about breathing through his nose, and holding himself fairly erect. Only in the mad dash of the last stretch could a well trained athlete be forgiven for neglecting these precautions; since so much depends on their being constantly employed in order to insure staying qualities.
Presently Fred found himself in familiar regions. He vividly remembered the cross-country run, when he and Bristles came upon the well under the apple tree, and were startled at sounds of groans issuing forth from that place.
Now he could just make it out in the gathering gloom; but really he gave it only a passing glance, for his attention was directed toward the farmhouse, where in a lower window he could see a lamp burning.
Fred did not mean to be inquisitive, and would not have thought of going a foot out of his way in order to peer in at that window; but as he had to pass it by on his way to the door, he naturally glanced in.
Then he stopped to look again. Evidently the Mastersons had company, for there were three at the supper table, upon which a bountiful array of enticingly cooked food could be seen; for the good people of Riverport had brought out enough provisions to last them half way through the coming winter.
This might make some difference with Fred's plans.
"Perhaps I ought not to break in on them if they have company," he was saying to himself, as he continued to look through the window. "But I've come so far now, I kind of hate to give over the idea of saying something to Mr. Masterson. Perhaps he'll come to the door if I knock. I could tell him about Buck, to begin with; and might get a chance to speak of his letting us know if anything happened that he thought would interest the Fenton family. Yes, I'll try it."
Before turning away he took another passing glance at the stranger, who seemed to be an elderly man with gray hair and a beard of the same color. Whatever he was saying, both Mr. Masterson and Sarah seemed to be hanging on his words as if they were deeply interested.
Fred gave a sigh. He was secretly disappointed, to tell the truth. Perhaps he had conceived a faint expectation that somethingabout the man might seem familiar; for he had not forgotten how the returned Alaska miner, Hiram Masterson, had looked when he rode about in Squire Lemington's carriage. But there was not the least resemblance so far as he could note between this elderly person and the gay-looking young miner.
"I was foolish to ever think that," Fred said to himself, as he again started in the direction of the farmhouse door.
In this mood, then he reached the door, and knocked. The sound echoed through the house, for Fred had laid his knuckles rather heavily on the upper panel of the double Dutch door.
He heard a scuffling sound, to indicate that chairs had been hurriedly pushed back. Apparently, then, his knock had created something of a little panic within, though Fred could hardly understand why that should be so.
After waiting a reasonable time, without either Sarah or her father coming to the door, Fred again gave a knock.
"Mr. Masterson!" Fred called out, in the hope that his voice might happen to be recognized, so as to allay their fears.
Then he saw that someone was coming in answer to his second summons. Under the door appeared a thin thread of light. This announced that the door between had been opened,and a lamp was being carried into the front room.
Fred wondered just at that moment whether it would be Sarah or her father who might open the door. He knew Mr. Masterson was recovering his strength; but still he must be more or less weak, after a spell of sickness. And in that event Sarah was apt to be the one to come.
Well, he would ask to see her father then, so as to get a few minutes conversation with the other. Sarah would be surprised to see him, of course, at this queer hour, and in his running costume.
Fred almost wished now he had changed his mind, and turned away before giving that knock. But it was too late. He could hear someone drawing back the bolt by which the door was fastened. The Mastersons had gone through one unpleasant experience, and they did not want another, if such a small thing as a new bolt on the door would ward it off.
Now the door had begun to open, and Fred allowed a smile to come upon his face in anticipation of the look of surprise he felt sure would welcome him.
As it happened, however, the surprise was pretty much the other way. The door suddenly flew open, at least the upper half of it did, and Arnold Masterson thrust the muzzle of a double-barrel shotgun through the opening, at the same time exclaiming:
"Now be off with you, or I'll give you a dose of buck shot that you won't like!"
He had just managed to say this when he stared at the figure standing there. Of course Fred had been startled when so suddenly confronted by the armed and angry farmer; but he immediately recovered.
"Hold on, Mr. Masterson, don't you know me? It's Fred Fenton!" he exclaimed.
The farmer seemed too surprised for words. But he did hasten to unfasten the remaining part of the Dutch door, and seize hold of the boy by the short sleeve of his running tunic.
"Fred Fenton, of all things, and right now too, when we were just talking about your folks. Come in, my boy, come in. This is a piece of great luck now. Whatever brings you away up here just at the time we wanted to see you most? Great news for you, Fred! He's come home again, and is right in there. Sarah wanted him to hide, because she thought it was one of my uncle's spies hanging around; but I said no, that they'd never believe it was him, not in a year of Sundays."
"Who?" gasped Fred, feeling weak; but with a great expectation that caused him to tremble all over.
The farmer patted him on the back as he went on to say, joyfully:
"It's my brother Hiram, come back to right the wrong he helped do your people; and defy Uncle Sparks to his face. This is going to be a happy night for you, Fred; a happy night, my boy!"
"Hiramcome back!"
That was about all Fred could say. After all these dreary months, with hope so long deferred, it was hard to understand that the splendid news could be true. Oh! what joy it would bring in his home, when he arrived to tell the story! In imagination even at that first moment, Fred could see the tired face of his mother light up with thankfulness; and his father taking her in his arms, to shelter her head on his broad shoulder.
For the return of Hiram meant that the truth must be told about that false claim the powerful syndicate had put in for the property left to Mr. Fenton by his brother Fred, up in Alaska; and which had seemed so necessary to the working of the mines really owned by the big company that they had been willing to do almost anything to get possession of the same.
