The boys of Columbia High in track athletics
Date: 2025-01-22T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: High school students -- Juvenile fiction; Teenage boys -- Juvenile fiction; Track and field -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: The boys of Columbia High in track athletics
or, A long run that won

Author: Graham B. Forbes

Release date: January 22, 2025 [eBook #75171]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1913

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS ***

“LANKY WALLACE LEADS!”
Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics. Frontispiece (Page 119.)

The
Boys of Columbia High in
Track Athletics

OR

A Long Run That Won

BY
GRAHAM B. FORBES
AUTHOR OF “THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH,” “THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA
HIGH ON THE DIAMOND,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

The Boys of Columbia High Series

By GRAHAM B. FORBES

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH
Or The All Around Rivals of the School

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND
Or Winning Out by Pluck

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE RIVER
Or The Boat Race Plot That Failed

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE GRIDIRON
Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE
Or Out for the Hockey Championship

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS
Or A Long Run That Won

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1913, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics

CONTENTS

CHAPTER | PAGE
I | Distance Runners | 1
II | Held by the Enemy | 11
III | The Gypsy Caravan | 22
IV | A Mystery of the Wagon | 33
V | On the Campus Green | 44
VI | Making Plans | 53
VII | The Benefits of Discipline | 62
VIII | Lanky’s Pride Conquers | 71
IX | Among the Nomads of the Road | 80
X | The Bunch from Bellport | 89
XI | Almost a Riot | 98
XII | A Popular Boy | 106
XIII | On the Harrapin | 115
XIV | Lanky Finds His Chance | 124
XV | An Accident Betrays Rufus | 133
XVI | Lanky Becomes a “Barker” | 144
XVII | The Gypsy Queen’s Move | 153
XVIII | Finding Out | 162
XIX | The Great Day | 171
XX | Clifford’s New Hope | 180
XXI | What Happened to Bones | 189
XXII | Columbia’s Last Chance | 198
XXIII | The End of the Long Run | 207
XXIV | When the Message Came | 215
XXV | The Stolen Child | 224

THE
BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH
IN TRACK ATHLETICS

CHAPTER I
DISTANCE RUNNERS

“Our last year at good old Columbia High, fellows!”

“I just hate to think of it, Lanky!”

“We’ve had some great times during these four years, for a fact; and college can never take the place of this school. And what fierce battles we’ve had on the diamond and gridiron with our rivals of Clifford and Bellport! I’ll be mighty sorry to leave the old school behind.”

“Perhaps you miss your guess about me, boys. I may stick to Columbia for another year.”

“Shucks! expect us to believe that kind of talk, Frank Allen; when everybody knows you’re bound to graduate with the highest honors ever given at Columbia High?”

“Listen, then; and while we hold up here to get a breathing spell on our practice cross country run. I’ll tell you how it is.”

“Wish you would, Frank,” said the tall, thin lad, who was known as Lanky Wallace; though it was said that at home they called him Clarence. “Here’s our chum, Bones Shadduck, staring at you as if he reckoned he was up against the great Chinese puzzle. Open up and tell us!”

The three boys were in running costume, and had been swinging steadily along country roads, and across fields and farms, within five miles of the town of Columbia, for an hour or more. They were, with others, engaged in a cross country run; but as it was only intended to be a “bracer” for great events in the near future, these three contestants, all of whom had splendid records in past school races, had for company’s sake kept close together.

Columbia lay upon the bank of the Harrapin river, upon which stream the boys found great enjoyment, winter and summer. Not many miles below was Bellport, more of a manufacturing town; while Clifford lay up the river, and on the other bank.

As both of these enterprising towns had high schools, it was only natural that the pupils should feel a certain amount of rivalry in their various sports. And as a rule these were entered upon with that fine spirit of fairness that adds zest to any game where the competition is keen, and victory cheered to the echo.

In the first volume of this series, “The Boys of Columbia High; Or, The All Around Rivals of the School,” the reader is given an account of the school life of many of the characters; together with some of the indoor sports suitable to the season.

In the spring it was natural that baseball should be the leading topic in their minds; and some of the thrilling battles which they had with the neighboring teams of Clifford and Bellport will be found in the book, “The Boys of Columbia High on the Diamond; Or, Winning Out by Pluck.”

With the coming of summer and hot weather, baseball was almost forgotten; but a new source of amusement, as well as competition, arose, when an eight-oared shell came for the boys of Columbia High. Of course, not to be outdone, the rival schools must also embark in the same line. So a tournament was arranged on the Harrapin by some of the enterprising citizens of the three towns, who believed in giving their boys all the healthy outdoor sport they could. Many of the remarkable happenings that accompanied that summer carnival on the water you will find in the third volume, called “The Boys of Columbia High on the River; Or, The Boat Race Plot that Failed.”

Another school term found the rivals of the Harrapin just as eager to try conclusions with each other as ever. And as the tang of frost was in the air, naturally they could think of nothing but football. And so again they met and fought it out to a finish for the prize. An account of the fiercely contested games, where brawn and sinew were often outwitted by a little gray matter in the brain of a clever dodger, is given in “The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron; Or, The Struggle for the Silver Cup.”

Then came winter, with a sheet of ice covering the Northern river, and scores of boys were fairly wild to spend every spare hour upon it. They had glorious times that year along the Harrapin, as you will admit after finishing the fifth volume of the series, just preceding this story, and which bears the name of “The Boys of Columbia High on the Ice; Or, Out for the Hockey Championship.”

And now, with spring at hand, the talk was all of the great athletic event of the year, which had been arranged as a fitting wind-up of the finest class Columbia had ever turned out at a graduation time.

It was to be an open competition, and the pupils of Clifford and Bellport had received a special invitation to enter for the various field and track events on the long program.

Every fine day, when school was not in session, boys in running costume could be met, jogging steadily along the country roads. In the fields where the schools played all their outdoor games, groups of students were to be seen engaged in practicing putting the shot, high jumping, wrestling, sprinting short distances, each and every one filled with the spirit of the hour.

Indeed, Columbia was bubbling over with excitement, since the great day was now close at hand when all these tests to prove superiority were to be brought about before a record-breaking throng.

Columbia, in the past, had been very fortunate in downing her river rivals; but the boys of Clifford and Bellport were possessed of the true grit animating all lovers of clean sport, and they always came up smiling for a new test. Forgetting the bitterness of previous defeats, they were ever ready to affirm their belief in their ability to wrest the prize from the athletes of Columbia.

And as there had come many rumors of astonishing progress being made by these rival schools, many in Columbia went about with sober faces; and even hinted that they feared it was going to be a bad year for the famous school.

Frank Allen always bore a leading part in all these athletic doings; as did his particular chum, Lanky. And they were out on this Saturday, with another well-known long-distance runner, Bones Shadduck, to get their muscles in good trim for the grind of the Marathon that was to be the crowning event of the great meet so soon to come about.

They were the hope of Columbia High. No other boys ventured to compete with these long-distance runners when they took a notion to do their best. On this occasion they were not thinking of trying to break records, but meant to cover the ground, so as to become familiar with all its features.

The course had been plainly mapped out, and in several places the runners were allowed to exercise their discretion about choosing between several methods of arriving at one of the many stations where they were to be registered. That is, if a lad thought he could make better time by crossing the country between two roads, he was given that privilege; though warned that he might get bogged, held up by a marshy stretch of ground, or even lost in the big woods, if not fully familiar with the district.

Consequently it was not likely that anyone would take advantage of this choice, but all of them were apt to stick to the main roads, where the going was good.

Seeing that his two fellow runners were growing quite curious about the explanation of his assertion, Frank laughed good-naturedly, and remarked:

“Well, just wait till I wash the dust down my throat with a good drink at this spring here, and then I’ll tell you what I meant by saying I might stick to Columbia High another year.”

“Well, I want to say right now,” remarked Bones Shadduck, as he sucked at a long scratch on his hand, which he had received from a hanging vine in the brush they had just broken through, “that this thing of cutting across country to save a little time doesn’t strike me favorably. In the race I wager I keep close to the roads, and let others take chances of getting mired, or lost, if they want to.”

Three minutes later, having refreshed themselves at the cool gurgling spring, the trio of high-school boys stood for a minute or two before starting off again on their jogging run in the direction of the next road.

“Now, Frank, keep your promise,” warned Bones.

“Yes, I’ll be badgered if I can get head or tail of what he means,” Lanky Wallace declared, shaking his head in a way he had when in doubt.

“My folks seem to have an idea that they’d rather I was a year older before I went to college,” Frank began.

“Why, that’s funny, but I’ve been hearing a lot along the same line myself at home,” broke in Lanky.

“Ditto here,” affirmed Bones Shadduck.

“And so they had me talk with Professor Tyson Parke about it,” Frank continued; “and he said that he could arrange a post-graduate course that would take up the better part of the year, and put me in fine fettle for going into the freshman class at college.”

“Great scheme!” exclaimed Bones, “and just you see if I don’t put it up to my people at home.”

“Count on me to do the same,” remarked Lanky, enthusiastically. “Why, it would sort of break the school ties piecemeal, you see; and, besides, when you take a post-graduate course, you only go for an hour or so a day. That gives a fellow loads of time to take exercise outdoors. And I need a heap of that, believe me.”

“What do you say about starting on again?” asked Frank.

“How far do you think it is to that road?” Bones queried, sucking again at his bleeding hand, so that he might extract the last atom of poison that had come from the scratch of the creeper.

“Oh! about a mile, I reckon,” Frank made answer, as they began to run.

“Only hope it’s better going than the last one, then; that was fierce,” Bones went on to say, as he fell into his regular jogging pace, which the boys declared he could keep up for an unlimited number of hours; very much after the style of the Indian runners from Carlisle School, who got it from their ancestors, those dusky messengers who would journey hundreds of miles through dense forests, over mountains and deserts, with little or no rest.

“Looks like we might have a snap here for a change,” remarked Lanky, as they arrived on the border of what seemed to be a large pasture, which told that they were now on some farm where stock were kept.

So they mounted the rail fence. Frank remembered noticing at the time that this was built especially strong, and seemed to be even higher than usual; but then, as his mind was upon other subjects, he paid little attention to the fact.

They had about half crossed the field when Lanky suddenly came to a stop.

“Go on, fellows!” he called out; “I’ve got to tie my shoe again; I’ll catch up with you in a jiffy, before you get to the fence yonder.”

“Put a knot in that shoelace, Lanky,” said Bones, laughingly, over his shoulder; “that makes the fourth time you’ve dropped down to tie it. Try that game in the race and it might lose you your chance. It often hangs on a small thing; doesn’t it, Frank?”

Receiving no reply to his question Bones glanced up at the face of his chum. He found that Frank, while running steadily on, seemed to be apparently listening intently, for his head was cocked to one side.

“What did you hear, Frank; the halloo of some other runner who’s bogged over in that swamp?” demanded Bones.

“No; I thought I heard a snort, and it made me think of cattle,” replied Frank.

“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me a whit,” declared the other, immediately; “for I’ve seen signs of ’em all along, and I reckon this field is used for—oh! now I heard it, too, Frank! A snort, you said; well, I guess it was more than that. I’d call it a bellow, and an ugly one at that. There’s something moving over back of Lanky. I guess he sees it, for he’s on his feet now, looking. Wow, there comes a cow, streaking it out from those bushes, and heading straight for Lanky!”

“A cow!” ejaculated Frank; “that’s a bull, Bones, and the worst-looking one I ever remember seeing! We must be at the Hobson farm, and that’s the fierce old bull Jack was telling me about. He’ll get Lanky if our chum doesn’t do some tall sprinting right soon. Run, Lanky, run for all you’re worth! Make for that tree near the fence, and if he gets too close, climb up.”

Neither Frank nor Bones dared stand still, for the bull was heading in their direction, even while chasing the tall boy from Columbia High. And just then there were some “lively doings” in that pasture.

CHAPTER II
HELD BY THE ENEMY

Talking was out of the question just then. Every fellow was making his legs go about as rapidly as he knew how; with the bull charging down after them at full speed, his long tail flying in the air, while he at the same time emitted sundry half-muffled bellows that added wings to the flight of the cross country runners.

Speaking about the experience later on Bones Shadduck vowed that he broke all known records in covering the distance that separated himself and Frank from the friendly rail fence.

They sprang for the top of this as though they felt the hot breath of the angry bull. Then, feeling safe for the first time, and with their hearts beating like trip-hammers, the two boys turned to see what had become of their chum.

Lanky had been very much nearer the charging animal than either of his comrades, and he could not choose his course. With him the “longest way around” was not the “quickest way to the fire.”

Perhaps he had heard what Frank called out about the tree that happened to stand about thirty feet from the fence. At any rate, when he ran, he was heading directly for that point.

The bull charged at Lanky. It may have been simply because the tall runner happened to be the nearest moving object. Then again, Lanky had on a sleeveless running shirt upon which, back and front, was a big number seven in glowing red; for he had been known by that sign in the last match in which he took part. And, somehow or other, all bulls, and even some cows, seem to have a deep-seated hatred for that color.

Lanky ran as perhaps he never did before when on the home stretch, and with a rival pressing him hard at his elbow. He had a good reason for making record time. The prize was safety and a whole body. If he fell down those cruel-looking black horns of the bull, even though they had gilt balls at their ends, would be hooked under him to give him a toss in the air; after which the infuriated animal would gore and trample him.

LANKY RAN AS PERHAPS HE NEVER DID BEFORE.
Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics. Page 12.

But Lanky knew he could not reach that fence in time to mount. The bull was able to cover ground even faster than the prize sprinter of the school. He might jump to one side at the critical moment—a practiced bull-fighter would doubtless have done this with ease; but then Lanky was a greenhorn when it came to such things. In fact, he could not remember ever having been chased by such an animal before.

The tree loomed before him. A few more desperate jumps and he would be able to dodge around it and escape the first mad rush of his enemy.

Frank was holding his breath. He could not remember suffering more mental agony than when sitting upon that fence watching his chum strive with every muscle in his bony frame to reach the tree ahead of the charging beast. And all because he and Bones were so utterly helpless to assist Lanky.

“Hurrah! he done it!” yelped Bones, with an utter disregard for grammar that might have shocked his teacher at school; but the boy was so excited that he hardly knew what he was saying.

Lanky, with a grand rally at the end, had actually managed to slide behind the big trunk of the tree. The bull went galloping past, unable to immediately bring his forward progress to a stop.

They saw Lanky roll over once or twice, and again Frank gave a gasp, fearing that the other might have received some injury in that fall calculated to prevent him from doing what he must to escape the next charge of the bull.

“There, he’s up again, and making for the tree!” snapped Bones, who could not repress his feelings for an instant.

“Climb up, if you can, Lanky!” shouted Frank; but enough time was not given for this performance, since again the bull was on the move.

Around and around the tree they went, the agile boy eluding each wild attempt on the part of his bovine enemy to get him. Again and again those horns would come against the trunk of the tree with a wicked crash; it seemed as if the animal was growing more and more furious as the seconds sped by without success attending his efforts.

All at once Bones gave a whoop.

“There he goes, Frank! Bully boy, Lanky; you fooled him that time, all right!”

The one who was in peril had made a quick upward leap, seized hold of a lower limb, which doubtless he had been looking at closely with a view to using it; and bringing into play some of his marvelous agility as a climber, he threw his lithe figure up until he could sit astride of the new perch.

But his enemy had by now become aware of what he was doing. The bull had been bellowing in an ugly way, and tossing the earth with his horns; and it was while this performance was going on that Lanky had taken advantage of the attention of the animal being turned away from him to make his upward leap.

Although the bull charged and even tried to reach his dangling legs, Lanky was able to draw them up in such a way that he felt safe.

Then Frank, for the first time, laughed. Since Lanky had managed to get beyond the reach of the black beast, and seemed uninjured after his close call, the humorous side of the adventure struck the other boys.

“Now will you be good, Lanky?” jeered Bones. “He’s got you nailed there in that tree good and fast. What word shall we take to your folks at home? Want to send ’em any message? Expect to get your meals by aeroplane or kite? He’s going to camp right there till you oblige him by coming down, believe me, Lanky.”

“Cut that chaff out, Bones, and be thinking up some scheme to coax the old sinner away!” called back the beleaguered one, who had climbed higher in the tree and could see his chums plainly as they sat upon the fence nearby.

“Huh! I suppose now you’d like me to step over there and call him away; wouldn’t you, Lanky?” demanded Bones. “But all the same I’m not goin’ to do it. There’s only one way you can get out of that tree.”

“Then tell me,” cried Lanky, eagerly.

“Grow some wings and fly!” answered Bones, with a loud laugh.

Frank saw that the situation, while not desperate, had its unpleasant features. He knew something about the persistency of bulls in general. He had heard of one that kept a farmer in a tree all night, and a good part of the next day, nibbling the grass whenever he got hungry, and always guarding the tree so that there was no chance whatever for escape. And the man might have died from weakness had not a neighbor happened to hear his shouts and shot the bull.

Lanky must be saved in some way or other, but just how to go about it was the question. At first Frank thought he might coax the bull by dropping over the fence at some distant part of the field. He tried it, but with no success whatever. The cunning bull declined to nibble at the bait. It was just as if he had decided that a boy in the tree was worth two in the field keeping close to the fence so that it could be scaled.

“It’s no go, Frank!” called out Bones, after the other had ventured as near to the animal as he deemed safe, without drawing his attention a particle. “You’ll have to try another dodge; or else Lanky’s going to stay in that tree till Christmas rolls around, or the Glorious Fourth.”

“For goodness sake, think up some way of getting him off, Frank!” called out the impatient prisoner of the lone tree.

“I’ve got a scheme!” cried Bones.

“Yes, you have!” Lanky answered in some derision; for he failed to have any great amount of faith in anything Bones Shadduck originated.

“Well, this one’s a corker, I tell you,” the boy on the fence went on, eagerly.

“All right, let’s hear it, and speak low so the bull won’t get on,” Lanky suggested, with mock respect.

“Besides it’ll give Frank and me a heap of fun watching you, Lanky.”

“Oh! it will, hey? Lots of fun, you say? I’ve no doubt you’re enjoying this game right well, Bones; but you’d laugh out of the other side of your mouth if it was you sitting up here, and me on the fence. But go on, tell us about it now.”

“Why, you want to watch your chance,” began Bones, soberly.

“Oh! do I? Chance for what?” demanded Lanky, derisively, for he seemed to feel that the other was only having sport with him.

“To catch the bull off his guard, when you might drop plump on his back. But if you do, Lanky,” Bones went on hurriedly, and with much apparent concern, “be sure you get a good hold, because he’s apt to jump and kick like a bucking bronco, and if he knocks you off it’s good-bye for yours. You’ll be a back number.”

Even Lanky was seen to grin at this wild proposition.

“Well, you are the punk thing, Bones, when it comes to helping a chum out of a hole,” he called out. “Frank, I know I can depend on you to hatch up some smart little trick to shake off this old buffalo that’s got me up a tree.”

“I’ve tried my best to coax him away, Lanky,” said Frank, starting to walk off; “but he won’t budge an inch, and it’s no use.”

“Hold on, Frank; sure now, you wouldn’t be for leaving me here in this fix, would you, and me that’s stood by you through thick and thin many a time? If I had to perch up here long my bones’d be too sore for me to enter any race for a month of Sundays. Where are you going, Frank?”

