Fred Fenton on the Track Part 21

Wagner was coming like a bird, and his flying feet seemed hardly to touch the ground. The Paulding contestant appeared to be so far outcla.s.sed 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 pa.s.s him. Colon had just one more "kink" to let loose, and as he did so he bounded ahead, pa.s.sing 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 a.s.sistants 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 this thing 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 compet.i.tion 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 amid uproarious shouts the contestants were 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 just _got_ to 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. n.o.body 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 compet.i.tion. 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 his compet.i.tors. Well had he gauged the distance; and when just about one hundred yards from the finish he was seen to pa.s.s 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 hoa.r.s.e 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!"

CHAPTER XXIII

A CLOSE COUNT

"You're doing 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 that so 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 both sides, 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 two points 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 st.u.r.dily-set young chap, who stood watching the throwing of the weight; and whose presence in running trunks and sleeveless s.h.i.+rt 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 may work 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.