"Yes, that's him in yonder; but nobody'd ever know it, he's got himself up so smart," thefarmer said, proudly, as he closed and bolted the doors again, ere leading the way into the other room.
Fred saw the supposed old man stare hard at him as he followed Mr. Masterson into the room; but of course Sarah immediately recognized him.
"Why, I declare if it isn't Fred Fenton himself; and he's been practicing for the road race to-morrow!" she exclaimed. "You remember, Uncle, I was telling you he meant to take part in it. Do you know who this is, Fred? Has father told you?"
"Yes, and I'm mighty glad to see him here," said Fred, as he accepted the brown and calloused hand which the man, who had been kidnapped by orders of the combine, thrust out toward him, to wince under the hearty pressure on his fingers.
"I tell you, Fred," remarked Hiram, with a broad smile, "I'm just as glad to be here again, after all I've gone through with, as you can be to see me. They certainly did keep me hustling, from one captain to another. I've been in the harbors of half the countries of the world, I reckon, since they took me away."
"And you see," spoke up Sarah, eager to have a hand in the telling; "The captains of the different boats that were in the pay of this big company had the word passed along to them. They gave it out that he was weak in his head. So whenever Uncle tried to tell his story, the sailors used to pretend to be interested, but wink at each other, as if to say: 'there he goes ranting about being carried off, just like the captain said he would.' So he never could get to mail a letter till in Hong Kong, when he managed to escape. Even then they chased him; and he says he only got away in the end by jumping into the bay, and pretending to stay under the water."
"But couldn't you manage to escape when the ship put in at some port?" Fred asked, being very curious.
"They always looked out for that," replied Hiram, with a sad shake of his head. "Sometimes I was accused of starting a mutiny, and put in irons, as well as shut up in the lazerette. More'n a few times they gave me a dose that took away my senses, and I didn't know even my name until we'd made the open sea again. It was all managed in the smartest way you ever heard about; and I'm shaking hands with myself right now to know that in the end I managed to upset their plans."
Fred suddenly remembered something that Buck had let fall when speaking about the conditions existing at his home.
"I guess someone must have been sendingword to Mr. Lemington about your getting away," he remarked.
"What makes you say that?" asked Hiram, looking uneasy.
Fred, in as few words as possible related what had happened up in the deserted limestone quarry, when Buck and his little brother Billy found him caught in a trap.
"He said his father was already in a bad humor," Fred went on, "and that he must have had news that upset him; because there was an open letter that had a foreign stamp on it, on the library table. Perhaps that letter was from Hong Kong or somewhere else, and told the delayed story of your escape."
"Now that sounds reasonable, Hiram," remarked the farmer; "and if Sparks Lemington knows you're on your way home, to upset all his nice calculations, p'raps he might even have this house watched so as to get you again before you did any damage, by swearing to your story before Judge Colon and witnesses."
"And I believe Buck is leading his little brother right here now," Fred went on to remark. "He wants to give his father a scare by having Billy gone, and expects in that way he may escape punishment for his tricks. You know they think a heap of little Billy over there."
"And only for you he might have beendrowned," said Sarah. "Seems to me you do nothing else but go around, helping get unlucky people out of trouble. I was telling Uncle what you did for me."
"And he'll never have cause to regret it, mark my words," said Hiram, resolutely. "I've come back to let light in on them rascally land pirates' doings. Soon's they learn that I've sworn to my story before the judge, you'll see how quick they'll open up communications with your dad, and be offerin' him a tremendous sum to sell out; because they just need that property the worst you ever saw."
"But if Buck comes here he might smell a rat, and let his father know," remarked Arnold Masterson, nervously. "It's bad enough to be worrying about tramps, without expecting to have your house raided by spies in the pay of a combine of shrewd business men. I've got a good notion to make out nobody's at home, if the boys get here. Then they'd just have to move on, and find another place to stay."
"I rather think they'd camp out in your barn then, Mr. Masterson," remarked Fred.
"What makes you think that?" asked the farmer, looking keenly at the boy.
"Well," Fred continued, "in the first place, little Billy will be so tired out after his long tramp, he never could get any further. ThenBuck wants to hide for a while, and he'll make up his mind that if you are gone away, you'll be back to-morrow morning. Why, he's that bold, he might try to break in, if he thinks the house is empty."
"I tell you what we'd better do," said Hiram, who had evidently been doing considerable deep thinking meanwhile.
"As what?" questioned his brother.
"Let the boys come on in when they get here; they won't find anybody besides you and Sarah home," the returned wanderer declared, smiling broadly.
"Where will you be, Uncle Hiram; asleep in the hay out in the barn?" asked the girl.
"Me? Not much," returned the other. "Because I'm of a mind to go home with Fred here, and have the whole thing over with this same night."
"Oh! I wish you would; but it's a pretty long walk for you, to Riverport," declared the boy, with considerable enthusiasm.
"Oh! as to that, I reckon brother Arnold here knows of a farmer not a great ways off, he could send a note to by you and me," Hiram went on to say; "I've got plenty of hard cash in my jeans, and we'll hire the rig to take us to Riverport. Perhaps we might let him think, you see, that Fred got hurt running, and ought to be takenback home in a buggy. How about it, Arnold?"