“To hunt up the farmhouse, and see if I can’t get Mr. Hobson to come to the rescue. I’ll be back before a great while,” was what Frank called out.

“Bless you for a true chum, Frank, I knew you wouldn’t leave me in the lurch; and here’s hoping that you find the farmer at home all right, or his man. Oh! laugh all you want to, Bones, but it isn’t so funny when you’re the frog that gets hit by the stones. Just you try it once and see.”

Time passed slowly to the beleaguered runner. He even complained of feeling a little cold, and talked to Bones about supper as though he began to fear that, after all, he would have to camp there in that tree the whole night.

“If you have to stay there, and it comes to the worst,” Bones had assured him; “mebbe now I might be able to throw a package of grub to you from the top of the fence here. I’m the boss thrower, you know, Lanky. Many a time I’ve got a runner at the home plate by lifting a fly I caught away out when I was playing left field for Ben Allison.”

“There comes Frank now,” the prisoner of the tree exclaimed, he having a greater range of vision than the boy who sat astride of the rail fence.

“Got the farmer trailing along, I hope?” ventured Bones.

“Well, if he has, I don’t see him yet,” replied the other dejectedly. “Reckon I’m just a-goin’ to sit here all night.”

“I can get a squint at Frank now, Lanky; and, say, what’s he got in his hand?”

“Looks like a clothesline to me, Bones,” replied the other, without much enthusiasm in his voice. “I thought Frank was smarter than that. If he thinks he’s going to lasso this big bull with that rope and hold him even one minute he’s sure got another guess coming to him.”

“Now, you leave all that to Frank,” advised the other. “You’ve been goin’ with him long enough to know that he’s smart about getting up schemes; yes, and carryin’ ’em out, too. Wait and see what he says, Lanky, before you decide about eatin’ your supper on a limb.”

Frank came hurrying along and just as Lanky had said, he was carrying what seemed to be a coiled clothesline, for the rope was certainly made of cotton and seemed rather thin at that.

“Where’s Farmer Hobson, Frank?” asked the boy on the limb.

“Gone with a load of stuff to Columbia, and won’t be home till late to-night,” came the reply, as Frank arrived opposite the spot where the determined bull kept watch and ward over his prize.

“And hasn’t he got a man?” wailed Lanky, as though he began to feel that everything was conspiring against him.

Frank went on calmly undoing the rope foot by foot, and testing it.

“Yes; but he’s sick on his back with lumbago, and couldn’t hobble out here; so I told him not to try, and that I’d find some way to get you out, all right.”

“I’m surprised at you, Frank,” ventured Lanky, wishing for information.

“In what way?” asked the other, coolly, once more starting to loop up the rope, as though getting ready to throw it.

“Why, even if you manage to get that rope over his horns it won’t hold a minute. Look at his broad chest and heavy shoulders, would you? Why, that bull could snap such a little rope five times over.”

“I reckon he could, Lanky,” Frank went on, laughing; “but you see, I don’t expect to use it on him as a lasso. Fact is, I mean it for you!”

“What’s that; goin’ to get it over my neck, and yank me out of this tree! I sure like that kind of talk. It shows a kind heart; but my neck is stretched as long as it can go; so you’ll have to think up some other dodge, Frank.”

“Listen,” said Frank, seriously. “If I throw this loop to you, or get Bones here to try it, do you think you could grab hold of it?”

“Try me!” said Lanky, laconically.

“Well, when you get the end, go as far as you can in your tree, and tie the doubled rope there. Afterwards I’m going to fasten the other end to this tree we’ve got on our side of the fence. Understand now what I mean, Lanky? You’ve got to do the tight-rope act; and come out of there by the aerial route, with Mr. Bull prancing under your heels, but unable to reach you. How do you like the scheme?”

CHAPTER III
THE GYPSY CARAVAN

“It’s a screamer!” exclaimed Lanky, immediately.

“What I call a peach!” ejaculated Bones Shadduck. “Say, what was I tellin’ you, Lanky; didn’t I say our Frank would get up a plan that was goin’ to beat anything you ever heard tell of? Oh! hurry up, and let’s get things started.”

“Well, suppose then you take this doubled rope, which I’ve coiled up, and see if you can land the end in the branches of Lanky’s tree.”

“And as near me as you can, Bones, remember,” advised the one most interested; “because he’s just a-listenin’ as if he knew what we were talkin’ about; and, if he gets half a chance, I reckon he’ll take that same rope and wrap it all around those gold-tipped horns of his.”

So Bones, after finding how he could stand on the top of the rail fence in a fairly steady fashion, took a survey of the situation, and decided just what amount of effort it would require to send the end of the doubled rope into the tree.

He started to wind up by whirling the coils around his head, after the fashion of a cowboy about to make a cast. Then, as Lanky, becoming impatient, begged him to make haste, Bones let fly.

His first attempt proved a failure, for the rope fell short. The bull seemed so curious about all these actions that he came over to look at the rope, which Bones was now dragging back in haste.

“Keep off there, you!” he called to the animal; “just go back and mind your own business, which I take it right now is to watch Lanky yonder,” and, as though understanding what was said, sure enough, the heavy-set animal turned immediately, trotting back under the tree, and looking up longingly at the imprisoned boy, while emitting a low bellow.

“Is that the best you can do, Bones?” demanded Lanky, wishing to spur the other on; “if it is, better let Frank take a turn, because I know he can make a longer throw than that was.”

“You wait,” answered the aroused Bones; “I can do better than that. Just thought I ought to make a try throw first. This time I’ll put a little more steam in it, and you get ready to grab, Lanky.”

“Right here, Bones, put her in my mitt!” called the other, holding out his hands as though he might be a catcher behind the rubber, calling to his slabmate how to toss them in.

Frank steadied Bones from below, so that he could feel on firmer footing. And this time the rope, flying far out, and uncoiling as it went, struck in among the lower branches of the tree.

“Catch hold, Lanky, quick!” cried the thrower of the lasso.

Lanky almost tumbled out of the tree in his eagerness to reach the rope; but fortunately it had caught on a branch, and he was able to get his hands on it.

“Now climb up, and pass it along,” called Frank.

“Yes,” added Bones, “there’s a hunky-dory place up yonder to tie it to, after you’ve doubled it like Frank said. That’s it, Lanky; put the rope around there, you know.”

Lanky understood and fastened the knotted end of the line to the upper branch of the tree—an especially strong one it was, too.

Afterwards Frank climbed the second tree beyond the rail fence; and as Lanky had tied his end of the doubled clothesline to an upper limb, Frank did the same.

There now stretched a taut doubled line, with a downward slant, from the tree under which the bull waited patiently for his prey to drop.

“Looks good to me!” announced Bones, as he changed his position on the fence so as to get a better view of the coming “stunt” of the thin chum.

“Course it does,” grumbled Lanky, as he prepared to trust himself to the slender line. “Think I’m a featherweight, do you, just because I’m thin; but bones weigh a heap, just you remember. What if she breaks, Frank?”

“It will hold you, all right, Lanky,” replied the other, confidently; “I tested the single line with my weight and it stood firm. Now that we’ve made it double, honestly, I believe it would hold even Buster Billings.”

As the boy mentioned was considered the fattest scholar, without exception, in any one of the three high schools, such positive information should have gone far toward giving Lanky confidence.

“All right, here I come, then. Phew! I hope the blooming old thing doesn’t give enough to let me down so he can poke his horns into me.”

That was really the only thing that Frank feared in the least. It was with more or less concern, therefore, that he saw Lanky get in readiness to start sliding along the rope. As this had a pretty good slant from the lone tree’s upper branches, he need not do any climbing, but just work his way along, and remember to hold on with a firm grip, no matter what happened.

“Wow! there he comes!” exclaimed Bones Shadduck, as the thin boy let go his hold above, and launched himself upon his aerial passage.

It was a strange sight indeed, with Lanky moving slowly but steadily down that doubled rope, and the prancing bull keeping directly underneath him, giving vent to all sorts of queer noises as he even reared up on his short hind legs and tried to reach Lanky’s long, dangling figure with his horns.

“Thank goodness, the rope holds!” cried Bones, who had been rather doubtful of its strength all along.

“And it doesn’t seem to sag so very much,” added Frank, mentally figuring how close bull and boy might come before Lanky found shelter across the line of fence. “It’s going to be a close shave, I’m afraid, though, Lanky; can’t you pull up your legs some; he might get you when you’re near the fence?”

“Sure he can,” remarked Bones. “You know what sort of gymnast Lanky is. Watch him put his feet in his pockets now.”

Of course, the dangling boy did not go quite that far, because in the first place he had no such thing as a pocket in his running togs, and even if he had, he felt no inclination to carry out the suggestion of humorous Bones. But he did throw one leg up over the line, and this took his form just so much further away from the ugly horns below.

In this fashion then Lanky passed over the fence, and was safe. The baffled bull seemed to know that his intended prey had escaped him. Perhaps he felt that the boy on the fence must be laughing at him. At any rate he made a sudden, wicked lunge in the direction of Bones, and that worthy, being taken by surprise, might have suffered if he had not allowed himself to simply fall in a heap on the ground outside of the rails.

Bang! came the rushing bull against the fence, which quivered before the onset, and might even have given way, only that it had been stoutly built to withstand such rushes.

“Bah! don’t you wish you could?” jeered Bones, struggling to his feet, his fright a thing of the past; and he made a face at the bull, that was just two feet away, although separated by that barrier of stout rails.

“How are you, Lanky; all right?” asked Frank, as the long figure of the rescued chum appeared in sight, dropping down out of the second tree.

“Well, I seem to be all here,” replied the other, with a broad smile; “but when that old beast was trying to reach me, I began to think he’d have my shins scraped, more or less. That was a bully good thought of yours, Frank. Queerest ride I ever took in all my life. Talk to me about toboggan slides—why, they’re not in it with a rope run, and a jumpin’ bull underneath.”

“Who’ll get the rope, Frank?” asked Bones.

“You can, if you feel like it,” replied the other, with a smile.

“Excuse me, but it’d have to be something more’n an old clothesline that would tempt me to go into that field again,” Bones declared.

“Well,” Frank went on, “fortunately there’s no need of anyone going right now, because I told the farmer’s wife what I meant to do to get Lanky out of there, and she said to leave the rope where it was. Her husband would get it later on, after the bull was in the barn for the night.”

“Let me have five minutes’ rest after that little slide, Frank,” entreated Lanky, “and then I’ll be ready to join you both in another run across to the road. It must have been the strain that told on me. Right now my heart is beating like fun.”

“Sure thing,” assented Bones; “mine is, too, because I thought that black beast was going to get me when he ducked my way with a whoop. Say, ain’t he just the limit now, fellows? Old Hobson’ll get in trouble with that critter some fine day. He ought not to keep such a wicked animal around.”

“Oh! well,” Frank remarked, “you know we really had no business going through his pasture. Even if you got hurt, your father couldn’t have recovered damages if Hobson chose to take it to the courts. When you trespass, you lose your rights up to a certain extent. How about it now, Lanky, feel like you could stand a grilling run again?”

“I’m as right as ever, Frank; and now that the whole thing’s over I’m ready to laugh at it as hard as the next one. It sure was the queerest thing that ever happened to me. A dog had me treed once—a bulldog that guarded an apple tree belonging to our next-door neighbor. Our apples were good, you know, but his seemed to be just the right kind I was lookin’ for.”

“What happened?” asked Bones.

“Why, the neighbor came along and called the dog off,” Lanky replied, with one of his customary shrugs; “me to the woodshed as soon as my dad heard about it, and—well, what’s the use saying anything more? I never like to think of that same interview, give you my word, fellows.”

They had by now started off again. Lanky seemed to show no signs of having suffered because of the strain he had just gone through. These thin, wiry boys are able to stand a tremendous lot of knocking about, without feeling any bad effects. Had it been Buster Billings, now, who was a prisoner in that tree, they could never have effected his release in the way Lanky was saved. His weight would have caused any line to sag, so that the poor fellow would have been an easy mark for the butting horns of the bull.

After leaving the farm of Mr. Hobson behind the runners found that they would have to pass over some more dubious ground. Frank realized that unless some better course was found than this it would be the height of folly for a runner to think he could save time by leaving the firm road, and taking to the cross country. And being a good, square sportsman he determined to do all he could to warn the Clifford and Bellport fellows against any such attempt. Still, they had the same privilege of examining the ground that the Columbia High boys did, and if it struck one of them that he cared to take chances that was really his own affair.

“There’s the road, fellows!” said Frank, after they had ploughed through a lot of soft ground, and were thoroughly disgusted with it all.

“Oh! happy day!” sang Lanky. “When you hear of me trying to take a short-cut on that same Marathon race, just engage a room for me at the insane asylum; won’t you?”

“But looky there, what under the sun have we got now, boys?” called out Bones, who happened just then to be a little in the lead of the runners.

“Wagons, hey?” exclaimed Lanky; “and all the colors of the rainbow at that. Jupiter whiz! did you ever see such a gay crowd? Say, Frank, these must be the gypsies that hang around Budd’s Corners every other summer; don’t you think so?”

“Just what they are,” came the reply; “but there’s twice as many this year as ever before.”

“And would you see the fine wagons they’ve got along?” remarked Bones, as they stood upon the lower fence rail to watch the caravan pass. “Most of ’em are fitted up, they tell me, like the cabin of a boat, with sleeping bunks and a cooking range. I’d just like to say that one of those wagons must be worth a heap of money. How do they make it all, Frank, do you think?” and he lowered his voice, for the head of the procession was now very close by, and the boy did not wholly like the looks of the swarthy men who drove those wagons along toward the first of the line.

“They do a lot of horse trading,” Frank replied; “and are mighty smart at it, too. The ordinary farmer has little chance against a gypsy in a trade; though he may think he’s some pumpkins, as they say. Those horses are a pretty good lot, let me tell you, fellows,” as the wagons began to pass by.

There must have been at least ten of them, all told, mostly new ones, with all the comforts known to modern wagon travelers. The boys watched the procession pass with considerable interest, and from the way the gypsies stared at them they excited almost as much curiosity, on account of their running clothes, as the gypsies did in them. And it was while they stood in this way that Lanky suddenly began to show a strange excitement, turning toward his chums with a puzzled look on his face.

“Say, perhaps you fellows didn’t see that little girl trying to attract our attention in one of those vans?” he remarked, with more or less eagerness. “The old gypsy woman pulled her down in a big hurry, but, Frank—Bones, I sure believe that she was holding out her baby hands to us, like she wanted to ask us to help her!”

CHAPTER IV
A MYSTERY OF THE WAGON

The other two boys looked at Lanky curiously, as if to see whether he could be in earnest, or only joking. Lanky was inclined, at times, to show an odd streak of humor, as Frank had long since found out.

But the long-legged chap certainly looked serious enough just then. His eyes followed the line of gypsy vans eagerly. If there was anything that appealed to Lanky Wallace it was a bit of mystery, and he had been known to bother his head for days and weeks over some trifling affair that the ordinary schoolboy would dismiss from his mind with a laugh.

“I tell you she did just what I said, fellows,” he persisted in saying; “held out her hands to me; and if ever there was a look of fear on a little girl’s face, I saw it on hers!”

“Oh, rats!” exploded practical Bones; “you’ve been reading some silly stuff about gypsies taking the children of rich people and holding ’em for a ransom. That might have happened years ago, or perhaps in Old England; but if you think it could to-day, and in America, why, you’re away off your base, Lanky. Reckon you ought to have been born about the year sixteen hundred and seven, instead of in this age.”

Frank, while doubting whether there could be anything in what seemed to be a far-fetched idea of the tall chum, was not so much inclined to “josh” him as Bones had been.

He and Lanky had known of a case where the haunting face of a young tramp had kept both of them guessing for a long spell, and the persistence of the tall chum had in the end brought the truth to light. And through that same dogged perseverance a long-lost son and brother was restored to his family; while Lanky had made a good friend in rosy-cheeked Dora, the pretty sister of Will Baxter.

“Tell me, Lanky,” he said, now, in as serious a tone as he could command, “was the child fair-haired, or a brunette; because, you know, all gypsies are dark?”

Lanky made a wry face, but stood to his guns.

“Sure, she did have a dark little phiz, Frank, that’s right; but, then, I reckon it’s the easiest thing in the world to change the skin, and dye the hair. Why, haven’t you had your hands turn brown with the juice of fresh walnuts every fall, when we laid in our winter stock, and hulled ’em? ’Course you have, and so has Bones here. I tell you, fellows, I’ll never get that look out of my head. If I wake up in the night, bet you a cookey I’ll think of it right away.”

Frank knew the obstinacy of his chum only too well. There never was a boy who would persist more in a thing than Lanky Wallace, though when he had the truth absolutely shown to him he would give up, and admit that he was wrong. Some people who did not fancy Lanky called him pig-headed and stubborn, but those who were better able to judge understood the difference between stubbornness and firmness.

“Well,” said Frank, “if that’s the way you feel about it, Lanky, there’s only one thing to be done. To satisfy yourself, you ought to see the child again. When you find out that she is only a little brown gypsy, sure enough, you’ll sleep easy again.”

At that Lanky smiled.

“I don’t know whether you’re just kidding or not, Frank,” he said; “but I’d just made up my mind to do that same, right now—follow the caravan, and try to get another glance at that face.”

“Well, you do rush things to beat the band!” ejaculated Bones. “We came out on this run to see how the cut-off might be, and to get a point on what we could do over the course; but seems to me running has been about the last on the list with the lot of us to-day. There was that adventure with the bull; and now here’s Lanky gone daffy over the brown face of a baby girl, that just happened to look sad at him after getting a spanking from her ma! Frank, do we go with him, or head off for ourselves right here?”

“Oh, suit yourselves, fellows!” said Lanky, quickly, for he was very touchy, and ready to resent anything like a favor grudgingly bestowed. “Just leave me alone and I’ll show up later.”

Frank, however, realized that somehow his chum was worked up over the matter more than he could remember having seen him for a long time. Perhaps it was the fact that his nerves had been shaken during his recent affair with the bull. Then again, there might be a slight possibility that Lanky was right with regard to the child.

“Oh, that’s all right, Lanky!” he remarked, soothingly. “I’m going where you lead, and if Bones objects he knows what he can do. Not that I take much stock in your kidnapping idea, because such things happen only once in a long time nowadays.”

“But you admit, Frank, that it could be; don’t you?” demanded the other, not at all shaken in his belief.

“Well, yes, there might be about one chance in a hundred, Lanky,” Frank replied.

“And I’m taking the hundredth chance,” said the other, doggedly, as he started off after the gypsy caravan, which had vanished entirely from view around a bend in the road while the three runners were holding this short conversation among themselves.

They sighted it again as soon as they had turned the curve in the road. As if by mutual consent Frank and Bones had fallen back, and allowed Lanky to have the post of honor in the van.

“If she does it again, Lanky,” remarked Bones, jeeringly, “just you give us the high sign; when we’ll jump in, and clear up the whole gypsy tribe, rescue the kidnapped princess, carry her home in triumph and receive a cool million or so from her happy dad, as a reward for our heroic achievement!”

“Oh! splash!” was all Lanky sent back over his shoulder, as he ran steadily on at that telling jog-trot that seemed never to tire the runner.

