"Of course Dave just beat his own high water mark," he called out; "and neither of the others is in the same cla.s.s, 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 Paulding had 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 s.e.x.

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 compet.i.tions, 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 the contest 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 of _their_ tendons, 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.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE LONE RUNNER

"They're off!" 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 att.i.tude 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 that he 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 pa.s.sed 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 cl.u.s.ter 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."