"A pretty good scheme, I must say," replied the other. "Did you have enough supper, Hiram; and are you ready to take the bull by the horns right now?"
"Strike while the iron is hot; that's always been my motto," replied the returned miner, as he reached for his slouch hat; and took up the overcoat he had worn, which had a high collar that could be used to muffle his face if necessary.
"And as the night air is sharp and frosty, I'll lend Fred some clothes to keep him warm," said the farmer.
In ten minutes all this was done, and Fred led the way along the road in the direction he supposed Buck and his little brother would come. He was listening all the while, even while conversing with Hiram in low tones. Presently, when they had gone about half a mile, he heard the growling voice of Buck Lemington not far away.
"Keep a-goin' Billy; we're not far away from there now; and I guess they won't refuse to let us in, and give us some grub. Here, take hold of my hand, and I'll help you along all I can. It was mighty nice for you to come with me, Billy, and I won't forget it; because I never saw the governor so mad before, never!"
So while Fred and Hiram hid in the bushes,the two figures passed by. Fred realized that if there was one spark of good left in the bully of Riverport, it consisted in his affection for that smaller brother.
Soon afterward they came to the farm where the horse and buggy were to be secured. There was no trouble whatever.
"This is something like," remarked Hiram, gleefully, as they sped over the road in the direction of the town, the lights of which could be seen glimmering in the distance, whenever the travelers happened to be crossing a rise.
No doubt Fred was the happiest fellow in all Riverport when he finally drove up in front of his humble home, and, with Hiram, jumped out.
As he looked in through the window he could see his father and mother, and his three small sisters, Josie, Rebecca and Ruth, all seated at the supper table, with one chair vacant.
Fred opened the door and walked in. All of them looked up, to smile at seeing how strange the boy appeared in the odd garments loaned by the farmer.
"Father, and mother," said Fred, trying to control his shaky voice; "I've brought you company." Then he closed the door, walked over, and pulled down the shades, and turning again went on to say: "Here's somebody who's comefrom the other side of the world to see you all. Yes, mother, it's Hiram, and he's bound that this very night will see his sworn testimony taken by Judge Colon in the presence of reliable witnesses, so that the great Alaska claim will be settled for good. Hurrah!"
"Thisbeats any crowd ever seen along the Mohunk!"
That seemed to be the opinion of almost everybody, as they looked at the densely packed grandstand, at the throng in the extra tiers of seats raised to accommodate those who would pay a bonus in order to insure comfort; and finally the thousands who crowded the spaces back of the protecting ropes, all along the oval running track that, twice around, made exactly a quarter of a mile.
It was a glorious October day; in fact many declared that "the clerk of the weather had given Riverport the glad hand this time, for sure," since not a cloud broke the blue dome overhead, and the sun was just pleasantly warm.
In the grandstand a group of girls and boys belonging to Riverport had gathered early, having seats adjacent. And how merrily the tongues did clatter as Cissy Anderson called attention to the clever way in which Sid Wells carried himself, which remark would of coursereach the boy's ears in good time, as his sister, Mame, who felt almost like crying because she could not be in line with these bold athletes, was present, and heard everything.
Flo Temple cast admiring eyes toward the spot where Fred, clad in his running trunks and sleeveless white shirt, talked with the track captain, Brad Morton. For deep down in her girlish heart, Flo felt certain that ere the day had come to a close Fred was sure to win new glory for Riverport school.
The arrangements for the athletic meet had been carefully worked out. In the first place there was a Director of the games, in whose hands every important question was placed for disposal. A gentleman residing in Paulding of late, who had gained considerable fame himself as an athlete in college, had been chosen director. His name was De Camp, and he was said to be a member of the wonderful family who have figured so prominently in college athletics in the past.
Then there was a referee, really the most important of all officers, whose decision was to settle every close match. The starter was to have charge of each competition, measuring distances accurately, so that there should be no reason for dissatisfaction. A number of gentlemen had been asked to serve as inspectors, toassist the referee, especially in the running matches, and the five mile road competition in particular, being stationed at certain points along the course to observe how the numerous contestants behaved, and penalize those who broke the rules.
Of course there were the usual official scorers, timers, three judges for finishes, and an equal number for the field events. These judges were to measure each performance, and give to the scorer the exact distance covered. According to the rules they had no power to disqualify or penalize a contestant; but they could make alterations in the program, so as to excuse a contestant from his field event in order to appear in his track contest, and allow him to take his missing turn after he had had a reasonable rest.
The hour had now come for the first event on the long program to be carried out, and the field was cleared of all persons, whether contestants or their admiring clusters of friends, who had gathered to give a last good word.
When the master of ceremonies stepped out, the waves of sound gradually died away.
"Silence! silence! let Mr. De Camp talk!" was heard here and there; and even the most gossipy girls dared not exchange words after that.
The director, in a few happily chosen remarks,told of the great benefit to be derived from school athletics, when properly conducted. He also declared that the right sort of friendly competition or rivalry between neighboring schools, bent upon excelling in various channels of athletics, was calculated to inspire a proper ambition to win. And above all, he observed that in such friendly contests the best of good will should prevail, so that the vanquished might feel the sting of defeat as little as possible.
"Be true sportsmen, boys," he finished by saying; "remember in the flush of your victory that there is another fellow who was just as eager to win as you were, who is feeding on the husks of defeat. Give him a hearty cheer for his pluck. It can only add to your own glory, and speaks well for your heart. That is all I want to say. The announcer will now tell you the character of the first competition."