They rapidly overtook the caravan, for the horses were not trying to make any speed, having come a long distance, it might be, since sun-up; and, besides, the drivers knew they were within a few miles of the place where, once in so often, they made camp for several days, or a week at a time.

Lanky paid no attention to the rear wagons, but passed alongside and kept pushing on. He had eyes only for the most gorgeous van in the whole procession; since it had been at the side window of this he had seen the face that, somehow, appealed to his sensitive heart.

The door at the rear of the high wagon was almost wholly closed, Lanky noticed as he came along, though once he really thought he saw a face, surrounded by coils of black hair, in the opening, which could only belong to a gypsy woman.

He kept his eyes fastened on the side window, for he knew that his two skeptical chums were waiting for a sign and would be apt to decide one way or another, depending on what was to be seen. And, sure enough, a face did appear there, that of a child in the bargain, and a girl, too. But she simply stared at the odd costumes of the three boy runners, and seemed to hold them in the scorn a true gypsy child feels for the house-dweller.

Lanky was grievously disappointed. It seemed that he had been mistaken after all, and, always willing to “take his medicine,” as he called it, he prepared to accept the expected chaffing of Bones in a good spirit. Had that ended the matter, doubtless Lanky would have put it out of his mind for good and all, but as it happened there was a little sequel, and it is often upon these trifles that great events depend.

The three boys had passed the gorgeous van, and were pursuing their way along toward the leading wagon, when a sound came to their ears that was rather significant under the circumstances.

It was certainly very like the cry of a frightened child, quickly suppressed, and yet coming from the identical van toward which Lanky had drawn the attention of his chums.

All of them turned their heads to look, but only to meet the surly frown of the dusky gypsy who drove the pair of fine horses attached to the wagon, which, from its appearance, might shelter the queen of the roving tribe.

Frank knew that for Lanky to make any attempt to interfere with the gypsies at such a time would be the height of folly.

“Go on; don’t stop, Lanky!” he exclaimed, ready to push the other onward if he manifested a stubborn disposition, as though inclined to investigate.

“But, didn’t you hear it?” demanded the tall fellow, irresolutely.

“Move along there!” said Bones, as if in disgust; “why, whatever’s coming over our bold Lanky Wallace, when even the squalling of a gypsy kid gets on his nerves?”

“Go on, Lanky,” said Frank, in earnest tones; “you’ll only make trouble, and get in a fight, if you try anything here. Wait a while, and perhaps you can find out all you want without having a row.”

Realizing that Frank was right, as he generally was, Lanky again started on; but after passing the head of the gypsy caravan he slackened his pace enough to let his chum come alongside.

“You heard that, too; didn’t you, Frank?” he asked, eagerly.

“Of course I did, and so did Bones, because you know he spoke of a gypsy kid crying,” returned Frank, himself more than a little puzzled by now.

“It wasn’t the one at the window, because she was older, and besides, you saw her stare at us,” Lanky continued, in his old argumentative way. “No, sir; that one who started to scream was a smaller child, and must have been the same I saw before. Didn’t I say she held out her baby hands to me? And now, when she begins to cry, that old gypsy crone shuts her off quick. Frank, honest Injun now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she just took her by the throat and choked her to keep her still!”

“Oh, come, now, Lanky, you’re letting that wild imagination of yours just run away with you!” remarked Frank; but the other noticed that there was a serious expression on the face of his chum at the same time.

“You more’n half believe it yourself, Frank Allen, and you don’t dare deny it!” he exclaimed, heatedly.

“Tell me about that, will you?” Bones could be heard saying to himself, as he ran along just behind them, and evidently “listening for all he was worth,” as Lanky remarked later on; for despite his skepticism Bones was himself beginning to feel a little touch of the fever that was working on Lanky.

“Only this far,” Frank went on to say, in response to the accusation of his chum; “there might be something in what you’ve got on your brain. But the chances are ten to one, Lanky, that in the end it’ll prove to be only a little gypsy girl who has been bad and spanked by her ma.”

“Oh, now it’s only ten to one; is it?” demanded the other, quickly; “and a little while back the odds were a hundred to one. Shows that you’re falling to my idea pretty rapid, Frank. Now, I’ve been in gypsy camps heaps of times and so have both of you. Will you promise to give me a straight answer, if I ask you a question?”

“You know I will, Lanky,” said Frank.

“If it’s nothing personal, I’ll promise, too,” came from the cautious Bones, who may have had a few secrets of his own to which he did not wish to confess.

“Did you ever hear a gypsy child cry, either one of you?” demanded Lanky, with a triumphant look on his thin face, as though he felt that this question was what he would call a “clincher.”

Frank paused a brief time as if for reflection.

“I never did!” he finally replied, with emphasis.

“How about you, Bones?” pursued Lanky.

“Oh, well, I don’t remember about it,” replied the other; “but then, what does that prove? I reckon they do yell when they get a lickin’, just the same as other kids; only we never happened to be there when the old lady’s slipper was getting in its work.”

But Frank saw the point Lanky was making, and appreciated it, too.

“I’ve been told,” the tall boy went on to say, “that gypsies bring up their children about like the old Injuns used to do. They learn when little kids never to show what they feel. Never heard of a red Injun boy weepin’; did you, Bones? Well, I guess nobody ever did; and gypsies, they’re about in the same class.”

“Well, and even if that’s right, Lanky, how do we know but what the old queen was givin’ the baby its lesson in keepin’ from cryin’? Sure, somethin’ shut the noise off right quick, I acknowledge that. But you just can’t make me believe in any silly yarn like a stolen child, and such stuff. Bah! next thing you’ll be lookin’ for a strawberry mark on my left arm, and tryin’ to make out I was changed in the cradle.”

But Lanky would not take any notice of these slurs. Frank could see that he was deeply impressed with the idea that the little dark-faced girl at the window of the big van had actually appealed to him for help in her childish way. And, knowing Lanky as he did, Frank felt positive that this would not be the last of the affair.

“He’ll go to their camp and make trouble sooner or later,” Frank was saying to himself, as the three runners neared the outskirts of Columbia; “and I suppose it’s up to me to stick to a chum through thick and thin. Perhaps he’ll be cured if only he can see the kid and talk with the mother. However, I’ve got to back Lanky up, no matter what wild scheme he may hatch in that brain of his. Because he’s a good fellow, and one of the best chums I’ve ever had.”

And so the run over the course of the Marathon race that was to be a leading feature of the athletic meet had been productive of several thrilling incidents that would not soon be forgotten by the three lads who were chiefly concerned.

CHAPTER V
ON THE CAMPUS GREEN

“Come, brace up, Lanky; ’tisn’t time for your funeral yet!”

“Why, we haven’t even had the preliminary trial races yet to see who’s going to be chosen to represent Columbia High in the big athletic meet, and here’s one of our best Marathon boys getting cold feet!”

A group of lads stood around on the campus during recess, shortly before noon, comparing notes about the chances their school would have when up against the crack athletes of Clifford and Bellport.

Buster Billings had been the first speaker, the fat boy who has often figured in these stories of Columbia High, while the second one who was trying to cheer Lanky up, boy-fashion, by giving him a “dig,” was Jack Comfort, reckoned the best all-round shot-putter the school had ever known.

In the group were several others who have been familiar figures in the past. The good-looking boy who took no part in the conversation, seeming to be very quiet, was Ralph Langworthy. Once he had been known as Ralph West; and Frank Allen had been instrumental in solving a great mystery that hung over his head, thus finding his own true mother for the new chum.

Then there were Paul Bird, a very close chum of Frank’s; Bones Shadduck, Tom Budd, a boy who could never keep still, but must be turning hand-springs, or standing on his head, half of the time; Jack Eastwick, the great doubter of the school, who should have been named Thomas, everybody declared; “Jonsey,” who once upon a time gave out in a boat race, and put Columbia in a hole; and last of all “Red” Huggins, whose faculty for getting his tongue twisted when excited often resulted in queer expressions.

Lanky Wallace had been unusually grave all morning, and the boys noticed it, too. Of course, none of them knew what was ailing the tall student, for Frank alone was in the secret. And most of the talk they were flinging at Lanky now was done for the evident purpose of “getting a rise” from him. If he could be stirred up to give them some heated back talk they might find out what ailed him.

Truth to tell, some of them were feeling a little uneasy. Columbia would evidently have need of all her reserve stock of talent this spring in order to come out ahead in the various trials of skill with her bitter rivals. And Lanky was reckoned one of the shining lights in many a contest where agility and power of endurance counted.

“Cold feet, nothing!” the tall boy flung back at Jack Comfort. “When that happens you’ll find the moon made of green cheese, boys. Fact is, I’m just a little bothered to-day about somethin’ that’s got nothin’ to do with the athletic meet.”

“Been eating some grub that’s given you indigestion, p’raps?” suggested Jonsey.

“For goodness sake, Lanky, don’t get out of trim now; we need you the worst way, if we expect to wipe up the ground with those up and down-river fellows,” implored Paul Bird.

“That’s just what,” broke in Bones Shadduck; “ever since Lanky got treed by that bull he’s been in the dumps. For once he ran up against somethin’ he couldn’t beat, and it’s made him sore.”

The boys laughed, for they had all heard the story to the last particular.

“Well, all I know,” remarked Buster Billings, pathetically; “is that Clifford is just boiling over with confidence. I was up there last night to a little spread, and you never heard such talk in your life. Why, they feel dead sure they’re going to walk all over us this time.”

“Will they?” observed Jack Eastwick, in his customary sarcastic way, which had long ago become a settled habit with him; “maybe, maybe not. We’ve got some pretty husky specimens right here in old Columbia, and when the time comes we expect to pull down a few of those plums ourselves.”

“Bully for you, Jack!” cried Buster, patting the speaker encouragingly.

“I reckon I know what ails Lanky!” ventured Jonsey, who had a little bone to pick with the other, and lost no opportunity to give him a sly poke.

“Then tell us, or we’ll ride you on a rail!” threatened Jack Comfort.

“Dare I, Lanky?” asked Jonsey, not wanting to go too far.

“Sure. Just tell everything you know, or think, Jonsey. It won’t take long,” was the answering shot that came back.

“Well, the fact of the matter is, Lanky’s best girl’s gone back on him, because I saw her out riding with that new city fellow that came to Columbia a few months ago. He’s as fine a looker as you ever saw, the girls think, and pretty, rose-cheeked Dora Baxter seems to just take to Mr. Walter Ackerman.”

Jonsey had kept one eye out for an avenue of escape in case Lanky made a dive in his direction; he also counted on the others to hold the tall boy back, so as to give him a chance to escape; for he never could do it by simply running. But contrary to his expectations, Lanky made no offensive move. On the other hand, he even laughed in a strained way.

“That’s where you’re away off, Jonsey,” Lanky declared. “It’s a matter of mighty small difference to me whether Dora Baxter chooses to keep company with Walter Ackerman or not, because we’ve had a spat, and don’t speak when we pass by. And I want to ask you all right now, please keep her name out of any conversation you may happen to have about me after this.”

When Lanky spoke in that way they knew he meant it, and there was not one in all that group of his schoolmates who would venture to offend him by declining to regard his request.

“Well,” said Buster Billings, as if ready to give the puzzle up, “if none of the things we have mentioned is what’s ailing you, Lanky, for goodness sake, whatever it is, get it out of your system as quick as you can. You’re not the same kind of fellow we’re used to seein’ around. When you show up you give us all a cold shiver. Honest, now, it makes me think of spooks, graveyards and all that stuff just to look at you, Lanky.”

“Oh! does it?” jeered the other; “if that’s the case I’ll get a move on and step over to my chum, Frank Allen, who’s just come out of the classroom yonder. But before I go, fellows, just make your minds easy about me. If I am feeling sort of down in the mouth and serious-like just now, it isn’t going to affect my athletic stunts one little bit. I’m as fit as ever I was to run the race of my life. Frank knows, and he’ll tell you that same thing.”

“Are you?” said the doubter, Jack Eastwick; “maybe, maybe not. Time alone will tell that. Saturday the preliminary trials come off, and then we’ll get a pointer on what all our boys can do.”

But Lanky did not stop to listen to the “croaker.” Jack often threw cold water on everything with which he had any connection. It was very discouraging, to be sure, and more than once his schoolmates had threatened to hold him under the pump if he didn’t quit harping in that disagreeable way. For a little while Jack would manage to reform, only to break out later on; for habits are deep seated.

Apparently Lanky was more than eager to see Frank, judging from the way he hurried over to the other, as he issued from the school, stopping to speak to the old janitor, who was known among the boys as “Soggy.”

“Hello, Lanky!” was Frank’s greeting, as he eyed the other curiously; “seems to me I haven’t run across you this whole day up to now. But then I came late, as I had an errand to do for the professor, you see.”

“Yes, and it just happened that I wanted to get in touch with you, too,” remarked the tall boy, as he thrust his arm through Frank’s and started him walking so as to leave the janitor behind.

“Soggy was telling me that some of the boys had started to playing practical jokes on him again,” Frank remarked. “He’s got a notion that it must be that Bill Klemm and his cronies, Watkins Kline and Asa Barnes.”

“They’re sure a bad lot,” commented Lanky, drily. “Ever since Lef Sellers was hustled off to military school by his dad because he made such a racket in town that the authorities threatened to send him to the reform school, Bill has tried to fill his shoes as the town bully, and bad boy generally.”

“And some say he’s even worse than Lef ever was,” added Frank; “but see here, Lanky, what’s up?”

“Now please tell me why you think anything is?” demanded the other.

“Well,” Frank went on, with a good-natured laugh, “I can see it in your face that you’ve got something to tell me. You may fool some of the fellows, but you can’t me, old chum. Open up and let’s hear what it is. Anything connected with the big meet we’re all talking so much about?”

“Nope,” replied Lanky, tersely.

“I hope you haven’t been running across the trail of that Walter Ackerman, and doing what you once threatened to do, Lanky?”

The other sneered at this.

“Don’t see any scratches or bruises on my phiz; do you, Frank?” he remarked; “and as I calculate that Walter is something of a scrapper himself, I couldn’t polish him off without showing the signs; could I? Shucks! forget him, won’t you? If Dora chooses that city chap before me, she’s at liberty to do it. I’m not going a foot out of my way to please her and make her think she’s the only one in Columbia worth looking at. There are plenty of girls.”

But however brave his words, Lanky did not deceive the keen eyes of Frank Allen, who happened to know what a tremendous hold the red-cheeked Dora had upon the affections of the tall boy.

“Well, let’s change the subject, Lanky,” he said. “You didn’t deny it when I remarked that something was exciting you. What is it? Anything that concerns me?”

“That’s just according to whether you mean to keep your word, and join me in my little look through that gypsy camp this afternoon or to-morrow morning,” was the quick response of the other.

“Oh that’s what ails you; is it?” exclaimed Frank, stopping to look once more into the eager face of his chum. “Why this new outburst? Have you heard anything more about that little girl you thought called to you, and held her hands out as if she wanted you to take her away from a cruel prison?”

“Now you’re taking your turn at having a little fun with me, Frank,” said Lanky, in an aggrieved tone. “But you just wait a bit. No, I haven’t heard a single word, one way or the other, about any girl in the gypsy camp. But, by a funny accident, I have learned about a child who was lost a month or so ago over in a Pennsylvania city; and, Frank, it was a little girl, too!”

CHAPTER VI
MAKING PLANS

Frank looked queerly at his companion as Lanky said this.

“But, say, didn’t I hear you make a remark a minute or so ago that there were plenty of girls?” he said; at which the other chuckled.

“That’s what you did, Frank; but then this is a different thing,” he replied.

“Oh! is that so, Lanky?”

“Because, you see, Bones laughed at the idea of such a thing happening in these times—as a child bein’ stolen. And when I ran across that story in an old paper over at our house, I cut it out, just to show you that every little while something like this does happen.”

“Have you got it along with you?” demanded Frank.

“Sure I have, and I want you to read it,” with which Lanky produced a long slip of paper, about three columns of newspaper matter.

Frank let his eye run along it hastily; but he had a faculty for gleaning all the points of a story almost at a glance. Some of the boys declared that Frank Allen would make a great reporter; but then there were many other positions in life in which he could make his mark, if half they said of him were true.

“Well, it’s an interesting story, I see,” he remarked; “and I hope that the poor mother, Mrs. Elverson, has found her little Effie long ago. For I notice that this is cut from a paper that’s two months and more old, Lanky.”

“That’s right, Frank,” the other answered, promptly.

“This account tells of how the nurse took the little girl out walking and never turned up again,” Frank went on to say.

“Just what it does, Frank, and I know what you’ve got on your mind.”

“They traced her to the train, and she set out for another city not far away, where the detectives lost the trail; and although a week had gone by when this account was printed, not a single thing had they learned. The nurse had disappeared just as if the ground had opened and swallowed her up, this reporter says.”

“His words, just like you say, Frank,” admitted Lanky, nodding his head encouragingly.

“But, Lanky, from start to finish of this story there isn’t a single mention of gypsies,” Frank continued.

“Huh, not a peep, sure’s you’re born, Frank.”

“Then what makes you bring it to me to read, just as if you felt dead sure this little dark-faced child in the gypsy van might be the golden-haired Effie Elverson?”

“Now, hold on, Frank,” interrupted the other, with a sudden change of front. “You know I didn’t say a word about that. Fact is, I explained in the start I only fetched this paper for you to see that what Bones said isn’t true. Right in these up-to-date times children do disappear once in a while. Yes, and I wouldn’t put it past a gypsy tribe to steal a little girl, and even dye her hair! Laugh, if you want to, Frank.”

“No, I’m not laughing, Lanky,” replied the other. “To tell the honest truth, somehow you’ve gone and got me worked up more than a little about this business. And since I promised to help you out, if I could, I’ll go along when you visit that gypsy camp. But we must lay our plans first.”

“How’s that?” demanded Lanky, eagerly; for when it came to mapping out a campaign he was always willing to yield the palm to his wide-awake chum.

“If you go to nosing around that camp without some good reason, I’m afraid you’ll get in a peck of trouble right away,” Frank went on, quietly. “Those gypsies are a hot-blooded crowd, and they don’t like being spied on. And it would be all the worse if it happened that there was any truth in what you suspect, and the queen kept a stolen child inside her big painted van.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Frank. What had we better do?” Lanky asked.

“I’ve been thinking that part of it over, and struck an idea that might pan out all right,” Frank remarked.

“I’d wager it was a good one before you said a word; but put me wise, Frank.”

“Why,” Frank began, “I remembered that the gypsies always made their camp at Budd’s Corners every year; and I hear they’ve settled down for a week’s stay this time at the old place. So I went over to see Mr. Budd.”

“Yes?” Lanky observed, in what he meant to be an encouraging tone.

“I told him all about it, Lanky; and, although he laughed at your idea, he was willing enough to make me a messenger, to do some business with the head of the tribe, who, you must know, is the old queen herself!”

“Say, you do beat anything I ever saw for getting down to business,” declared Lanky, proudly. “Why, that’ll just give us the chance of our lives to see what’s inside that big van of hers; won’t it?”

“It would, if she invites us in,” replied Frank; “you see, she might act suspicious. Perhaps she even noticed what you did when we passed the caravan Saturday. You turned your head, and stared straight at that particular van. I saw the driver look sour at you, just like he wanted to tell you to mind your own business. As to getting a look-in; as Jack Eastwick would say, ‘maybe, maybe not.’”

“But no matter,” persisted the determined Lanky, “even if we don’t get an invite to come in, you can be talking to the old lady to beat the band, while I just meander around the camp, and see what’s doing. Mebbe I might even run across the little girl somewhere. Just give me a chance to say ten words to her, and it’ll settle the business whether she’s bein’ kept there against her will.”

“Well, when shall we go—to-night, or in the morning early before school?” Frank went on to ask.

“I’ll see you after we get out this afternoon, and we can settle it then,” replied the tall boy, after reflection. “You see, seems to me the night time isn’t the best for what I want. She’s only a little mite of a girl, and chances are she’d be asleep by then. I’d rather take the mornin’, when she’d be wide-awake.”

“That’s where you show a wise head,” commented Frank, as they turned once more toward the schoolhouse at the other end of the campus, where scores of boys and girls were gathered in groups, or walking back and forth, laughing, talking and altogether making merry.

Frank pretended not to notice, but he saw Lanky suddenly stiffen up, and turn his head toward a certain point where a rather handsome, though proud-looking, young fellow was sauntering with a very pretty girl, who had just come to high school that year.

Of course this latter was the fickle Dora, about whom so much had been said, and who was surely pretty enough to turn the head of even a plain, sensible fellow like Lanky Wallace. And the boy could be no other than the “city fellow,” Walter Ackerman, toward whom half the maids in Columbia were friendly disposed, since he certainly was the best-looking boy in town.

Just then was heard a great shouting from the basement and a crowd of boys came trooping forth, laughing uproariously.

“There’s Bill Klemm and his bunch, with a few decent fellows in the bargain,” remarked Frank. “Soggy is having a fierce time with them right now. He threatens to complain to Professor Tyson Parke if they keep going on as they are; and you know, when good, old Soggy says that, he must be pretty well rattled, because he does hate to see the boys punished.”

“There he comes out, Frank, and he looks as mad as a wet hen,” remarked Lanky, glad to have his attention turned from the sight of Dora walking with the good-looking newcomer in Columbia; perhaps Lanky may have begun to fear that it had been partly his fault that unlucky quarrel had come about; but he would never admit it now, since she had taken to teasing him by openly encouraging the attentions of a fellow he was jealous about.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that Bill Klemm had been smoking again in the basement,” Frank suggested. “You know it’s against the rules; but little he cares for that. Some fine day they’ll be setting the school afire.”

“Yes,” went on Lanky, “and then good-bye to Bill Klemm, just the same as we got rid of Lef Sellers. It’ll have to be a skip-out for Bill, though, because his folks haven’t got the cash to send him to a military academy to get the training he needs.”

“Here comes Minnie Cuthbert and my sister, Helen; and they look like they wanted to speak to us, Lanky,” remarked Frank.

Two very attractive girls hurried up. One was Frank’s only sister, of whom his chums, Ralph Langworthy and Paul Bird, were both very fond. The other was a lively girl, whom Frank himself had taken to all the class dances, singing schools, as well as church choir meetings, for a long time.

The deposed town bully, Lef Sellers, had once hoped to be Minnie Cuthbert’s first choice, and the fact that Frank had stepped in between had been the main cause of his enmity toward our hero.

“It isn’t true; is it, Lanky?” demanded Minnie, as they came up. “He didn’t throw you over a tree, and then pound you with his hoofs as you lay on the ground?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” demanded Frank; but at the same time he smiled and thus betrayed his knowledge.

“Why, some of the boys have been telling us the greatest stories you ever heard, all about that terrible beast Farmer Hobson has out at his place. They say he chased Lanky around a tree in the pasture, and with his horns just tossed him—well, one said the tree was forty feet over, but Jack Eastwick modified it and called it thirty. But even that is a high jump for anyone to make!”

At that Frank exploded with laughter, and even Lanky grinned.

“Say, aren’t they the limit, now, giving the girls all that taffy?” the latter remarked. “I did meet with the farmer’s bull, Minnie, and he chased me around a tree, all right, because I couldn’t sprint as well as Frank and Bones, being too far from the fence at the time. So I climbed that tree. And in the end they got a rope to me, which I fastened to a high limb, and went hand over hand, till I was over the fence and out. And now they all say I’ve got to enter the athletic meet as the champion tight-rope walker, and performer on the high trapeze.”

Just then the bell rang for school to begin, and laughing at Lanky’s good-natured description of his wonderful adventure, the girls set out on a run toward the entrance of the fine building of which Columbia people were so proud.

CHAPTER VII
THE BENEFITS OF DISCIPLINE

“Fire!”

The dreadful cry is never heard without a wave of fear. And in a crowded school it must always strike terror to the hearts of every child, young and old. Yet that was what came floating in through the open windows, as the droning of pupils reciting ceased for a brief time between classes.

Fortunately, Professor Tyson Parke, the principal of the high school, had always insisted on the most rigid fire drill. Nobody ever knew when this was going to be sprung on them, for the one object was to make the pupils feel that there need never be any fear of a holocaust; since ample fire-escape stairways, iron ones along the outside of the great building, had been provided.

And so, on this afternoon, after that first spasm of alarm, some of the more knowing among the scholars quickly decided that it must be a last fire-drill test the principal was giving them, before the break-up for the summer holidays. Their confidence ran to others, just as a spark plays along a train of gunpowder. Some smiled, and even nodded their heads in a wise fashion, as if to say they could not be deceived, and that it was only a mock alarm after all.

The various teachers, as in duty bound, started their classes toward the fire-escapes which had been arranged especially for their use. There must be the utmost order preserved, for that was one of the rules to be strictly enforced.

But the first boys and girls who came out upon the iron balconies, and started to descend the stairways, realized that this time it was not the old cry of “wolf!” Dense clouds of smoke seemed to be pouring out of the basement; and Soggy was seen to be rushing here and there, as though he had lost his head in the excitement. Returning to the school, after going on an errand for the principal, he had discovered that a calamity threatened Columbia, with a large percentage of her half-grown children boxed up within those brick walls.

Down each stairway streamed the students. They had been appalled at first, but some of the teachers, keeping their heads, had circulated the story that it must be all a part of the principal’s plan to get them accustomed to the idea of a fire; and that the smoke, as well as Soggy’s wild behavior, was “make-believe.”

This was intended as a means to quiet the excited students; for the freshman class was the first to come forth, with the sophomores next; then the juniors, older and more seasoned; and the seniors last of all.

By the time Frank’s class issued forth, and began to hasten down the narrow stairways, the sight was a thrilling one. Smoke was now coming out of the basement windows, and the door, in great volume, showing that the fire must have found a good draught there among the kindling and coal left over from the preceding winter.

It was too bad, in one sense, that the seniors had to come out last; for among the older boys of this class, to graduate in June of this year, a fire-fighting organization had been built up. And even now as they came forth, a number of the lads carried buckets, while several had strapped on their backs chemical fire extinguishers; and others held hand grenades, meant to be hurled into the midst of a conflagration, which they were supposed to help put out by the liquid and gases set free by the bursting of the receptacle.

Frank Allen had been placed in command of this detachment of fire-fighters; for well did Professor Parke know the ability of the boy for undertaking any work of this kind.

When Frank hastened down the iron stairway he was figuring just how they should go about it in order to get the better of those fierce flames, which everyone now knew must be gaining more power each minute.

Professor Parke was directing the dismissal of the scholars, who were told to keep at least at the other end of the campus; for the firemen of Columbia might be expected to respond speedily to the alarm bell that was now beginning to sound its thrilling and brazen notes; and they would want all the space available in order to work.

Soggy, the janitor, was quite beside himself. Twice he had acted as though about to dash madly into the smoke-filled cellar, but was restrained by some of the teachers.

Frank gave one last look around, in order to make sure that his little company was at his back. He saw that some of the boys had white faces, but from the way they set their teeth together, it was evident that they meant to stand by him, no matter what happened. And that fact gave him courage; for had the boys weakened just then, Frank could have done nothing alone.

“It’s mostly smoke up to now, fellows!” he cried, as they drew nearer the entrance to the cellars. “And we’ve just got to get in there, and put it out. Don’t you smell pine wood smouldering? Well, that shows where the fire is, over in the bin where Soggy keeps the kindling. We all ought to know every inch of this cellar, because we’ve played in here every wet recess. Ready to follow me, now?”

“You bet we are!” called out several; for it only needs a leader in any crisis, and hosts are ready to follow.

“Keep in a bunch,” continued Frank, coolly. “And remember, no one must throw his hand grenade without orders. Scattered, they won’t do a bit of good; but sent to the right spot they can knock out nearly any blaze going. Come along, fire-fighters! We’ve just got to save good old Columbia High!”

When the crowd of students, girls and boys, saw that dozen brave lads boldly enter the cellar from which that pungent smoke was pouring, they held their breath with suspense. In fact, just at that moment, besides the crying of a few hysterical younger girls, the only sounds that could be heard were the brazen notes of the town alarm bell, calling the volunteer firemen to rally at the engine house.

Already people were running wildly toward the high school.

As soon as Frank, in the van of the boy fire-fighters, had entered the cellar, he saw that the situation was not quite as bad as he had feared. True, the smoke made their eyes sting, but through it they could see some tongues of flame beginning to play fiercely among the waste wood in the great bin.

He headed straight that way. Just as Frank had said, every boy ought to know the lay of things down here. Close by was the refreshment room where Mrs. Louden disposed of certain light luncheons during recess. Sometimes she went home immediately after school began again, for she had much cooking to do. Then again, she would stay until after school was out at half-past one; to cater to those students who had not exhausted their funds, and had a long way to go before reaching home.

On this particular day it happened she had left early; and that was why no one had discovered the fire, which must have been smouldering quite some time before the alarm was given by an outsider, passing the school.

Frank immediately felt renewed confidence. A man with a hose just then could have extinguished the fire without much effort, though it was just getting a good start. Ten minutes later—yes, even when five minutes had elapsed—it might have proved beyond holding, and the building be doomed.

Frank had a fire extinguisher on his back, and this he instantly set playing upon the blaze. Two other boys, upon receiving orders from the foreman, copied his example; while those who carried hand grenades, or small liquid-filled receptacles, intended to put out fires that were just beginning, began to get in their work.

“Hurrah!” they shrieked, as they saw an immediate change begin to take place in the character of the threatening fire; “give it to the old thing, Frank! Soak it good and plenty, fellows! We’ve got it on the run! We’ll knock spots out of it, sure as you live. Hurrah for the Columbia High fire brigade! Whoop-la! once more now, and all together, boys!”

They certainly did smite that rising blaze right and left. Such a combination of chemicals as was poured upon it was enough to discourage almost any fire.

“We’ve got it on the run, boys!” cried the exultant Frank, as he saw that, bit by bit, the flames had begun to jump up less fiercely, and gave positive signs of giving up the unequal contest altogether. “Here, who’s that down there? Red Huggins has fainted with the smoke, fellows! Bones, you and Paul Bird carry him out! Come back again, if you can get hold of any water, and bring buckets, so we can soak this bin from end to end.”

The boy who had succumbed to the smoke, which he had inhaled, was carried out of the cellar. The appearance of those who held him by the legs and head was the signal for a gasp of horror. Then the news was circulated that the fire was under control, and that Red had only swooned.

Loud cheers began to arise, for everyone was wildly excited by this time; and it could be noticed that the teachers were as vociferous as any of the students.

Buckets of water began to arrive, and were carried in to the fire-fighters, who dashed them upon the last spluttering remnant of the blaze, which gave up with a final hiss.

Leaving some newcomers to continue this treatment, Frank ordered his band out of the basement. He knew from his own feelings that they were almost at a point where they might drop down, just as Red Huggins had. The smoke smarted their eyes so that they were nearly blind when they finally issued forth. And how good that pure air did seem, as they drew it into their lungs, which had, for some little time, been filled with smoke-laden atmosphere!

Around them pressed a dense throng. Parents had arrived in squads by now; in fact, everyone in Columbia must be on the way there at least; and filled with a terrible fear concerning the boys and girls whom they knew were students under that single roof.

Cheers were rising in waves, and growing with each demonstration, led by Professor Parke in person, who was very proud of his boys, and would never forget how they had, in following out his exact directions for an emergency, saved the building of Columbia High.

“Here come the fire engine and the ladder wagon, full tilt!” shouted someone; and then the shouts broke out afresh; but now they were happy cries.

“It’s all over! Go back home, and put away your helmets for another day. You’ve lost your job, boys! Frank Allen and his high-school fire brigade put it all out! Three cheers for Frank and his bunch! Everybody yell now.”

It was the loud-voiced cheer captain who shouted these words; and it seemed as if a thousand people joined Herman Hooker in the cheers he called for, that made the ears of Frank Allen and his comrades burn, even as their eyes had smarted with the smoke of the fire in the basement of the high school.

CHAPTER VIII
LANKY’S PRIDE CONQUERS

Professor Parke asked the young fire-fighters to stay a while, after he had given instructions that the rest of the students leave for home. As far as possible he wished to soothe the excited condition of the crowds that thronged around the building. And he also wished to personally thank each and every one of those brave lads who had done such splendid work in getting the fire under control.

The firemen of the town took matters in hand, and saw to it that there was not the slightest chance of a stray spark being left undiscovered, to play havoc, perhaps at night time.

They also wanted to investigate; for it seemed very queer how a blaze could originate in the cellar when no fires were going at the time. Some of the boys believed they could give a guess; and soon it was being circulated far and wide that Bill Klemm and his two cronies had been lighting matches in the basement at recess that very day, just to provoke old Soggy.

But they seemed to have made themselves scarce. When Chief of Police Hogg, dressed in his resplendent uniform, with a silver star gleaming on his broad chest, called around at the several homes of the three suspected ones late that afternoon, to make inquiries, they were not to be found anywhere. And before long it was known that Bill, Asa and Watkins must have run away from home, afraid that they would be arrested. At any rate, they had been seen making fast time away, as soon as they got out of the building, and before it was known that the school could be saved.

The principal started making inquiries on his own account, and after hearing what the janitor had to say, he could easily guess what had caused the fire. Of course the three boys to blame had not intended doing anything so terrible as to set fire to the school. They had broken a strict rule laid down by the head, however, and must be severely punished, when found.

“Frank,” said Professor Parke, as he joined the little group of waiting boys, “and the rest of you, I hope you will pardon my keeping you here so long; but I found it difficult to get away from some of the school directors, who are bent on investigating, and taking action toward securing the punishment of the offenders. And my dear boys, I could not let you go without taking each one of you again by the hand and telling you how proud I am of you all.”

There were really tears in his eyes while he spoke; and Frank knew that if ever the principal were sincere in all his life it was just then.

Professor Parke was an almost universal favorite among the pupils of Columbia High. Out of all the students but a small fraction found any reason to dislike the head of the school; and, as a rule, they were just such characters as Bill Klemm.

“Of course,” continued the head master, with a twinkle in his eye, “all of you will be distressed, I know, to learn that we will be unable to hold school to-morrow, because of the excitement; as well as the smoky odor that has permeated every classroom in the building. The directors think it would be too vivid a reminder of the thrill of to-day; and they have instructed me to send out word that the building will not be in use until Wednesday.”

The boys tried hard not to smile, but it was no use; for when did the promise of an unexpected holiday bring gloom to the heart of the average, youth, whether in the primary class, or the senior grade?

“And by the way, Soggy wishes you to come down and see him in the basement before you go home,” the principal went on, as he dismissed Frank and his corps of fire-fighters. “He is enthusiastic over the fact that you mastered the blaze before the regular department arrived. Why, he says the building would have gone, only for your prompt work. After this you can ask Soggy anything, and he’ll grant it. He’s got you down in his book as heroes, everyone.”

They found the cellar in a sad mess, for the water was inches deep on the cement floor, the regulars meaning to have some fun out of it, after being “called to the colors” by the alarm bell.

Soggy pounced upon the boys, and went around, shaking everyone by the hand as though “he thought he had hold of a pump-handle, and was the early morning milkman,” Lanky Wallace declared.

“Now that it’s all over, boys,” the pleased janitor declared, “sure I’m believin’ ’twas worth all it cost to find out what sort of stuff you young gentlemen had in you! I’ll never forget it, never! And Columbia High is still on the map, I’m glad to say, thanks to you. Nine names I’m going to write down in my book; and, boys, if Soggy can do anyone of you a favor, just let him know. He’s willing to go to the extent of his wages any time.”

“Let’s get out of this,” called Ben Allison.

“Yes, it’s getting too warm again, boys!” cried Bones Shadduck; for some of the larger juniors were classed with the seniors as fire-fighters.

And so they came trooping out of the basement, laughing heartily. Soggy was a favorite with most of the boys. There could hardly have been a more efficient janitor; and yet he bemoaned the fact for a long time that he had not discovered some trace of the smouldering blaze before he went on that errand for the principal, to find the building endangered on his return.

But if Frank believed that he had run the gauntlet to its conclusion when he got through with Soggy, he counted wrongly. Beyond the confines of the campus a group of the girls waited, eager to greet the heroes of the occasion, and perhaps secure to themselves just a little of the glory that was apt to shine like a halo around the heads of those happy fire-fighters.

Minnie was there, and Frank smiled to see the eager look she bent on him as he joined her.

“Oh, Frank! how do you feel?” she asked, anxiously. “All that horrid smoke you must have swallowed, I should think would make you sick. You do look pale right now; and you ought to go home and lie down.”

“Well, what sort of sissy do you take me for, Minnie?” asked the amused Frank. “A boy ought to be used to smoke. Lots of them seem to get a lot of pleasure out of soaking themselves in it, when they go to college, you know. Why, I’m feeling as fit as ever, I guess; and I expect to go on that long run this afternoon, just to keep in trim for the trial heats Saturday next.”

“Of course I’m glad to hear you say that, Frank; but it did frighten us when we saw you lead the way into the cellar, with all that black smoke pouring out.”

“It wasn’t so very black, you know, Minnie,” interrupted Frank, teasingly.

“Well, anyway,” she went on, “Helen and I just fell into each other’s arms; and we stood that way, hugging tight, all the time you were in there. We’re both proud of you; and Helen would be here to say the same if she wasn’t so busy telling Paul Bird something like that right now.”

Lanky Wallace was hovering around, as though he wanted to speak to Frank; and the latter could give a pretty good guess what it might be.

“Just wait for me a minute while I speak to Lanky, Minnie,” he remarked; “and then I’d like to walk home with you. I’ve got something to say about that little boat-ride we planned to take to-night, because the moon is full, and it’s going to be a glorious night. Can you wait for me a minute or two, Minnie?”

“I suppose so, seeing that I’ve already waited an hour almost; but be as quick as you can, Frank, for I’m almost famished, I confess to you,” was the reply; as the girl gave him one of her most roguish smiles, for which almost any sensible fellow would feel like going through fire and water, if he could feel that it was meant as a reward for his daring.

“Say, I didn’t like to call you away,” remarked Lanky, as Frank joined him. “But I wanted to say that as we have that run this afternoon, and there’s going to be no session to-morrow, perhaps we’d better postpone our trip to Budd’s Corners, till the morning. How does that suit you, Frank?”

“All right,” replied the other, briskly; “I couldn’t go to-night anyhow, for Minnie made a date with me to take her out boat-riding in the full of the moon. Is that all you wanted to say, Lanky?”