Mechanicsburg showed up in a formidable way early in the program. Bristles Carpenter for Riverport, and Ogden for Paulding, brought out a round of applause when they cleared the bar in the high jump; but after it had been raised several notches above their best record, Angus Smith, who used to play such a clever game out in left for Mechanicsburg, easily crossed over, amid deafening cheers.
So the first event fell to the town up the river.
"Oh! that's only a taste!" boasted a Mechanicsburg boy, close to the bevy of now rather subdued Riverport girls; "we've got plenty of that kind. Just wait, and you'll be greatly surprised, girls. Mechanicsburg has been keeping quiet; but oh! you Riverport! this is a day you'll never, never forget! It spells Waterloo for yours!"
"We've heard that sort of talk before, Tody Guffey," remarked Mame Wells, defiantly; "and when the end came where was Mechanicsburg? Why, in the gravy, of course. We never yet started out well. Riverport needs something to stir her blood, in order to make her boys do their best. Now watch, and see what happens."
However, Mame, splendid "rooter" for the home squad that she was, could not claim much glory as a prophet; for the next event was also captured by the hustling school team from the up-river town.
It was a standing jump, and again did the long-legged Smith show his wonderful superiority as an athlete, by beating the best the other boys could put up.
Of course the cheers that rose were at first mostly those of the visitors. Visions of a grand victory that would wipe out the string of many a previous defeat, began to float before the minds of those who shouted, and waved hats, flags and scarfs. The whole assemblage seemed to be for Mechanicsburg, in fact; but then the same thingwould be apt to show when either of the other schools made a win. At such times enthusiasm goes wild, and those who are enjoying the contests are ready to cheer anything, so long as they can make a noise.
"Now we'll see a change, I guess," laughingly remarked Mame, when it was announced that the next event would be a quarter mile sprint, with just three entries, one from each school.
"Oh! you Colon!" shouted scores of Riverport boys as the tall athlete came forward with his customary slouching gait, that seemed a part of his nature; though he could straighten up when he wanted, well enough.
They were off like rabbits as the pistol sounded, and the greatest racket broke forth as they went flying around the track. Colon kept just behind the other two. He was craftily watching their work, and coolly calculating just when it would be necessary for him to "put his best foot forward."
Once they went around, with Paulding leading slightly, but Mechanicsburg going strong, and Riverport just "loafing in the rear," as one of the boys expressed it. But those who were experienced could see that the wonderful Colon was just toying with his rivals.
"Right now he could dig circles around them both!" yelled little Semi-Colon, who had theutmost faith in his cousin's ability to accomplish every task set for him.
"Now they're three quarters done, and at the other end of the track;" said Flo Temple; "Oh! please, please, don't delay too long, Colon!"
"Let out a link, Colon!" shrieked a megaphone holder.
"Look at him, would you; he heard you shout, all right, Sandy!" cried one boy.
"He's got wings! He's sure flying!" whooped another.
"Say jumping like a big kangaroo! Call that running? They'll disqualify him, you mark me, Riverport!" shrieked a disappointed Mechanicsburg rooter, as he saw the local sprinter shoot past both the others as though they were standing still; and come toward the finish.
"Riverport wins!" was the shout that arose on all sides.
"Wait!" answered the backers of the up-river school; "we didn't have our best man, Wagner, in that sprint; we're saving him for the next, when your wonder will be winded more or less. And the third sprint will be a walkover. Oh! shout while you have the chance, Riverport; but all the same your cake is going to be dough. We've taken your number, and the count is two against one, so far. Mechanicsburg! All together now; three more cheers, boys!"
Fred Fentonwas in the throng that welcomed thevictoriousColon. He had heard that remark of a Mechanicsburg lad about the plan arranged to wear Colon down by putting a fresh man in against him with the second sprint, this time for half a mile. And it set Fred thinking.
He had himself been entered for the second and third sprint; but because the five mile road race was of such vast importance, the track captain had prevailed upon Fred not to make either of the others, leaving them to the marvelous Colon to take care of.
Several more events were pulled off in rapid succession, showing how well organized the tournament seemed to be, in the hands of competent men. One of these happenings was a sack race, which afforded great amusement to the crowd, and gave Paulding her first score, to the uproarious delight of everybody.
"Paulding cancrawlto victory, anyhow!" shouted the megaphone boy, derisively.
"That's better than crawling after getting licked!" answered a resolute backer of the town down the river, "that never gave up until the last man was down."
When the basket ball game of the girls, between Paulding and Mechanicsburg first, and then Riverport against the victor of the first round, was called, everybody sat up and took notice.
It was a spirited game, and Paulding girls proved themselves superior to those of the rival town, for they finally won. Then their team was patched up with a couple to replace those who were tired out; after which they started to show Riverport what they knew about basketball.
And sure enough, in the end they did carry the Paulding colors to victory; though it was a close decision; and if the balance of the home team could have shown the same class that little Mame Wells put into her playing, it would have been a walkover for Riverport.
Colon came to the scratch, smiling and confident, when the half mile run over the track was called. So did that fellow up the river, who had always been such a hard player to down, when Riverport tackled her rival in baseball, or on the gridiron—Felix Wagner, the best all-round athlete of which Mechanicsburg boasted.