“Yes; and now return to your pleasant little chat with Minnie,” the other said, with a long-drawn sigh that Frank understood very well.

“By the way, Lanky,” he remarked, “seems to me I saw you talking with Dora just a little while ago. Have you made up again?”

“Not that I’ve heard about,” replied Lanky, gloomily. “Of course, I want to treat her civilly, as a fellow always ought a girl he used to think a heap of; but I can’t forget how she gave me the cold shake that night we had the class dance in the barn. If she’d only ask me to forget that, I’d quit feeling like thirty cents, and perk up again.”

“But she was talking to you; wasn’t she?” persisted Frank.

“Why, yes, she said she was glad I got out of that cellar O. K.; that she was so proud to think that she and I used to be such very good friends; and a lot more of the same kind; but not a peep about bein’ sorry because she cut me that night. And, Frank, I guess I showed her that I wasn’t carin’ a cent. I was as cool as you please; and thanked her just like you might the mayor of Columbia, if he came to tell you the town fathers had voted a medal for your work to-day.”

Frank looked at him curiously. He knew the state of Lanky’s feelings, and that the tall chap cared more for fickle little Dora than he was willing to acknowledge. And then and there Frank determined to enlist the services of Minnie Cuthbert in trying to heal the breach between the two estranged ones; though, of course, he would not think of hinting about this to proud Lanky.

“I guess you must have, Lanky,” he said, shortly; “because I saw her turn, and walk away with her head held high in the air. You didn’t notice her hand when she held it out to you, I suppose?”

“Well,” replied the other, with a flush of what might be regret, “you see that smoke it was fierce, and I’ve been about half blind ever since.”

He turned abruptly and walked away. Perhaps it may have been the smoke caused his eyes to water then, for Frank was positive he saw them glisten with some suspicious moisture.

“The poor old chap does feel it more than he’ll admit,” he said to himself as he started to rejoin the impatient Minnie. “But if anybody can fix things, Minnie will. Takes a girl like her to handle a delicate subject. She’ll get chummy-like with Dora, and draw her out. Then she’ll tell her how bad Lanky feels, and what she ought to do as the right thing, after cutting him dead that night. Oh! it’ll be all right soon, I reckon.”

And as Frank walked home with Minnie Cuthbert they had their heads close together in a way that made more than one old gossip smile and look wise; not knowing that they were discussing the carrying-out of a generous act.

CHAPTER IX
AMONG THE NOMADS OF THE ROAD

“There’s the gypsy camp, all right, Lanky,” remarked Frank, on the following morning, about nine, as the two chums sauntered along the road beyond the confines of the town of Columbia.

They had managed to elude all their friends, in some way or other; for since Lanky was determined to settle the question that had been bothering him ever since first passing the gypsy caravan, it was of the utmost importance that they enter the camp of the nomads without a crowd of chums to keep them company.

“That’s right, Frank,” remarked the other, with a little laugh; “and just as you said, I was off my base when I thought they might’ve pulled up stakes, and cleared out durin’ the night. Of course nobody knows what’s in my mind, and so they’ve not gone and got scar’t. Well, we’ll soon see now whether I’ve been a loon, or if that kid did mean to attract my attention.”

FRANK AND LANKY VISIT THE GYPSY CAMP.
Boys of Columbia High in track Athletics. Page 81.

“Are you still thinking the same way?” asked Frank, in a low tone; for they were by this time approaching the outskirts of the gypsy encampment, where several gay tents had been erected among the expensive wagons with the commodious and painted tops, that were made to serve for both sleeping and eating places.

“Can’t just get to see it any other way, I tell you,” Lanky persisted. “I’ve been turning and twisting it around every which direction, but all the time I just seem to see that little girl holdin’ out her baby hands to me. Never did have such a thing grip me, I give you my word, Frank.”

“All right, then,” replied his chum, resolutely. “We’ll go through the performance just like we planned it. I only wanted to make sure you hadn’t backed water, because it wouldn’t be worth while to take the chances unless you felt dead sure there might be something in it.”

“I’m going to do just as you said, Frank, and look like any fellow might when he had a chance to walk around in a gypsy camp. There’s lots of queer things to see; and I want to talk with one or two of those boys, if so be they’ll answer civil questions. But you can bet I don’t touch on that subject once. But, Frank, I’ll use my eyes to beat the band; and if she’s around I’m bound to see her.”

“Well, here we are, close up now; so haul off, and fight shy of the matter. Let’s jabber away like a couple of boys would, that had been sent here on an errand, and wanted to look around, just to see how these ramblers live when they are in camp.”

Lanky, to use his own expression, “buttoned up his lips” right then and there. He could not tell when some member of the gypsy tribe might be lying behind a bush, and overhear what they were saying; and it was the part of discretion to keep a close watch over everything they did from now on.

Suspicious looks greeted their arrival at the camp. Both men and women, even the younger element among the nomads, seemed to question the wisdom of allowing a couple of boys to enter the enclosure where the belongings of the tribe were scattered about.

But Frank stepped up to the first man he met, and there was something so manly about his demeanor that unconsciously, before he had spoken a word, the gypsy smiled.

“I want to see the queen, Esther you call her, I think,” was what Frank said.

“She is not telling fortunes any more,” said the man. “It has brought us more trouble than dollars, and so she has stopped. But they were always true; and sometimes the house-dwellers liked them not on that account.”

“But I don’t want to see her for that,” Frank insisted.

“What would you, then, boy?” demanded the man, a little suspiciously now.

“I have been sent here to see her by the gentleman who owns this land,” Frank continued, boldly. “The old agreement has run out, and it was understood that the next time you came to stay here, your leader would make a new one. I have brought it for the queen to sign, after we have talked the matter over.”

At that the gypsy’s eyes showed more wonder than ever. Undoubtedly he marveled to see a mere boy sent on such an important errand. But, at any rate, Frank’s explanation seemed to have cleared away the doubts that were beginning to harass his mind.

“If that is so, come with me. I will show you where the queen can be found,” he said, with more respect than he had used before.

Frank turned to his companion, and remarked, in a careless way:

“Just make yourself at home, Lanky, till I get through. I guess there won’t be any objection to his hanging around the camp a while; will there? He wants to understand how gypsies live when on the road, you see.”

“It’s all right; let him stay as long as he wants. You come this way with me,” and as he said this the swarthy-faced, squatty man started off.

Frank was about to follow when he heard Lanky draw his breath in a curious way, which had been arranged as a signal between them. And coming when it did, this told Frank that his chum meant to say something in a low tone as they stood for a few seconds, before he himself followed the gypsy.

“I saw something,” muttered Lanky, when their heads were close together.

“What was it?” asked Frank, quickly.

“Over at the big wagon, where you’re going now,” the other went on.

“Where the queen lives, you mean?” asked Frank.

“Well, she must ’a’ just discovered that there were strangers in the camp, because I saw her chase something up the steps into the wagon. She hid it with her dress all the while, so I couldn’t make sure; but, Frank, I just know, as certain as I’m here, that it must have been that kid. She don’t want anybody outside to set eyes on that little girl. Now, why should she act that way if the child belonged to her people? I tell you, it looks more and more to me like there must be fire where you find smoke.”

There was no opportunity to say any more. The gypsy man had come to a halt, and was waiting for Frank to overtake him. Perhaps he supposed that the messenger was warning his companion to be careful how he touched anything, and got himself in a mess with the campers.

Frank was soon face to face with a middle-aged woman, whose face, though marked by many wrinkles, had a keen look upon it. Her black eyes seemed to bore him through. He had seen Queen Esther on other occasions, for these gypsies came along about the same time every year, camping in the pasture at Budd’s Corners, and trading horses with the farmers for miles around.

If a farmer had a horse that did not please him he would hold it until these nomads arrived, when he tried to drive a shrewd bargain with them. But, though at the time he might flatter himself on having gotten the best part of the trade, as time rolled on he would awaken to the fact that after all he was mistaken. But by then the gypsies were sure to be far on their way; and a whole year would elapse before they again made their appearance on the scene.

Frank quickly introduced the subject that had brought him there. He believed he saw a sudden look of relief flash over the strongly marked features of the queen, as though certain fears had been set at rest.

She immediately began to discuss the proposition suggested by Mr. Budd, and with a business-like manner that proved her right to be at the head of the tribe. The owner of the field had entered into the spirit of Frank’s design; and in order to give Lanky more time in which to do his prowling, the negotiations were prolonged by various little hitches that had to be smoothed away.

So slow was Frank in reaching an agreement, and getting it properly signed, that half an hour must have passed since he and Lanky first arrived at the borders of the gypsy encampment.

And all of this time the tall lad was having a chance to roam around the camp, observing what went on, and doubtless picking up points that might prove of more or less value to him later on.

Frank saw him from time to time, but seemed to pay not the slightest attention to what he was doing. And on Lanky’s part it can be said with truth that he surely gave his chum no trouble whatever. He sauntered here, and stopped there to watch some boys playing a game with a pocket-knife very similar to mumble-the-peg, with which of course Lanky was familiar.

All this time Frank was somewhat nervous, for he did not know but what at any minute there might be a sudden explosion. Lanky was apt to be impulsive; and if he really found that his suspicions had good grounds to rest upon, possibly the rash fellow might try to carry off the little girl. Frank had warned him, however, against anything so foolish, and gained his solemn promise to let it be taken in hand by those more capable of engineering the deal than two boys might seem to be.

But there was no alarm, for which Frank felt happy. And having finally gained the signature of Queen Esther to the new contract, though she grumbled over the rate of renting the pasture for two weeks each spring, Frank was now ready to depart from the strange camp.

He too looked around him curiously. Many unfamiliar scenes greeted his eyes to the right and to the left. Frank had watched the gypsy queen while they talked, and he was ready to admit that she certainly showed signs of nervousness more than a few times. Again and again would she half turn her head, and always to glance up at the elevated door that marked the rear of the big van, near which they sat on a rustic bench and talked.

To tell the truth, she did seem bothered about something connected with that same wagon. Frank had sat down in such a position that he could himself steal a curious look that way from time to time; but though the minutes had crept along, he could not say that he had once seen that closed door move during the period of his conference with Queen Esther.

He found Lanky waiting for him near the border of the camp, examining the gypsy way of making a fire, with a big iron pot hanging over the flames by means of a stout chain, that in turn was fastened to a heavy iron bar resting in the crotches of two stakes driven into the ground.

“Makes me think of the old witch scene in ‘Macbeth’ we were reading about the other day, where they dance around the fire, and say, ‘Boil and bubble, toil and trouble,’” Frank remarked as, joined by his chum, they both strode out from among the wagons, children with dusky faces and staring black eyes, keen-faced men, and chattering women, and headed for the road.

“Well, what did you find out?” asked Frank, when they were beyond sight of the camp.

“I saw her again,” said Lanky, drawing a long breath as of repressed excitement.

“Did she say anything; or did you have a chance to ask her what you said you meant to?” was what Frank fired at his chum.

“Well, no, Frank,” replied Lanky, slowly, but with triumph in his voice; “you see, the old queen was so close I was afraid she’d hear me. But I made motions to let the little girl know I was her friend, when she poked her head out of that side window of the wagon; and what d’ye think, she just dropped this out to me!” and he held up a small object before the astonished eyes of his chum.

CHAPTER X
THE BUNCH FROM BELLPORT

Frank looked hastily around him to see that they were not observed. Then he took the article which Lanky Wallace was holding out.

“Why, it’s a child’s little bonnet, Lanky!” he exclaimed.

“Glad to see you guess that at the start,” remarked the excited Lanky, with a touch of humor in his voice.

“And the little one dropped this down to you; did she?” pursued Frank, as he again thoughtfully examined the article of wearing apparel.

“Just what she did, Frank. Never said a single word, either; just gave me a look I won’t soon forget. Reckon she’s frightened to death of that old gypsy queen, and didn’t dare give a little peep. But, Frank, don’t you see the poor little thing wanted me to understand something?”

“I think she did, Lanky,” replied the other, a serious look on his face.

“It’s a child’s bonnet, just like you say, Frank; but tell me, do you think for a single minute any gypsy child ever wore such a contraption as that?”

“No, I don’t, for a fact, Lanky,” answered Frank, readily.

“Looks kinder expensive to me, even if it’s badly soiled right now; eh, Frank?” continued the tall boy.

“Yes, you’re right, it was an expensive bonnet, Lanky. No poor person could ever afford to buy such a thing for his little girl. It stands for money. Now, the question comes, how did that bonnet ever get into the hands of the little, dark-faced girl in the queen’s wagon; and what did she want you to understand by dropping it before you?”

“Frank, honest to goodness now, don’t you see that it was a regular mute appeal? Here was the only link that poor little thing had, connecting her with the happy past, before she fell into the hands of these rough gypsy rovers. Somehow it must have seemed to her that if she ever could get back again to the ones who used to love her that bonnet was going to do the trick!”

Lanky could hardly contain himself, he was so excited.

“I wonder now if that could be so?” mused Frank, still looking at the delicate little article, made up chiefly of lace and silk, with a faded blue ribbon fastened to it.

He examined it closely as though entertaining a faint hope that he might discover some clue to the past. But in spite of his efforts nothing resulted from his search.

“Well, what do you think, Frank?” demanded the impatient Lanky, after a little time had elapsed, and he considered that his chum must have made up his mind.

“Seems to me there’s only one thing you can do,” came the reply.

“Then tell me,” begged Lanky.

“You’ve got that clipping safe and sound, I hope?” asked Frank.

“Sure I have, and right here in my jeans now,” Lanky replied.

“Let me look over it again,” Frank remarked; and upon his chum pushing the fragment of newspaper in his hand, he studied it as he walked on.

“I’m glad of one thing,” he remarked, presently, when Lanky thought he could not stand the suspense much longer. “They give the gentleman’s home address here, which is a lucky thing for us.”

“Chuck that, Frank, and tell me what you mean,” Lanky pleaded.

“Why, you’ve got to communicate with this Mr. Elverson right away, and ask him if his little girl, who was carried away by a crazy or revengeful nurse, months ago, wore a little bonnet made of lace and silk, and decorated with a pale blue ribbon.”

“Wow! all that is going to take a few good plunks to pay the expense, if you mean I must telegraph it!” exclaimed Lanky.

“I’ll help you out, if you’re short, and you ought to know that,” Frank immediately declared; “and my father would back me to any extent, I’m dead sure. This begins to look as though there might be something in it; and if that child is being held there in that gypsy camp against her will, she must be taken away from them.”

“Hurrah! that sounds good to me, Frank!” cried the delighted Lanky, pleased beyond measure to learn that his cautious chum had finally decided to come over to his side of the fence.

“And the sooner we go about that part of the business the better. I’ve got some money with me, and if we need more I know where to go for it, Lanky.”

“That’s the idea!” declared the tall lad; “nothing like striking while the iron is hot, as we used to learn in our copybooks in school, when we were kids. Let’s head for the station right now, then, Frank, and see if we can’t hatch up a message that ought to give this Mr. Elverson the shock of his life.”

Ten minutes later two boys, breathing hard from fast walking, appeared at the little railroad station in Columbia, and asked for a bunch of telegraph blanks.

“My! you must be going to keep me busy the rest of the morning, boys!” remarked the young fellow who acted as ticket agent, express representative and telegraph operator combined.

“Oh! we’ll let you have time to grab a bite of lunch, Conrad,” replied Lanky, in his humorous fashion.

It took the boys about half an hour to concoct a satisfactory message. They wanted to cover all the ground without wasting words; for money did not grow on bushes, Lanky remarked, as he cut out several adjectives that counted for little.

Lanky wanted to sign Frank’s name to the message, but the other refused to allow it.

“This is your affair, and I’m not going to butt in,” he declared positively. “And I only hope you reach the gentleman without delay, so that you may have a reply soon.”

“What could delay it?” asked Lanky. “Seems to me that he’ll be just wild to get in touch with us, if that bonnet is like the one his child wore when the nurse lit out with her.”

“He might be away from home, you know, and they would have some trouble in getting him,” Frank observed, for he knew his chum would be bitterly disappointed if he did not hear from Mr. Elverson right away; why, just as likely as not Lanky would lie awake half the night, expecting to hear the telephone bell ring, and the voice of the night operator at the station calling for him.

They had to look very mysterious when Conrad, the agent at the station, having read the message, and counted the words, informed them it would cost three dollars and a quarter; and then seemed to expect them to tell him what was in the wind. For Frank had cautioned his rather talkative chum not to breathe a word about it to a living soul until they had heard from the gentleman.

“Now we’ve got the rest of the day before us,” said Frank, as they left the station, arm in arm; “what are we going to do with it?”

“It’s about ten, now,” Lanky remarked, “and I reckon there’ll be quite a squad of our fellows down at the athletic field, tryin’ every stunt going; because, you see, lots of ’em believe they can qualify for the broad jump, the shot-put, the hammer-throw, or even in the sprints. And you’ll see some of the queerest athletic work ever if you come down there right now.”

“I’ll go you, then, Lanky,” agreed Frank. “Besides, I heard someone say there was going to be a big bunch from Bellport coming over to watch, and see what our boys could do. You heard what happened in both Clifford and Bellport, didn’t you, last night?”

“You mean when they got news about the fire at our school, and that Columbia was going to get to-day off for a holiday, the trustees of both the other high schools called meetings, and agreed to close up shop for to-day, too. Mighty decent of them, I say, Frank.”

“Well, what else could they do?” the other went on to say. “The boys who expect to enter the competition could claim that Columbia would have a big advantage in an extra day for practice. Even now there’s been some lively grumbling among some of the Bellport crowd, to the effect that we’re favored in the way things are run.”

“Well, it isn’t so,” declared Lanky, indignantly. “There never was a fairer arrangement when the three schools came to meet up with each other. I kinder had an idea some of those Bellport fellows were in for making trouble; and it wouldn’t surprise me a little bit, Frank, if they started their racket to-day.”

“Oh, I hope not,” remarked Frank; “that would be too bad to have Bellport on the outs with us. Their athletic captain, Cuthbert Lee, is a square fellow, if ever one could be. But let’s put on a little speed, and make for the field.”

About a mile from the border of Columbia lay the athletic field, that had been given over to the boys of the town by some gentleman whose heart remained young, even though his hair had taken on a silvery tint.

Here a grand-stand had been built, and there were several houses where those who competed in the events could dress. There was even a shower-bath, and numerous other appliances looking to the comfort of Columbia boys; with a keeper to take charge of it all, and prevent destruction of property.

Usually the Columbia people went to see the baseball and football matches on foot, for the distance was not great. Crowds came from Bellport and Clifford by way of boats on the river, or, in the case of the former town, by using the trolley that connected the two places.

Some of the Columbia fellows who had boats were wont to use them, any excuse to get on the water being eagerly seized upon, especially if some of the girls were of the same mind.

And so, as Frank and Lanky drew near the big field, they seemed to see young people moving in all directions, the vast majority of them heading for the pleasure-ground; since it was known that many of the boys would be practicing diligently, taking advantage of this unexpected holiday.

“What did I tell you?” remarked Lanky, in an aside to his chum, as they discovered a big bunch of high-school fellows, with blue bands around their hats, coming from the direction of the trolley, and talking boisterously.

“Some of the Bellport fellows, sure enough,” Frank replied; for he recognized several familiar faces; and the blue ribbon told the story by itself.