It was seen that Colon did not mean to followthe same tactics in this sprint of the half mile. He knew that he was up against a different sort of man now, than in the first event of his class. And when the three competitors passed for the third time the grandstand, they were pretty evenly bunched, each jealously watching lest one of the others get an advantage.
Amid a din of cheering they reached the other end of the track, all going strong.
"Now watch Colon hump himself!" shouted the megaphone boy.
"There he goes! Ain't he the kangaroo though?" bawled another.
"But keep your eye on Wagner, will you? He's flying like the wind. Better believe your wonder will have to do his prettiest right now, with that hurricane at his heels. Go it, Felix; you can win it! Wagner! Wagner! He's going to do it! Hoop-la! Me-chan-icsburg forever!"
Wagner was coming like a bird, and his flying feet seemed hardly to touch the ground. The Paulding contestant appeared to be so far outclassed that some people imagined he must be almost standing still; but he was doing his best, poor fellow.
Apparently Colon heard the sound of Wagner close at his shoulder as the other made a last spurt, meaning to pass him. Colon had just one more "kink" to let loose, and as he did so hebounded ahead, passing the string some five feet in front of the second entry.
The roar of cheers that arose suddenly died out.
"Look at Colon! Something happened to him! That last spurt must have ruptured a blood vessel! That settles the third race, because Wagner will have it easy!"
The marshal and his many assistants had some difficulty in keeping order while a crowd of athletes gathered around Colon, who had fallen headlong after breasting the tape, and lay there on the ground.
Presently the director appeared, and waved his hand for silence, remarking:
"I regret to say that the winner of the last half mile sprint sprained his ankle just as he clinched his victory, and will be utterly unable to take part in any other contest to-day. We are glad it is no more serious injury; and one and all extend to him our sympathy, as well as our admiration for the game fight he has put up!"
Brad Morton helped Colon to a seat, where he could have his swollen ankle properly attended to, and at the same time watch the progress of the tournament; for Colon stubbornly refused to let them take him home.
The face of the track captain was marked with uneasiness. Mechanicsburg was evidently in thisthing to win, and meant to make every point count. Right then the two schools seemed to be moving along, neck and neck, each having seven points in their favor, with several events coming that were altogether uncertain.
Hence, that third half mile run over the track might eventually prove to be the turning point, upon which final victory or defeat would hinge.
With Colon, the unbeaten sprinter, down, who was there to take his place against that fleet-footed Wagner, who would be fairly recovered by the time the last sprint was called?
Rapidly did Brad run over in his mind his available entries, and putting each in competition with Wagner, he shook his head. Sid Wells could not be depended on to keep his head in a final pinch. He usually did well in the beginning of a hot race, but when there was a call for held-back energies, Sid could not "deliver the goods," as Brad knew.
Besides, there was Corney Shays, a speedy runner for short distances, but with poor wind. Half a mile was too much for Corney; had it been a quarter, now, Brad would have felt tempted to try him against Wagner.
He looked anxiously toward Fred, and the other smiled. An odd three-legged race was taking place at the time, each school having an entry; and amiduproariousshouts the contestantswere falling down, getting mixed in their partners, and exciting all sorts of comments.
"I'm willing to make the try if you say so, Brad," Fred remarked, for he could easily read what was in the mind of the anxious Brad.
"If only I was sure that it wouldn't interfere with your work in the five mile run, I'd be tempted to let you go into it," the track captain declared; "but you know that short Marathon has been thought so important that it was given three points, to one for all other events. We've justgotto win that, or we're gone. Do you really and truly think you could stand both, Fred?"
"I sure do," replied the other, confidently; "and besides, you can get the field judges to put the five mile off until the very last, so as to give me time to recover. Nobody can object to that."
"How about having the third sprint moved up in line; that would widen the gap between your two entries, Fred?" remarked Brad, the gloom beginning to leave his face, as he saw a way out of the trouble.
"Never do in the wide world," replied Fred; "because that would shorten Wagner's time for recovery after his last race. And lots of fellows would say it was done purposely to give us a winning chance. No, my plan is the better, Brad."
Other events were being run off in succession. The shot-put came to Riverport, Dave Hanshaw proving himself superior at this sort of game to any of those entered in competition. Jumping the hurdles went to the steady-pulling up-river town. And when the third sprint was called, once again were Mechanicsburg and Riverport tied for points.
When Fred toed the scratch alongside Felix Wagner and the new Paulding sprinter, he did not underestimate either of his antagonists. And after they were off like greyhounds let free from the leash, he adopted the tactics that had won so handily for Colon in the first race, lagging just behind the others, and observing how they ran, while making the circuit of the track three times.
Thus he knew to a fraction just what resources Wagner had left when the critical stage was reached for the final spurt. Felix was already beginning to feel his previous race. That heart-breaking finish against Colon had told on him more than he had expected it would. And Fred believed he would have no great difficulty in displacing him, when the time came.
On the way to the finish all of them increased their already fast pace, until they were fairly skimming along the level track as though they had wings. But Fred proved to have considerably more reserve powers than either of hiscompetitors. Well had he gauged the distance; and when just about one hundred yards from the finish he was seen to pass both Wagner and the Paulding runner, coming in an easy winner, amid the terrific cheers of the excited throng, everybody being upon his or her feet, waving flags, hats, handkerchiefs, and shouting themselves fairly hoarse to indicate what they thought of the clever tactics of the Riverport boy.