“Yes, and if you tried to pick out the loudest talkers in all Bellport you’d be apt to find them in that crowd,” Lanky went on. “Honest Injun, now, Frank, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had come over here to-day just to josh our boys, and make trouble. Why, there might be a fight before the day is done.”

“That would be too bad,” Frank said, looking serious at the very thought. “We’ve always been on mighty good terms with Bellport, and for one I’d hate to see any bad blood between the two schools. We’ll try and warn our fellows not to pay too much attention to what they may say. It takes two to make a quarrel, you know.”

CHAPTER XI
ALMOST A RIOT

The scene was a lively one. Scores of high school boys, all of them belonging in Columbia, were working out their various theories for succeeding in the trials which were scheduled to come off on the following Saturday. Each fellow seemed to have his own particular way of trying to excel; and some of these were really remarkable, affording plenty of amusement to the good-natured crowd of young people, boys and girls combined, coming from town to watch operations.

When Saturday night came around it was expected that the programme would have been carried out, and the selections for the grand meet concluded. The very best in every class would have been chosen; and after that Columbia could settle down to wait for the day when the question of supremacy between the rival schools was once more to be tested in open and square sport, without fear or favor.

A number of the more stocky boys were engaged in putting the shot, and throwing the discus or hammer. Jack Comfort seemed to be by all odds the favorite in these events, though there were several who believed they had a chance.

Even fat Buster Billings was seen in light attire, and perspiring freely as he hopped around, and finally sent out the weight with about the grace of a waddling duck. Once he even fell headlong after letting go, and rolled like a barrel, to the intense delight of the spectators.

Others were practising the broad and standing jump; and close by the apparatus used for the high jump was in constant use, the crossbar falling from the uprights again and again, as some aspirant’s foot caught in going over.

Still there were several fine jumpers among those who kept trying, and the crossbar was moved up inch by inch as they cleared it handsomely, amid the plaudits of the admiring throng.

Further on the pole-vaulters were making their swift little run, and rising to clear their elevated bar. Of course in this particular there were numerous failures, and some of the jumpers had bothersome falls. One boy went off limping, and assisted by a friend, having bruised his leg painfully.

But these things must be expected among a parcel of untrained schoolboys, whose muscles are not as hard as they should be.

Somehow Lanky and Frank were more interested in the work of the sprinters, for that was in their own line. They timed some of the dashes, and exchanged satisfied looks. There seemed to be considerable talent among this class; and unless the rival schools developed a marvel or two, they would have all they could do to keep at the heels of these lively Columbia lads.

From time to time the two boys were hailed by those they knew best; and Lanky seemed to be in an unusually fine humor, even for him. But Frank, of course, understood the reason for this. He could see that Lanky somehow turned his head, and looked at nearly every newcomer. He seemed to think there would be a messenger from the telegraph office hunting him up; since the answer to his message was sure to be marked “very important.”

Loud voices attracted their attention later on, and Frank was sorry to discover that some of the Columbia boys were engaged in a wordy dispute with the big crowd of Bellport students who had come over in a fighting mood.

“It’s a put-up job, that’s what it is!” one of the latter was saying, roughly.

“Yes, things have all got a string on ’em,” added another, with a sneer. “It’s no wonder Columbia nearly always wins when they know how to pull the wires, and get the inside track! On even terms, Bellport would lick you out of your boots; and I don’t care who hears me say it.”

“Oh! come off now,” remonstrated a Columbia boy; “you know better than that, Sim Reeves. We’ve been beaten by Bellport and Clifford, and beaten fairly, too. Did we kick, and set up a howl of fraud? Not much. We took off our hats to the victors, and said we were sorry to admit that they were the better fellows that day; but we hoped to tell a different story another time.”

“Yes, you did!” jeered a third Bellport fellow. “Right now you’ve got this competition all cooked up, so that the plums will fall to Columbia. Wasn’t it engineered by a Columbia gentleman, who put up all the money for the prizes? Sure it was; and the committee just hated to think of any of those fine medals going to Bellport, so they arranged things to give the home crowd all the advantage.”

“Prove it by showing us a single thing that isn’t square!” cried an angry Columbia student, shaking his fist at the speaker.

“Oh! rats! they covered their tracks all right,” the Bellport boy flung back. “Being used to such tricks, they can do it so nobody could just put a finger on anything; but all the same the feeling is there that we’re going to be buncoed right from the start.”

“Huh! if I felt that way I wouldn’t take part in the meet at all!” called out one of the touchy Columbia boys.

“Perhaps we won’t,” came the immediate answer. “A lot of us have come over here to-day, not so much to see what you’re all doing, as to tell you what they think in Bellport of your committee’s work. We know there are a few square fellers in Columbia; but the majority aren’t standin’ back on taking advantage of a crooked deal arranged for them by their committee.”

Frank was shocked at hearing such talk. He knew that the better class of Bellport fellows would never stand for it; but was afraid that the two schools might be drawn into a dispute that would put a stop to all their friendly rivalry in field and track sports.

“Bellport’s sore because of that football drubbing she got last fall!” called out a Columbia backer, one word leading to another, as is always the case when boys get to accusing each other.

“And the hockey game that went against her, not to mention baseball!” echoed still another warm adherent of the local school.

“Oh! be a sport, and take your medicine! You’ve all got an even chance to win, and I don’t believe there’s a Columbia fellow who’ll accept a medal, or a prize, if he thought he’d been favored in the least!”

But the war of words went on from bad to worse. All sorts of accusations began to pass between the two crowds, for the Bellport boys had come over with the full intention of making trouble.

While they were having it in this fashion who should come in sight but Chief Hogg, dressed as usual in his resplendent uniform. Someone had managed to telephone to police headquarters that there was danger of a riot among the boys at the recreation field; and the head of the local force had pompously driven out there.

But if anybody expected that the appearance of the stout chief would stop the tongues of that rough Bellport crowd they were mistaken. They jeered at the sight of the policeman’s uniform, and matters seemed getting worse than ever.

The Columbia girls huddled up in groups, watching the excited boys argue, while arms were waved, and sticks shaken. Frank had seen all this, and having a sudden inspiration he hurried into the building where the telephone was located.

“I want to get Bellport in a hurry,” he said to the girl who, during these times, had charge of the booth at the sporting field.

“I can do that for you right away; but what number do you want?” she asked; and as Frank looked up from consulting the slender little book that had the names of all the telephone subscribers in the three river towns, he replied:

“Give me 57-L, Bellport, please.”

A minute later she called:

“57-L, Bellport. Here you are!”

“Hello! is this Mr. Lee’s house?” asked Frank, and was immediately electrified by hearing a voice he readily recognized, making reply.

“Yes, who is that talking?”

“Frank Allen, over in Columbia; is that you, Cuthbert?”

“That’s who it is; how are you, Frank; what’s doing in the athletic line?” came over the wire.

“A whole lot, Cuthbert,” Frank replied quickly. “I’m out at our athletic field right now. There are some hundreds here, and a lot of our boys practicing stunts. A bunch of your fellows came over, and are trying to make trouble. They even jeer at Chief Hogg, and defy him to lay a hand on them.”

“Thunder! that’s bad; I never dreamed they’d do such a thing,” came from the astounded boy eight miles away, down in Bellport.

“Unless something is done pretty soon I’m afraid there’s going to be trouble here, and some broken heads,” Frank went on. “And the worst of it all is that such a rumpus will break off all friendly intercourse between the two schools for years, perhaps. Now, I know you have a great influence over the Bellport boys, Cuthbert. They’ll do more for you than any fellow living. Can’t you take your motorcycle, and come over here, licketty-split, and save the day? Please do. It’s the only chance of keeping peace between the two towns.”

“Frank, I’ll come right away!” answered Cuthbert. “I don’t know that I can hold those hotheads in check; but I’m willing to do all I can. So-long!”

Frank went out, hoping that affairs would not reach a crisis before the athletic leader of the Bellport school arrived. He tried to soothe the angry and bitter disputants as best he could, and perhaps the respect they felt for Frank Allen was one reason why some of them did not begin to use their fists or sticks sooner.

The minutes dragged along, and each seemed an hour to Frank. He knew that there could be no holding the boys back much longer, for the insults were growing more and more bitter, and the motions of arms and sticks more menacing.

“Oh! Frank, can’t you do something to separate them before they fight?” asked Minnie, when the boy happened to come close to where a group of girls stood shivering, and looking frightened at the war of words.

“I have done what I could,” replied Frank. “Listen, don’t you hear that popping sound? It’s Cuthbert Lee on his motorcycle. I ’phoned to him over home that he was needed here to prevent a clash, and he’s come on the jump!”

CHAPTER XII
A POPULAR BOY

“Frank, you’re a wonder; and I don’t care who hears me say it!” exclaimed Minnie, as she saw a cloud of dust down the road, with a boy on a motorcycle heading it. “Nobody but you would ever have thought of such a splendid scheme!”

“Well, all I hope, then, is that it works,” replied the boy; “for they’re just ready to take a whack at each other right now.”

He ran toward the noisy crowd, and shouted at the top of his voice:

“Here’s Cuthbert Lee come over to see us, fellows!”

Even the mention of the name of the most popular boy in all Bellport acted as a soothing salve upon the excited minds of the wrangling lads. They drew back just in time to avoid the first blow, which must have precipitated the battle, and been followed by bloody noses and bruised faces. Some of them even began to look ashamed to be caught in such a business as creating bad feeling between the neighboring towns.

Cuthbert Lee was wise enough to know that nothing could be accomplished by accusing his friends of wrongdoing. He began by asking the cause of the trouble, and smoothing things down so ably that in a short time he had the Bellport boys cheering him wildly.

“Don’t let anybody think Bellport has a case of cold feet,” he declared. “We believe we’ve got the athletes to carry off some of those prizes, anyhow, and we’re just going to prove it when the time comes. I’ve watched every arrangement closely, boys, and I give you my solemn word for it, I honestly believe the arrangements have all been made in a spirit of fairness.”

“Hear! hear!” shouted a Columbia boy, beginning to be once more drawn toward the old rivals of Bellport, whom they had cheered wildly many a time after a game had been won or lost, and respected in the past as true sport-lovers.

“Why,” continued Cuthbert, feeling that his case was already as good as won, “at the meeting which I had the honor to attend, the gentleman who offered these fine prizes was very particular to say, time after time, that he wanted the neighboring towns to feel that they had just as good a chance to win as Columbia. He was so broad-minded, fellows, that once our representative had to actually object, and say that Bellport didn’t need to be favored. Does that look like the committee meant to side-track us? I never knew of a fairer arrangement between schools than the one governing this meet. And that’s positive truth, believe me, fellows. You know I wouldn’t deceive you for anything in the world.”

They began to look very foolish now and the Columbia boys were giving Cuthbert Lee a salvo of loud cheers. Such friendly sentiments touched their boyish hearts as nothing else could do.

“Let’s call it off, boys!” cried one Bellport fellow, who had been among the noisiest of the disputants.

“I’m sorry we made the trouble at all!” said another, frankly.

“We’ve been a lot of silly jacks, that’s what!” cried a third; “and for one I’m in favor of asking the pardon of every Columbia High fellow, right here and now. Hear that, Frank Allen? It was all a mistake, and we’re sorry.”

“We hope you’ll forget the unpleasantness, Columbia!”

“And let’s be better friends than ever because of it,” called out Cuthbert Lee. “When we felt the disappointment of defeat on the gridiron or the diamond I tell you it took a lot of the sting out of it to hear fair and square Frank Allen and his crowd giving a bully cheer for Bellport. And, fellows, we can’t afford to show such a nasty little spirit as to believe those honest enemies of last summer and fall could get down low enough to even think of cheating. Who’s with me in giving three and a tiger right now for the boys of Columbia High?”

Well, they were given, and with a roar. Not a single Bellport boy felt that he could afford to hold back when Cuthbert Lee led the shouting. And in five minutes the change in the aspect of things on that athletic field was magical. Instead of keeping together in a crowd, and badgering the workers, the visitors separated, and each fellow seemed to be the center of a group of Columbia students, both boys and girls, as they watched the continuance of the practice games.

Good-natured chaffing had taken the place of jarring remarks intended to cut to the quick. The clouds had rolled away, and a fair sky overhead had succeeded the storm signals.

“That was the brightest thing you ever did, Frank,” remarked Cuthbert Lee, as he stood with a number of others, and chatted together concerning the various contests scheduled for the great athletic meet on the following week.

“One of them, perhaps,” remarked Minnie, proudly; at which there was a general laugh from the boys and girls, and consequently more or less blushing on the part of the pretty speaker.

“I’m glad I had the idea, anyway,” replied Frank; “because it began to look as if there was going to be a riot, sure thing. When boys get warmed up they never mince words; and I heard some pretty strong language used. But it’s ended just as it should, and maybe has drawn the rival schools closer together.”

“I guess they let off all their spare steam, anyhow,” remarked Ralph Langworthy, who had been engaged in some of the sprinting trials, and was showing considerable speed in the hundred-yard dash.

Evidently the news had reached Columbia, for men were constantly arriving at the athletic field. They seemed anxious on coming, but soon discovered that there must be some sort of mistake about the trouble that had been reported imminent; for Columbia and Bellport had never appeared so friendly as just then, and Chief Hogg was telling humorous stories to the keeper of the grounds.

Lanky was very glum as he stood around. Frank could easily guess the cause for this. Dora had stayed down in Columbia over the holiday, instead of going back to the farm; and she was to be seen in the society of the good-looking Walter Ackerman ’most all the morning. Indeed, Frank, seeing her glance quickly toward his chum a number of times, could understand that she was carrying on in this way simply to annoy Lanky. And as he declined to notice her even a little bit, it began to look as though the breach had grown too great to be easily bridged.

“H’m!” said Frank to himself, “it doesn’t look as though Minnie had been very successful in making Dora see how silly she was in quarreling with poor Lanky, after he’s been taking her around everywhere since he met her up on the farm, at the time we saved the house from burning down. I must get her to try again, though. But in cases like this it isn’t much use. Dora is set on snubbing him; and Lanky wouldn’t shake hands with her, when she started to make up.”

Frank and Lanky managed to get together on the trip home, though a bevy of girls walked close by; and Minnie doubtless wondered what important business took Frank from her side even for five minutes.

“If you get a wire, call me up, Lanky, sure,” Frank was saying.

“Will I? Well, you can wager I will, right speedy now,” came the answer. “I need your advice all the time, so’s to keep from makin’ a botched job of this thing. I hope it comes by to-morrow, though, or Saturday.”

“Well, if it don’t, I’ll be disappointed myself,” remarked Frank.

“For one thing,” the other went on, “those gyps aren’t a-goin’ to hang around these diggings forever, you know.”

“Of course not,” agreed Frank.

“They’ll be foldin’ up their tents and silently stealin’ away, as the poem has it,” Lanky continued; “and then where’d I be if I got word, when it was too late, that the lost child did wear that same kind of a little bonnet, with the blue ribbon on it?”

“Perhaps there might be some way to coax them to stay a while longer,” suggested Frank, thoughtfully.

“How, for instance?” questioned Lanky, eagerly.

“Well, they’re sharp enough to know that with a big event coming off, like our athletic meet, a crowd of people will be coming to Columbia; and such a time is always good for horse trading, and such things. I’m going to set the wheels going, so as to make them see this. One camp is just as good as another to them, I guess, and so they’ll be glad to stay over.”

“Well, if you ain’t the greatest hand at gettin’ up schemes I ever knew!” declared Lanky, warmly, as he gripped his chum’s hand and shook it. “Now, why didn’t I think of that plan? A gay old head I’ve got; ain’t worth shucks sometimes. Reckon some people are just about right in shaking such a fellow!” he added, gloomily.

“Cheer up!” said Frank, slapping him on the back. “All this is going to be changed, just as if a wizard touched it with his magic wand. You wait and see what’s going to happen. I just feel it in my bones.”

Lanky did brighten up a little; and then, as he happened to catch sight of that aggravating couple ahead, Dora chattering away like a little magpie, and that handsome curly head of Walter so close to her brown tresses, he gritted his teeth again and lapsed into his former gloomy state.

So Frank went back to Minnie and the laughing group of which the gay girl was the center and the life.

No call came over the wire from Lanky that afternoon or evening, much to Frank’s disappointment. And when he met his chum at school on Wednesday morning, there was a skeptical look on the thin countenance of Lanky that told of “hopes deferred making the heart sick.”

“No use talking,” the other declared, in a disgusted tone, “I’m a regular Jonah nowadays. Never touch a thing but it flops upside-down. Now, if it’d been only you connected with this racket, Frank, chances are you’d ’a’ had a message before now; and the father and mother’d be on their way here. But I’ve just queered the game, that’s what. Everything’s against me, I do believe.”

“Oh! wait a while,” said Frank, encouragingly. “It’s plain that your wire hasn’t reached the gentleman yet; because, if his little girl hasn’t been found you can just believe that he’d seize on any chance to hear news. And when he does get the telegram you’ll know it. If he’s off somewhere, it may be several days before they can reach him; but it will come, Lanky, it’s bound to come. So I say wait, and just hold your horses the best you know how.”

“All right, Frank,” replied Lanky. “I’ll do the best I can; but I’m badgered if I don’t feel sore, the way things are knocking me. But I’m all trimmed for making that long run Saturday; and you and Bones’ll have to hustle if you want to get home anywhere near my time; for I’m going to show somebody something, you understand!”

CHAPTER XIII
ON THE HARRAPIN

Saturday saw quite a big crowd gathered in the afternoon at the athletic field, to witness what they called the “elimination trials.” By this means all who could not take part in the grand meet the following week would be weeded out.

There were plenty of young people present from both Bellport and Clifford; for it was expected that these trial heats would prove almost as interesting as the real thing later on. Of course this was a Columbia day entirely, a sort of home affair, since only local boys could compete.

One event after another was carried out by the judges who were appointed to decide upon the merits of the numerous candidates. Even sack racing was indulged in; and the antics of fat Buster Billings when he strove with might and main to come in ahead of his more nimble rivals afforded great fun. He even started to rolling when unable to get on his feet again after a fall, and might have won, only that this method of making progress was declared barred by those in charge.

Some of the jumping tests were well carried out; and those who watched and figured on the marks made nodded their heads as though satisfied that Columbia had a good chance in this quarter.

The high-jumpers also held a carnival of their own, and brought out loud cheers by their showing; while the pole-vaulters, the shot-putters and hammer-throwers and the short-distance sprinters gave every evidence of being grimly determined not to lose the prizes offered in their departments, if grit and pluck and muscle could win out.

Finally, at four o’clock the long-distance runners lined up; and as this was the last, as well as the most important event, on the program, everybody crowded around to witness the start. There was a lot of cross-fire talk between some of the ambitious aspirants and their friends on the side lines.

Besides Frank, Lanky and Bones Shadduck, the three who were fully expected to carry off the honors, and get tickets to enter the Marathon in the big meet, there were almost a dozen others, who seemed to have hopes of developing into wonders; or else meant to start, just for the fun of the thing.

Since that day in school, when the fire occurred in the basement, nothing had been seen or heard of Bill Klemm and his two cronies, Asa Barnes and Watkins Kline. Asa’s father, the local butcher, had been searching all over the country for his son; but thus far nothing had been heard from him. It was believed that, thinking they must have caused the destruction of the school by fire, the frightened trio of boys were hiding far away, not daring to return home. And among the crowds that gathered on this Saturday, their names were often mentioned, as all sorts of queer theories were advanced to account for their disappearance.

But then, as they were most unpopular boys, no one cared very much about it. And really the games that were being carried out were ten times more worth talking about than the fortunes of such a town bully as Bill Klemm, or his followers, who were trying to walk in the same trail he followed.

It had been determined that since this was only a trial race, with the result really a foregone conclusion, the boys would not have to go over the entire circuit as laid out for the great meet. Instead of ten miles, they would cover just half that distance.

With the crack of the starter’s pistol the long line jumped away. Several ambitious beginners immediately sprinted, and took the lead.

“Look at Ginger Harper, would you?” cried a spectator; “why, he’s a wonder, for a fact. He can run around the rest of that bunch, and not half try. There he goes, grabbin’ off the yards like fun. It’s going to be a procession, with Ginger first!”

“Is it?” remarked Jack Eastwick, with a grin of pity for the ignorance of the shouter, who was a particular friend of the Harper boy, he knew; “maybe so, maybe not.”

Those who knew better saw that the good runners did not start at headlong pace. They held back in a bunch, and were saving their wind. In a run that covers five or ten miles it is the height of folly to make any effort at great speed at the start. By degrees experienced and knowing runners get into their stride, and in this fashion are able to finish strongly. That home stretch to them means everything, and when the crack of the pistol announces that it has been entered, they seem to exhibit all the freshness of those just starting.

So the last of the runners disappeared from sight, and the crowd went back to watch a few more minor events while waiting for the return of the five-mile contestants.

“Pretty near time they began to show up; isn’t it?” asked Jack Comfort, who was well pleased with the showing he had made that day, and fully assured that he would be the one selected to compete for Columbia with the weight-throwing and shot-putting squad.

A shout was heard just then.

“A runner in sight!” passed along the lines, and immediately everything else was neglected, while the crowd formed a long double lane from the outskirts of the field to the tape, which the contestants had to breast in order to have their time taken.

“Who is it? Ginger Harper making it a sweep?” cried one, mockingly.

“Say, Ginger’s been back here these ten minutes and more,” called out another. “He gave out at the first half-mile stone, and came home to see the run-in!”

“It’s Frank Allen!” arose the shout.

“You’re all mistaken, for it’s Lanky Wallace. Don’t you see how tall he is; and aren’t we all of us on to his way of running!” whooped Buster Billings, red in the face with all he had been attempting in various lines.

“Lanky Wallace leads!”

“Three Lankies for cheers!” shrieked Red Huggins, who always managed to get his sentences twisted when excited, and as some of the boys said, “got the cart before the horse.”

“And he’s beat his best time by a whole lot, too!” announced another enthusiast.

Some of the Bellport and Clifford boys were seen comparing watches as Lanky came bounding along with tremendous strides, making for the tape-line, and apparently they were staggered to realize what small chance their athletes had in comparison with this wonder.

“If he kept to the track he’s the best ever!” one fellow said, shaking his head as though he could hardly believe it.

“There’s another runner, and this time it is Frank Allen!”

“With Bones close behind him; and the field out of sight!”

“Oh! some of those fellows will be comin’ in for the next hour!” laughed Buster.

Lanky shot along the double line of shouting admirers, and breasted the tape in gallant style. And had Frank been there to notice, he would have smiled to see how the winner’s first thought was to cast a contemptuous look over to that quarter where pretty little Dora Baxter stood clapping her hands gleefully, just as though for the moment it was forgotten that she and Lanky had ever had a falling out.

Frank was delighted with the wonderful time made by his long-legged chum. Surely Lanky had improved very much since the last time they entered for a long-distance run. And if either of the rival schools could show a better runner, he would have to be a marvel indeed.

Of course the three who were to enter for Columbia were those who had come in first, second and third. The fourth did not arrive for ten minutes or more after Bones Shadduck passed the tape; and when most of the crowd had left the field the others were still showing up—some limping from stone-bruises, and others utterly fagged out from the long grind.

And if five miles could put them in this condition of exhaustion, it was very evident that they could not have a grain of hope of ever getting over the entire course of double that distance.

Lanky had gone to the dressing-room, and soon appeared in his ordinary clothes. He took his honors meekly; indeed, Frank suspected that the boy would really have cared more to hear one girl say a single word of admiration, than to hear scores load him down with praise.

But Dora had gone off with a group, and was not to be seen. Evidently she had rightly interpreted that look of scorn Lanky had thrown toward her at the moment of his triumph, as though to tell her he did not care to see her applauding anything which he might do.

“Hey! Lanky, come and go back with us to town on board the Harrapin Belle!” said Ben Allison, whacking the tall boy between the shoulders as he started off alone.

“Oh! don’t care if I do, Ben,” replied Lanky, never dreaming to what a strange end this trivial incident might lead him; “if your boat isn’t too crowded.”

“Huh! nothing’s too good for you this day, Lanky,” replied the other; “and I’d pitch a few of the others overboard to make room for the boy who’s going to bring victory our way next week. We’re sure proud of the way you covered that five-mile course to-day, and that’s the truth. Here, hook your arm with mine. It’s an honor to be seen walking with you, Lanky, let me tell you.”

“Is it?” queried Lanky, gloomily; “some people don’t think that way, Ben. But I’m wondering if Frank Allen couldn’t have run me a hot race if he wanted.”

“Rats! Frank did the best he could,” retorted Ben. “I heard him say so.”

And so, arguing in this friendly spirit, they finally came to the river, where a number of boats of all sorts lay, having come for the most part from the other towns.

The Harrapin Belle was a big launch that Ben’s father had bought early that season. It had been second-hand, but was in fair condition. More than a dozen boys and girls were going back to town on board, having been invited by generous Ben, and evidently bent on enjoying a little river trip to vary the monotony of things.

Lanky discovered, when it was too late, that Dora and Walter Ackerman were aboard, sitting far up in the bow. He kept away from that quarter studiously; and, as the boat started up the river, busied himself in appearing to be utterly care-free.

They had not gone more than a few hundred yards before the pilot managed to run against some sort of snag, which was unseen above the surface of the water. No particular damage to the boat resulted; but there was quite a little shock. And then came a scream in a voice that seemed familiar to Lanky.

Springing to his feet he dashed toward the bow. The boat was floating with the current now, the power having been turned off. Several of the boys and girls were bending over the side, gazing in alarm at something that was occurring there; and among them Lanky could see Walter Ackerman.

But he failed to discover Dora; and the truth broke upon him that it must be the girl who had once been so dear a friend to him, who had fallen into the river at the time of the collision!

CHAPTER XIV
LANKY FINDS HIS CHANCE

“There she is!”

“Oh! why doesn’t somebody jump overboard, and save her, poor thing?” cried Helen Allen; at the same time clinging to Paul Bird so desperately that he could not have attempted the rescue act, even though inclined that way.

Lanky seized hold of Walter Ackerman.

“She was with you!” he shouted; “why don’t you go in after her?”

The handsome boy never looked as he did then, white in the face, and frightened.

“I would; indeed, I’d do it in a minute—but I can’t swim a stroke!” he gasped.

Without waiting to hear another word Lanky threw him contemptuously aside, “just as he might a sack of oats,” Helen afterwards said, in describing it all to Frank.

One look Lanky cast over the side, as he kicked his shoes off, and sent his jacket flying after them. This showed him a white face in the midst of the water, and, he thought, a pair of hands held out toward him.

Then Lanky jumped.

The Harrapin Belle careened far over on the port side, because everyone aboard had hastened to that quarter, in order to learn what happened. They saw Lanky come to the surface after his dive, and fling the water out of his eyes. Then he struck out for the spot where the girl seemed to be struggling, trying to swim perhaps; for Dora was known to possess that accomplishment, though her skirts bothered her considerably now.

“Hurray! he’s got her!” whooped Ben Allison, in great excitement.

“Bully for our Lanky; he’s just the screamer to-day, though! Won the long run; and now saved the prettiest girl outside of Columbia town!” shouted another boy.

The girls were clapping their hands, and almost wishing that fortune had been kind enough to let them figure in the rôle of a heroine; though the water did look pretty wet, and it was evidently very deep right at this point in the Harrapin.

“We must get them in, fellows!” called Ben, as he gave the signal for the boy at the engine to back the boat down the current.

“Oh! be careful, Ben, and don’t run over them!” begged Helen, as a new fear began to tug at her heart.

“I’ll look out,” came the confident reply, as the boat started slowly to follow the current, and gain on the struggling couple.

But Lanky was not worrying a bit. He had his arm tight around the waist of Dora, and was easily keeping himself afloat, for he was a good swimmer—almost like a duck in the water, his mates used to say.

“Are you all right, Dora?” he asked, wondering whether she had retained her senses through it all.

She clung all the tighter to him, as though that alone ought to answer his question. Perhaps, after it was all over, Dora would treat him just as coldly as ever; but while it lasted Lanky was not “caring whether school kept or not,” as he described it.

They were soon enabled to reach the side of the boat; and as some of the boys above reached down their hands, Dora’s dripping figure was quickly drawn up. But it might have been noticed that the girl studiously avoided touching the hand of Walter Ackerman. He was bound to pay a heavy penalty for never having learned to swim.

“His cake is dough, all right!” was the way Paul Bird expressed it to Helen, after he had seen this aversion on the part of the rescued girl. “And I guess there’s just going to be all peace between Lanky and Dora after this.”

“It’s just wonderful, that’s all I can say!” exclaimed Frank’s young sister. “If it had been a page out of a story it couldn’t have happened nicer. But they’re helping Lanky up now. Oh! isn’t he just dripping, though?”

“But he rather likes it,” Paul went on to say. “Lanky always was a sort of water-dog. I’ve known him to spend the best part of a day in the river. You couldn’t drown him if you tried. See him grin, will you, when he looks at poor Walter, who’s got to take a back seat after this, I reckon.”

“Well, serves him right!” declared Helen. “Every boy ought to know how to swim, if he ever expects a girl to feel confidence in him at all. And I’m so glad that you can, Paul.”

Lanky Wallace no longer looked glum and unhappy. He realized that fortune had beamed upon him that day in a way he could never have dreamed would happen. It was not enough that he should come in far ahead of the field in that long run, beating the best amateur time known in that section of the country for a five-mile race; but now this had come about in the bargain.

Dora was wrapped in a rug they had aboard. Lanky disdained to bother himself about his wet clothes. He managed to get his shoes on, after an effort and covered his shoulders with his jacket. He said he felt as “warm as toast”; and perhaps from the way his heart was pounding away inside, he had good reason for declaring this.

And now, when he caught those dancing eyes of Dora which he used to think were the prettiest and sauciest he had ever seen, he found no reason to scowl, and hasten to avert his gaze, for they sparkled with happiness, and his every glance met a smile.

Finally, before they reached town, he saw Dora beckoning imperiously to him; just as in those old days before the quarrel, Lanky jumped to obey.

She held out her little hand, and he clasped it eagerly.

“I’m going with Helen to dry my clothes,” the girl said in a low tone, “and if you could come for me in about half an hour in some sort of a vehicle, Lanky, I’d be ever so much obliged to you to take me up home.”

“Will I? Well, I guess yes, and glad in the bargain, Dora,” he replied, with a happy look that told her the bitterness had all gone out of his heart.

“You’ll forgive me being so unkind to you; won’t you, Lanky?” she continued, as Helen very considerately turned away.

“Never mention it again to me, Dora. I want to forget we ever had a falling out,” the boy went on, rapidly.

“And we’re going to be friends again, then, good friends like we used to be?” she continued, gladness in her voice.

“Better than ever—that is, if you care to have me take you around, instead of him,” Lanky replied suggestively, and her pretty face took on a very scornful look as she went on:

“Him! Oh! I despise him now, too much for me to tell you. I never did care so much for him, Lanky, and was only trying to make you believe I did. But to think of him willing to see me drown there! Oh! the coward! I never, never mean to even speak to him again!”

“Well,” said Lanky, feeling a little compunction in his generous heart toward the unlucky object of this girlish disdain; “p’raps he isn’t to blame so much after all, because he says he can’t swim even a little bit; and if that’s so, you know he couldn’t ’a’ helped you a whit, even if he had jumped over.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she persisted, girl-like; “if he’d been real brave, like some boys I know, he’d have jumped in, anyway. Why, I might have saved him then, don’t you see, Lanky? Mr. Walter Ackerman had better go and take lessons in swimming before he expects any Columbia girl to be his company again. They all know him now.”

Lanky looked at her a little queerly. He was in reality wondering whether, after all, the plucky girl might not have been pretending to be in greater peril than was actually the case, after finding herself dumped into the river, just to see which one of her boy friends would do the life-saving act. But he never knew whether there was any truth in this far-fetched idea or not.

Although Lanky Wallace had won considerable renown that day by reason of his leading the string of long-distance runners, and by such remarkable time, he seemed to think more of the fact that he was expected to get a rig, and take Dora to the farm of her parents, quite a number of miles north of Columbia, where the Harrapin became almost like a creek.

Lanky could look back to pleasant days spent at that same farm. And yet he really believed that he had never contemplated visiting the Baxter home with more lively anticipations of pleasure than on this occasion.

Promptly at the time appointed he drove up to the Allen house with a horse and buggy. That it was not a thoroughbred Lanky privately admitted to Frank, when the other joked him on the appearance of the steed.

“That’s all right,” he said in Frank’s ear; “takes longer to get there. Some people, when they’ve got a good thing, don’t know how to string it out. I do. That’s why I declined the use of a horse that could go a mile in three minutes. Why, honest now, Frank, this nag’s so steady that the livery man said a one-armed boy could drive him.”

No doubt, on the long ride up to the farm a full explanation and reconciliation took place between Lanky and Dora. He only too gladly forgave her when she pleaded that she was only a silly little girl, but that she had learned a lesson; and they agreed to be as good friends as ever.

It must have been fully midnight when Lanky drove that “very steady” horse at a pretty swift pace back into town, and the way the animal covered the ground on the return journey might have surprised Dora, could she have known of his performance.

And Lanky had good reason to feel rather well satisfied with the events of that Saturday, which must always be marked with a white stone in his history.

There was now only one more thing on his mind—the clearing of the mystery concerning the identity of the little child in the gypsy camp. No word had as yet come from the party to whom he had sent that long message, costing himself and his chum more than three dollars. In another week the great athletic meet was to take place.

“Well,” mused Lanky, as he prepared to go to bed in the small hours of Sunday morning, after returning the rig to the livery stable where it had been procured; “I hope something will turn up before the gypsies move away. I’d hate to spend all that coin for nothing; and never know whether I was a smart guesser, or just a simple fool, for thinking that baby girl could be the long-lost Effie Elverson. P’raps I’m due for another little streak of luck. They say it always hunts in threes. But, as Frank tells me, I mustn’t worry. This business came out jolly well; and p’raps the other may. Wow! but I’m sleepy, though, and that bed looks fine. So it is good-night for me.”

CHAPTER XV
AN ACCIDENT BETRAYS RUFUS

“I guess yesterday was your big day, all right, Lanky!”

Frank laughed as he made this remark. It was Sunday afternoon, and he was taking a little stroll with his chum, “just to show the natives that they were as fresh as daisies after that five-mile Marathon yesterday,” as Lanky put it.

“Well, it did come pretty thick and fast, for a fact,” admitted the one for whom the remark was intended. “But my mother had pity on me, and let me sleep late this fine Sunday morning. Just got up in time to dress, have my breakfast, and then go to church.”

“I’m sorry I missed that little affair on the river,” Frank went on. “From all the accounts I heard, it must have been a great time.”

“It sure was a dandy picnic, Frank,” admitted the other, without hesitation, and drawing in a long breath, as imagination once more transported him back to the moment when he held Dora up with his right arm, and used the left to keep both of them afloat.

“And you went all the way up to the Baxter farm afterwards, they say, Lanky?”

“Oh! it isn’t so very far,” remonstrated the other. “The river makes a lot of turns, you know; and when a fellow is skating, it seems longer than when you’re in a buggy, on the main road, alongside a girl, and there’s just heaps to be explained.”

“That’s right, Lanky, it does,” replied Frank, with a knowing look. “And I reckon it was all explained, too, long before you got to the Baxter place?”

“Smooth sailing from this on, Frank,” the other quickly retorted. “You see, when poor old Walter, with all his good looks, had to own up that he couldn’t swim a little bit, with Dora in the river a-waitin’ for somebody to do the rescue act, even if she can swim better’n any girl around Columbia, it just made her disgusted with such a poor stick. Anyhow, she told me she never had cared much for him, and was goin’ home from choir meetin’s with Walter just because she was mean, and wanted to hurt me. But it’s all right now, Frank; and I guess we’re better friends than ever before.”

“Well, that’s going some,” remarked Frank, knowingly. “But, Lanky, how in the wide world did you put on such an immense amount of steam in the last half mile? Why, I saw in a jiffy that I was a back number yesterday, and there was no use of a fellow trying to head you off. You went like the wind, I tell you. Give me the secret, if you don’t mind. It might come handy in the big, long run.”

“Shucks! it’s nothin’, after all,” replied Lanky. “I just kept thinkin’ of her, and how sorry she’d feel that our friendship was busted, when she saw me come in first, and heard everybody yelling. And she was, Frank, she admitted that to me. Why, she even couldn’t help jumpin’ up, and clappin’ her little hands, forgettin’ right then that there had ever been a wide gulf come between us. But it’s all right now, Frank, and there’s no such silly spat goin’ to happen any more. We both promised that.”

“Well, I’m glad that Walter has become a back number,” Frank observed; “because I knew you were worrying a lot about losing such a good little friend as Dora. You always did think a heap of her, right from the start. Remember the time that tramp set their farmhouse afire, after robbing them; and when we were skating up that way we had a roaring time putting out the blaze?”

“That was sure a screaming old time, Frank; I think of it often, and how pretty Dora did look, with her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.”

“Hold on, let’s change the subject,” broke in Frank, with a laugh. “I suppose now, you’re beginning to think your wire went astray, and that we’ll never hear from that Mr. Elverson?”

Lanky sobered up instantly.

“Say, three and a quarter gone up the flume, Frank,” he remarked, shrugging his shoulders in an expressive way. “Not that I’m carin’ so much for the hard cash, if only it ended in somethin’. But it comes in too slow to be just thrown away like that.”

“Wait,” said Frank, as he had done before; “the game isn’t over yet, by a long sight, Lanky. Sooner or later that message is just bound to catch up with Mr. Elverson; and if he hasn’t found his little Effie yet, it’ll bring an answer as fast as he can get it on the wires.”

“But the gypsies’ll sure vamoose long before that!” expostulated Lanky.

“Let ’em go,” Frank went on, as though he did not mean to worry over such a little thing. “Between us we ought to be able to find out some way to keep tabs on the tribe, no matter where they wander. And once we hear from the gentleman, if he hasn’t found his girl, and she did wear such a baby bonnet as you described, why, it’ll be easy to get on a train, and go to the town near where they’re camped right then.”

“Of course it will, Frank,” Lanky admitted, brightening up like magic. “There never was a chum like you to see ahead. The fog can’t get so thick but what you manage to punch a hole in it, and glimpse light on the other side. Why, of course we can do what you say. It’s easy as fallin’ off a log.”