And when the pleased Brad clapped Fred on the back he remarked:
"Elegantly done, my boy; only I do hope it won't tell on you in the biggest event of the meet; the five mile run. For they're pressing us hard, and we'll need every one of those three points, Fred; remember that!"
"You'redoing yourself proud to-day, Fred," remarked Bristles Carpenter, as he dropped down beside the other, who had donned his sweater-jacket, so that he might not take cold, and thus stiffen his muscles before being called upon to toe the mark again, toward the end of the meet, for the road race.
"Well, I feel just like a bird, and that's a fact, Bristles," replied Fred, as he turned smilingly upon his chum. "Everything seems to be coming my way, outside of this athletic meet, you know."
"I heard Colon tell how you and your father came over to his uncle's last night, bringing a stranger along with you; and that he turned out to be the witness you've been looking for so long—Hiram Masterson. Say, that was the name of that farmer and his girl we helped that time; wasn't it, Fred?"
"Sure," answered the other, for he felt thatso faithful a friend as Bristles ought to be taken into his confidence, now that all danger was over. "He and Hiram are brothers, and both of 'em are nephews of Squire Lemington."
"And by the way, I don't see Buck's face around; what d'ye reckon happened to him to keep him away, when he's so set on athletics?"
So Fred, seeing his chance, explained in a few sentences all that had happened on the preceding afternoon. Great was the astonishment of Bristles.
"Talk to me about luck, there never was anything to equal yours, Fred!" he declared, as he shook hands warmly. "And so Hiram gave all his evidence under oath, and in the presence of witnesses, so there's no chance of his being kidnapped again, I guess. That'll knock the old syndicate silly; eh?"
"It has already, they tell me," Fred went on, composedly. "Word must have been sent to Squire Lemington, for early this morning he was down at the telegraph office wiring his chief, and getting an answer. My father has received a message from the Squire saying that he and the president of the big company would be glad to make an appointment with him, for the purpose of talking over business matters. And he also said that he felt sure they could come to some agreement that would be satisfactory to bothsides, and so avoid the expense and delay of a lawsuit."
"Bully! bully, all around; that must mean a hundred thousand or two for your folks. But I hope you keep your eye out for that tricky Squire, Fred. If there's any loop-hole for treachery he'll find it, mark me."
"Oh! we're in the hands of Judge Colon now; and you can catch a weasel asleep sooner than he could be found napping. Rest easy, Bristles, the game's already won, and the fun over, all but the shouting."
"Isn't it great, though? And all these months you've been going around with a cheery smile on your face, Fred, when you carried a heavy load of worry. You don't care if I mention these things to my folks; do you?"
"Not a bit of it," answered the other, briskly. "We've had to keep things quiet long enough; and now that the tide's turned our way we want everybody to know the facts. Tell it as often as you please; only don't be too personal about the share Squire Lemington had in the carrying off of Hiram. We've got no actual proof, you know, about that."
"There goes our Dave at it again, throwing the discus," remarked Bristles; "it's a dead sure thing we win this event. And if I hadn't fallen down in my turn, Riverport would be just twopoints more ahead of her closest rivals. But I'm going to take up training next time. I've learned my weak point, and I hope to cure it."
"There's a happy boy, if there's one here," said Fred, nodding his head in the direction of a rather sturdily-set young chap, who stood watching the throwing of the weight; and whose presence in running trunks and sleeveless shirt announced that he expected to make one of the races.
"Why, it's Gabe Larkins, for a fact; I didn't know he was in this thing at all," Bristles ventured.
"Yes, you may remember that he used to say he was fond of all outdoor sports; but never had time to take part in them," Fred went on to remark. "Well, Brad found that he was a clever runner, and he coaxed him to practice a little on the sly. He used to be a Riverport schoolboy, you see, before he was taken out to go to work; so he was eligible for entry. And I really believe he's going to prove a valuable find yet."
"Talking about training, I heard Mr. De Camp say he didn't believe in too much of that sort of thing for boys," Bristles volunteered.
"Yes, I heard him say that, and he explained it too," Fred went on with. "You see, a boy is in the process of the making. He can stand just so much, and if he exceeds his powers he maywork irreparable ruin to his system. He said that a boy ought never to be trained as grown athletes are. His training ought to be just play. He must be shown how to do things properly, and then allowed to go about it in his own way. Give him an example of how the thing should be done, and then let him play his own game."
A wild burst of cheering stopped their conference, and Bristles jumped up to ascertain what caused it.
"Of course Dave just beat his own high water mark," he called out; "and neither of the others is in the same class, just what I said would happen. Another point for us. But the next lot look dangerous, I'm afraid."
They proved to be more than that, for two points went to the up-river town as the wrestling match, and the three-standing jump contest were decided in their favor by the impartial judges. As yet there had not been heard the least criticism of the way these gentlemen conducted their part of the affair. While in several close decisions there may have been many disappointed lads, still it was fully believed that the judges were working squarely to give each contestant a fair deal, and favor no one at the expense of others.
A comical potato race next sent the crowds into convulsions of laughter. And of course Pauldinghad to win that. How the others did rub it into the advocates of the down-river school; but they only grinned, and accepted the gibes with becoming modesty.
"Oh! we're strong on all the games that go to make up the real thing," one of the baseball squad remarked, grinning amiably at the chaff of his friends. "You see, potatoes go to make up life for a big part of the human race; and we're after 'em, good and hard. And our girls are helping us out handsomely. We take off our hats to the fair sex. Paulding is all right, if a little slow sometimes."
In that spirit the various contests were being carried out. Small danger of any serious trouble arising between the three schools when their young people showed such true sportsmanlike qualities in their competitions, keen-set though they were to win a victory.
The afternoon was wearing on, and the enthusiasm did not seem to wane in the slightest degree. True, a lot of the boys were getting quite hoarse from constant shouting; but others took up the refrain, while they contented themselves with making frantic gestures, and throwing up cushions, hats, and canes whenever they felt the spirit to create a disturbance rioting within them.
Brad Morton kept hovering near Fred as thecontest went on, and it began to look more and more like a tie between the two schools, when the great and concluding five mile road race was called.
He asked many times how Fred felt, and if there was anything like rubbing down he needed, in order to limber up some muscle that might not feel just right.
"Not a thing, Brad," the other remarked, waving his hand toward the grandstand as he saw Flo Temple flaunting her flag at him meaningly. "I tell you I never felt in better trim than I do right now—as fine as silk. And unless something unexpected happens to me on the road, I'm going to bring those three tallies home for Riverport, or know the reason why. After all that's happened lately to make me happy, I just don't see how I could lose. Quit worrying, Brad."
And under this inspiring kind of talk the track captain did brace up, so that he even allowed a smile to creep over his grim face.
"Well, you're the one to give a fellow tone, and make him feel good, Fred," he remarked. "I reckon you feel confident without being too sure; and that's the way a fellow competing against others ought to feel. He's just got to believe in himself up to the last second; and in lots of cases that same confidence wins out. But I wish you hadn't had to take part in that half-mile sprint. It might have done something that you'll find out after you get well into the long race."
"Oh! let up, won't you, Brad?" urged Fred. "I tell you I'm in perfect condition. And I'll prove it pretty soon, you see; for it's getting near the time for my run right now."
Throughout the grandstand they were already talking of that long five mile run, which was bound to excite more interest than any other event of this glorious day of sports.
"They say Fenton strained a tendon in his foot, and limps already," one of the up-river fellows remarked, with a wink toward his comrades; for he knew how quickly Mame Wells would take up cudgels for her colors.
"Oh! he has; eh?" she exclaimed derisively; "very well, Mort Cambridge, just you step out and tell your runners they'd better be straining some oftheirtendons, because they'll need everything that Fred Fenton's got, if they want to be in sight when he comes romping home. A strained tendon, humph! Look at him walking across the field right now; did you ever see anybody have a more springy step than that? Isn't it so, Flo?" and there was a shout, as the doctor's daughter, with a flushed face but with sparkling eyes, nodded her head defiantly.
"How does the score stand?" asked someone, breathlessly.
"Eleven for Mechanicsburg, to thirteen for Riverport, and five for Paulding."
"And only the road race left on the calendar, which counts three points. Then it will settle the championship; for the side that comes in ahead there will win in number of points, Mechanicsburg just nosing over, while we'd have five to the good."
"And here's the director going to announce the race, while the other man will name all the contestants entered to take part. My! what a big bunch there are; and how exciting it promises to be. But I'm pinning my faith on Fred Fenton to win."
And pretty Flo Temple gave the speaker a grateful look, because he voiced her sentiments exactly.
"They'reoff!" was the cry.
With the crack of the pistol the long string of runners left the line. Most of them had been crouching in some favorite attitude that allowed a quick start.
The course was to take them from the field over to the road, and then along this for exactly two and a half miles, until a turning point was reached, when the return trip would begin.
Inspectors were stationed at various distances along the course; and judges stood guard at the turning stake, to make sure that every contestant went the full limit before heading for home.
In the three schools there were eleven contestants in all—four for Riverport, the same number for her up-river rival, and three belonging to Paulding. Each boy had a large number fastened on his back and chest, so thathe could be plainly recognized by this for some little distance.
Fred was Number Seven, while the crack long-distance runner of Mechanicsburg, the wonderful Boggs, had been given Number One. And there were many persons who believed firmly that the race was destined to be between these two boys, champions of their respective schools.
In such a long race the interest does not get fully awakened until several miles have been passed over. And in order that those on the athletic field might not be wholly without some shreds of information while the runners were far away, the managers had influenced some of the boys to arrange a code of signals, to be worked by operators at the other end of the two and a half mile turn.
There was a hill in plain sight of both beginning and turn. On this a pine tree had been stripped of its branches; and a clothes line stretched to a pulley near its top. When the first runner turned the half-way stake a boy right on the ground would wave a certain flag, so that the lads up on the hill could see it.
On their part they were to run up a flag of a similar color to tell the waiting throng which school was in the lead at the half-way post. Then, when a second contestant came along, his advent would also be recorded.
Red meant that Mechanicsburg was in the lead; blue that Riverport had the advantage; while green stood for Paulding.
There was a cluster of runners well up in the lead when they began to vanish from the view of the spectators. Then the others were strung out; until last of all a Riverport fellow jogged along, as though he saw no reason for haste so early in the game.
Still, there could be no telling just where that same laggard might be when the runners turned and headed for the home stake. He might be playing the waiting game that so often proves fruitful in such races.
While the contestants were out of sight the crowd enjoyed itself by sending all sorts of shouts back and forth. Sometimes loud outbursts of laughter greeted some happy remark from a bright schoolboy or girl.
"Ought to be seeing something right soon now," remarked one of the crowd, as he looked anxiously toward the signal station on the top of the hill two miles away.
"That's right."
"I've been timing 'em," said another; "and you're just right; they ought to be about there by now."
"Hi! look! there goes a flag up the mast!" shrieked a voice.
"It's green too!" howled a frantic Paulding backer.
"Oh! come off! can't you tell a red flag when you see it? Mechanicsburg's turned the half-way stake in the lead! Didn't we say Boggs was there with the goods?"
"And a yard wide too!"
"There goes a second flag up, showing that he isn't far ahead, anyway!"
"What's that color? The sun hurts my eyes, and I can't just make it out?"
"Green! Green! This time you can't say it isn't! Hurrah! Paulding is close on the heels of the leader. The great Boggs may trip up yet, boys."
"Oh! where is your great wonder, Riverport? What's happened to Fred Fenton, do you suppose?"
"There he goes around the stake now; and the three leaders are pretty well bunched. It looks like anybody's battle yet, fellows. And may the best man win!"
It was true that the blue flag had followed close upon the green one; indeed, there was not a minute's difference between the entire three, showing that some of the runners must have kept very close to each other during the first half of the race.
But now would come the supreme test. Everybody seemed to draw a long breath, as they kept their eyes on that point of the distant road where the first runner would make his appearance, turn aside, and head across the field for the final tapeline.
"Isn't it just too exciting for anything, Flo?" asked Mame Wells, putting her arm around her chum, whom she found actually quivering with nervous hope and fear.
"Don't speak to me, Mame; I just can't bear to listen," replied the other. "I'm waiting to see who comes in sight first, and hoping I won't be disappointed. Be still, please, and let me alone."
Indeed, by degrees, all noise seemed to be dying out. A strange silence fell upon the vast throng. Thousands of eyes were fastened upon that clump of trees, back of which they had seen the last runner vanish some time before. Here the leader would presently show up; and they had not the slightest way of knowing whether it would be Boggs, Fenton, or Collins from Paulding.
Much could have happened since the three leaders turned the stake. Another runner might have advanced from behind, and taken the head of the procession. Some of those in the big road race were really unknown quantities; and among these was Gabe Larkins, for no one had everreally seen him run, the Riverport lad who lagged behind in the start.
Seconds seemed minutes, and these latter hours, as they waited for what was to come. It was hard to believe that somewhere behind that screen a crowd of boys were speeding along at their level best, seeking to win honors for the school of their choice.
Several false alarms were given, as is usually the case, when some nervous persons think they can see a moving object.
But finally a tremendous shout arose, that gained volume with each passing second. Everybody joined in that welcoming roar, regardless of who the leader might turn out to be.
"Here they come!"
A lone runner had suddenly burst out from behind the trees, and was heading for the field, passing swiftly over the ground, and with an easy, though powerful, foot movement, that quite won the hearts of all those present who had in days past been more or less interested in college athletics.
"It's Boggs!" shrieked one.
"Yes, I can see his number plain, and it's One, all right. Oh! you dandy, how you do cover the ground, though! Nobody ever saw such running; and he's got the rest beat a mile. Why, look, not a single one in sight yet, and Boggs,he's nearly a third of the way here from the turn in the course."
Almost sick at heart, and with trembling hands pretty Flo Temple managed to raise the field glasses she had with her. She really hated to level them just to see the face of the winning Boggs.
Instantly she uttered a loud shriek.
"Oh! you're all wrong!" she cried. "It isn't Boggs at all! Instead of Number One, that is Number Seven!"
"It's Fred Fenton!" whooped the fellow with the megaphone, so that everybody was able to hear.
"Fenton wins! Hurrah for Fred!"
Brad Morton, the track captain, caught hold of Bristles, and the two of them danced around, hugging each other as though they had really taken leave of their senses.
"Fenton! Oh! where is Boggs? Fenton! Riverport wins the championship!"
So the shouts were going around, and the frantic lads leaped and waltzed about.
Meanwhile the lone runner was swiftly approaching. They could all see now that it was Seven upon his chest, which at first had been mistaken for the One. Fred was apparently in no great distress. He seemed able to continue for another round, had such a thing been necessary.
Only once he turned to glance over his shoulder. This was when, arriving close enough to the outskirts of the crowd to hear some of the loud talk, he caught a cry that the nearest of his competitors had been sighted. And Fred could well afford to smile when he saw that Boggs was not in it at all, for the second runner was Number Eleven, which stood for Gabe Larkins. He was coming furiously, and had he been better coached at the start he might have even given the winner a run for the goal.
The crowd thronged over the field as soon as Fred breasted the tape, and was declared the winner of the long distance event.
And with the words of the director still fresh in their minds the victors made sure to rally around the cheer captain, and send out a roar again and again for the plucky fight made by Mechanicsburg and Paulding. Such things go far toward softening the pangs of bitter defeat, and draw late rivals closer together in the bonds of good fellowship.
But although everybody was showering Fred Fenton with praises for his wonderful home-coming, and thanking him times over because he had made it possible for Riverport to win the victory over both her competitors; he counted none of these things as worth one half as much as that walk home, after he had dressed, in thecompany with Flo Temple; and to see the proud way in which she took possession of him, as though, in wearing the little bud she had given him, he had really been running that fine race forher, rather than the school to which they both belonged.