“Then stop bothering your head about it, Lanky.”

“Guess I will,” answered the tall boy, resolutely.

“I told you that other business would come out all right, sooner or later; didn’t I?” Frank demanded.

“That’s straight goods, Frank.”

“And it did, you noticed, Lanky?”

“It sure did,” was the candid admission of the other; “but see here, Frank, with all your smartness, I don’t reckon you ever dreamed it’d happen the way it did, now?”

“Well, I should say not,” returned Frank, highly amused. “Why, I never even had the slightest idea that you meant to go back to town aboard that old tub of Ben Allison’s; or that a certain young lady would be a passenger, too. And as to expecting Ben to steer into a sunken snag, and knock Dora overboard, why, who’d ever dream of such a thing? And it all worked out as fine as silk for you. But you seem to be wanting to turn off the main road here, and take that one leading to Budd’s Corners?”

“I see you’re onto me, all right,” confessed Lanky. “Fact is, Frank, since we’re out for a little walk, I thought it wouldn’t matter much if so be we turned in the direction of the gypsy camp.”

“Oh! I’m willing enough, if you promise me you won’t go to prowling around when we strike there, so as to make the men folks notice us. Remember, Lanky, once we give that sharp old queen any reason to believe we’ve got an interest in what she’s got hidden away in that wagon, the game’s up.”

“I hold up my hand and promise you to be careful,” the tall boy returned, as he went through the performance. “But looky there what’s comin’ along back of us like a house afire!”

“Only a boy on a bike, but he’s whooping it up rather fast,” Frank admitted, as he turned his head to look.

“Say, I know that feller, all right,” Lanky declared, as the boy on the wheel rapidly drew nearer to where they stood on the narrow road.

“Seems to me there’s something familiar about him, too,” said Frank. “His name is Rufus, isn’t it, Lanky?”

“Right the first guess—Rufus Kline.”

“Wasn’t that the name of one of Bill Klemm’s cronies—Watkins Kline?” continued Frank, still observing the approaching boy on the wheel.

“Yep; and they say his mother is nigh crazy because nobody’s seen a sign of any of that crowd since they skipped out, after the schoolhouse fire,” Lanky went on to say.

“Looks like Rufus must have been sent on an errand this fine Sunday afternoon,” Frank next remarked; “because I notice that he’s got something of a bundle tied to the handle-bars of his wheel. It’s clumsy enough to make him wobble more than a little as he rides, too.”

“Huh! that surprises me some, too,” Lanky remarked, as he stood there, watching the boy, who was now rapidly drawing nearer to them, and appeared to be wondering whether the two meant to stand aside and let him pass, or hold him up; in fact his actions seemed to indicate that Rufus was bothered not a little.

“Why should it?” demanded Frank, always ready to learn facts when he could.

“You see,” his chum hastily replied, “Mrs. Kline is a very religious woman, which makes it all the more queer why she lets her boy go with such fellers as Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes. Now, I never’d ’a’ believed she’d sent Rufus on an errand, and carryin’ a package like that, on a Sunday.”

“Oh! you never can tell,” replied Frank. “Perhaps he’s taking something to a sick woman friend of hers. There are lots of times when rules have to be broken, I reckon. But you don’t think of holding him up, just to ask; do you, Lanky?”

“I thought I’d inquire, Frank, just from curiosity, you see,” with a grin. “They say women-folks have all the curiosity there is, but I notice that boys—yes, and men, too—seem to have their share.”

“Hey! get off the road there, and let me past!” called out Rufus, slackening his speed somewhat, and looking bothered.

“Where you goin’ this fine Sunday afternoon, Rufus, and carryin’ that big package, too?” demanded Lanky. “Don’t you dare run me down, or somethin’ll happen right quick, understand. Keep off, now, I tell you!”

Something did happen, and just as speedily as Lanky had prophesied. Rufus, in his eagerness to slip by, made a miscalculation; and being also unbalanced by the sudden swinging of the large bundle hanging from his handle-bars, he slipped off the road into the shallow ditch that ran alongside.

As a natural consequence, boy and wheel came down with a crash.

“Oh! that’s too bad, Lanky; you’ve made him take a header!” exclaimed Frank. “I hope he isn’t hurt!”

Rufus was struggling to regain his feet, feeling of his left leg at the same time, and apparently hardly knowing whether to cry or get angry. He finally compromised by whimpering.

“See what you did, Lanky Wallace, by bein’ mean, and wantin’ to take the whole road?” he exclaimed, for Rufus was red-haired, and had a temper, too, in the bargain.

Lanky stepped over to the wheel, and began to lift it out of the ditch. Perhaps he was already sorry for interfering with the lone rider. It had really been none of his business where the younger Kline boy happened to be going on his bicycle. The fact that it was Sunday, and Rufus had a strict mother, who would not on ordinary occasions allow him to use his wheel on that day, might have excited Lanky’s curiosity, but it was no excuse for him to crowd the boy off the road.

“I oughtn’t to have done it, Rufus,” Lanky spoke up, with evident contrition in his voice and manner; “it was sure none of my business where you happened to be meanderin’ this Sunday afternoon. The road is free to everybody, gypsy as well as citizens of Columbia. Here’s your wheel; and outside of this bent handle-bar it doesn’t look like there was any damage done. I can straighten that in a jiffy.”

This he proceeded to do, after hauling the bicycle up on the road again.

“Frank,” he added, immediately afterward, “will you pick up that bundle, and tie it on again to the handle-bar after I get it a little straighter? It went flyin’ when the wheel slipped on the road, and took a flop.”

But Rufus sprang forward, and snatched the package out of Frank’s hands. There was almost a fierceness in his manner, that surprised the other very much.

“Don’t you dare meddle with my things, Frank Allen!” he cried. “Guess I can tie it up again myself, without any of your help. Next time you fellers better keep to one side, and let a wheel go past without blocking the road. It’s pretty small potatoes to have two big fellers pick on one little boy!”

“That’s right, Rufus; and I’m ashamed of myself for botherin’ you,” admitted Lanky; “there you are; and nobody’d ever know that handle-bar had been twisted. It’s weak, anyway, and I reckon this isn’t the first time she’s bent on you. Want me to give you a send-off, Rufus?”

“Naw!” snapped the boy, crossly; “just let me be; and as soon as I’ve got this package of clothin’ my maw’s sendin’ to a sick woman, tied up again, I’ll be all right. I’d thank you to keep away. I might ’a’ broke my neck takin’ that header.”

He quickly fastened the recovered package to the front of the wheel, and mounting from the rear, was off along the road. Lanky looked queerly at Frank.

“That was a silly thing for me to do,” he said. “I ought to be ashamed of myself to bother a smaller fellow. That curiosity is a terrible business, Frank. But looky here, what ails you?”

“I was thinking, that’s all, Lanky. An idea seemed to just jump into my mind. You noticed how he didn’t want me to tie up that bundle; didn’t you?”

“Why, yes, he was some touchy, that’s a fact,” answered the other, slowly, as if unable to understand what Frank was driving at.

“I saw something of what it contained; and Lanky, a sick woman might want the loaf of bread, wedge of cake and the other food; but tell me, what would she care for boy’s trousers made of corduroy, like the pair I’ve seen Watkins Kline wear on Saturdays, when he was off playing?”

Lanky stared all the harder, but the truth began to seep into his brain.

“Tell me about that!” he exclaimed. “I see what you mean now, Frank; Rufus is taking supplies to his brother, who is hiding somewhere in the woods with Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes! And he didn’t want us to know it.”

CHAPTER XVI
LANKY BECOMES A “BARKER”

“That’s what I was thinking, Lanky,” Frank remarked, smiling at the excited appearance of his lengthy chum, who had never fully mastered the secret of controlling his emotions.

“Well, now, if that don’t just beat the Dutch!” exclaimed the other, as if almost too amazed to express himself properly. “And Frank, I don’t believe either of us would ’a’ got on to the curves of Rufus, if it hadn’t been for the accident he met with, that broke open his bundle.”

“You’re right there, Lanky,” answered Frank, nodding his head in the affirmative.

“The boys are hiding out somewhere in the woods, afraid to come home,” went on the tall boy, with a wide grin; “here days have passed, and yet they haven’t showed up. Most people are shakin’ hands with themselves, and sayin’ it’s a good riddance of bad rubbish; but their folks are worryin’ some, Frank. It’s low-down mean of Watkins Kline to scare his mother so bad. She never would believe he was bad, you know.”

“I wonder what’s up, and why they hang out there all this while?” Frank mused.

“Tell you what I think,” remarked his companion, with a wise look; “I reckon it’s all Bill Klemm’s doings.”

“What makes you say that, Lanky?”

“Why he daren’t come back, you see, till it blows over,” Lanky went on. “They lay it all to Bill, and there was a lot of talk about havin’ him sent off to the reform school. Ten to one Bill’s got wind of that, and he’s bound to hang out till the people of Columbia forget the worst of it. Then some fine day he’ll show up in his old haunts; and ’cept for a ripple of talk, it won’t be noticed.”

“I guess you’ve hit the nail on the head, Lanky,” Frank continued, approvingly. “And not wanting to stay out in the woods all alone, Bill has put the screws on Asa and Watkins, keeping them for company.”

“That’s the talk, Frank, as sure as you’re born. P’raps they calculate to drop in next Wednesday, when the whole place is wild with interest in the athletic contests; and nobody’ll have time to bother any about such small fry as three boys who’ve been makin’ trouble at school.”

The two had been walking swiftly along while chatting in this manner; and were drawing near the crossroads known far and wide as Budd’s Corners, because Tom Budd’s father owned most of the property round about that section.

It was here the gypsy tribe camped, year after year. Their appearance always created considerable of a stir through the country. Men visited the camp to talk horse gossip with the knowing male members of the tribe. Women sometimes accompanied them, on the pretense of “just looking around,” and finding out how these nomads lived; but secretly in the hope that a chance might arise whereby they could get their fortune told by someone connected with the tribe, possibly the queen herself.

There were a few couples in sight, even then, coming from or heading toward the gypsy camp. The boys were glad to see this. It would serve to keep any of the gypsies from suspecting that their visit had any particular meaning.

“What do you suppose that crowd is standin’ there for, gapin’ at somethin’ fastened to that tree yonder?” Lanky asked, as they drew near the spot where the gay wagons, and the tents of the road wanderers, could be seen among the trees.

“Looks like they might be reading some notice; and there are a number of gypsies in the lot, too,” Frank replied.

“Shucks! I know,” exclaimed the other, suddenly.

“I think I’ve guessed it, too,” Frank went on to say. “I remember that bill-poster said he had a few more notices of the meet to stick up; and the chances are he’s been along here in his buggy. Pudge Watkins wouldn’t stop because it was Sunday. You never saw him at church in your life.”

“That’s what!” echoed Lanky. “And looks like the gyps might be some stuck on that colored show-bill, too, Frank. Hope they like it well enough to figure on staying around this section till after the athletic stunts have been pulled off.”

“Suppose we stop here a bit, and listen to what they say?” suggested Frank.

“I’ll go you on that idea,” replied Lanky. “It may put us wise about what they mean to do.”

Accordingly the two lads drew in toward the group that stood in front of the placard tacked to the tree, where it could be easily seen from the road. Just as both of them had guessed, it was one of the posters gotten up by the wide-awake committee of arrangements, telling in glowing language of the splendid program that had been made up for the coming Wednesday afternoon.

Of course the boys had read it many times before. Indeed, they knew about the whole thing from beginning to end. And yet, as both their names occurred among the numerous entries for the prizes about to be competed for, it was only natural that they should be pleased to stand there, and listen to the various comments.

Some of the gypsy men were curious about the nature of the affair. Evidently they had never been given the privilege of witnessing such a tournament; and feeling a certain amount of interest in things that pertained to manly sports, they were even then trying to get additional information by “pumping” an old farmer, who, with his wife and three small children, happened to be sitting in a wagon near by.

As he turned out to be almost as unfamiliar with the nature of the meet as the road-roamers themselves, their success was not very flattering. A couple of very small town boys who had wandered out that way endeavored to supply the lack of knowledge, but did not seem to be making much progress when Frank and Lanky came along.

Some of the gypsy men turned to the new arrivals with a list of questions, and Lanky was only too willing to answer to the best of his ability.

“Greatest thing that you ever saw, or will see, if you live a thousand years,” he went on, in a way that made Frank smile, thinking that his chum might get an engagement as a “barker” for some side show to a circus. “Yes, sir, there will be the greatest crowd in and around Columbia that was ever known. You’ll be mighty sorry to miss it, I tell you. And the farmers who want to trade horses, they always just flock to these athletic meets. I reckon anybody could do more business in that line in two days, than a week at other times.”

Frank saw some of the gypsies look at each other and nod, as though they rather fancied the idea. Business with them was already the first consideration. They may have thought that they had about exhausted the horse trade around the immediate vicinity of Columbia; but if farmers for a radius of twenty miles and more would be in town with their vehicles on that wonderful occasion, well, that certainly put another face on the matter.

“It’s working, Lanky,” Frank managed to say in a low tone to his chum. “Keep it up, and you’ll get the whole lot to see things your way.”

“Huh! takes your Uncle Lanky to do the grand chinning act,” muttered the tall boy, proudly. “I can soft-soap to beat the band, when I want to. Got ’em started on the right track; and now I’ll just say a few more words to clinch things.”

Some of the gypsies, after talking between themselves, started to ask questions; and as these applied to the actual events that were scheduled to take place, Frank felt that he could take it upon himself to answer as well as his comrade.

He described some of the competitions that seemed to puzzle the nomads, as shot-putting, throwing the hammer, hurdle racing, sack racing, and such things so familiar to all schoolboys in these days.

The group grew around the two boys. Others of the campers began to be drawn to the spot, as the two lads continued to talk and explain things. Presently even a few of the women wandered that way; and the children were already clustered in knots, listening, nodding their black locks, and looking wise from time to time, as if what was Greek to their elders might not be so unfamiliar to them.

Lanky was very much in earnest. He did not feel that the success of the athletic meet depended at all upon whether the gypsies voted to remain over a few more days or not; but he did believe that the carrying out of the plans he and Frank had arranged would be affected by this decision.

By degrees the men seemed to be impressed with the brilliant chance that opened up before them for doing a land-office business in horse trading with the army of “hoosiers” who Lanky declared would flock to the meet, many of them remaining over in town several days to do their summer shopping, thus killing two birds with one stone.

“I’ve got ’em on the jump, Frank,” he whispered to his chum, as he saw the group of men excitedly discussing something that seemed to be of considerable importance. “They’re set on stayin’ over, you see. Looky, there goes a bunch back to camp; and I’m thinkin’ they’re going to see the queen, to put the thing up to her. Hope now she listens to ’em, and says stay.”

A few minutes later the same men came hurrying back.

“No use askin’ what they did, Frank,” remarked Lanky, exultantly; “just take a peep at their grinning faces; doesn’t that tell the story?”

“I reckon you’re right, Lanky,” admitted the other, readily enough.

“That means they stay right here; doesn’t it, Frank? They’ll be on hand if that telegram only happens to come along to-morrow, Tuesday or Wednesday. Hope it gets a hustle on by then. If it doesn’t, I’ll give the game up as a bad job, and call myself a poor detective, who couldn’t detect a clue as big as Squire Perkins’ new barn.”

“Well, the way you ran this little dodge, and tempted the men to stay over, tells me you’re going to do better things right soon!” declared Frank.

“Do you really believe that?” demanded the other, who was always glad to hear Frank praise him.

“I certainly do, Lanky. And what you’ve done right here is no little job. It gives you the extension of time you wanted, and holds the gates wide open.”

“They’re going to stay, Frank!” said Lanky in a low tone, after listening to what those who had just come from the camp said to their comrades still clustered near the tree bearing the flaming placard. “Three days’ grace, Frank. Isn’t that just bully for us, though? Sure that telegram must get here before all that time slips past. Say, our folks might read us a lecture if they saw us here, blowing our horns about the grand athletic tournament; but, Frank, when I just remember what we’re doing it all for, I don’t feel that it’s wrong. I’d go still further to help——” but his chum held up a finger, and gave a significant warning hiss, to cut his impetuous exclamation short.

CHAPTER XVII
THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE

“Unless you want to queer the whole business, Lanky, you’ve got to hold yourself in check better,” Frank said, cautiously, making sure that none of the gypsy men was close enough to hear him whisper in this fashion.

“That’s right,” muttered the other, in a penitent fashion. “I’m always forgettin’ and blurtin’ things out. And it’s sure lucky for me I’ve got you handy to put me wise to things. I’ll try and chuck it from now on, Frank, believe me, I will.”

“Then laugh right now, and don’t look as sober as if you’d got word your great-grandfather’d died, and forgot you in his will,” Frank went on to say, jokingly. “Because I can see someone watching us from the big wagon of the queen, right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s spotted us as the two boys who were in the camp that other time, and means to keep tabs on us.”

“Oh! I’ll be on my guard, I promise you, Frank,” Lanky went on to say, with his teeth tightly clenched. “It’s a shame to upset all our fine work by a mistake on my part. But do we turn away now; or hang around the camp a little, to see if we can’t get a peep at that girl?”

“Might as well stay here a while,” was the reply his chum made. “It’d look sort of queer if we pushed along in too big a hurry. What we want to do is to act natural, and do what any fellow would be apt to, if he just happened along.”

So they walked over to the camp. Most of the gypsies had returned by now. After being so familiar with the two boys, and receiving such important information from them, they seemed to look at Frank and Lanky in rather a friendly way. The boys might wander all about now, and see whatever they wanted, without being greeted by the usual black scowls.

“Say, Frank,” remarked Lanky, presently, as they were watching some of the women hang a black kettle over a fire by means of a chain, that had a hook at one end, the other being secured to a stout iron bar above.

“Well, what is it now?” asked his companion, without turning his head, as he found himself very much interested in the operation.

“She’s beckonin’ to us!” Lanky continued, in a somewhat awed voice.

“Who do you mean?” asked Frank, beginning to take notice.

“The old lady, the queen bee of the hive, you know,” replied the other.

At that Frank turned his head.

“That’s right, she is,” he remarked; “and we’ll have to step over that way, Lanky. Now, keep your wits about you, and don’t give yourself away. Like as not she only wants to ask us some questions about the athletic meet.”

They started toward the place where the old queen sat on a three-legged stool, close to the steps leading up to the rear of the huge, painted van that served as her house, as well as means of conveyance over the roads.

Lanky felt sure he would now find some sort of opportunity for proving whether his belief about the little girl could be founded on facts, or imagination. At the same time he was inwardly resolved to let Frank do most of the talking, content on his own part to just “look around.”

“You are the boy who brought me the paper to sign; am I right?” asked the gypsy queen, as Frank reached her side.

“Yes, we were here the other day, and brought that paper,” he replied.

“My men have been telling me much about some sort of circus that will be in your town this week; and they said you could explain what it was?” she continued, keeping her sharp black eyes fastened on their faces.

“Why, yes, sure we can,” Lanky spoke up. “Frank, oblige the lady; I’m talked out.”

So Frank did explain about the rivalries of the three schools, and how they came together at various times to find out which could excel in all sorts of sports such as healthy boys like.

He described these things so well that he really interested the gypsy woman. She could understand how boys liked such sports, for the lads of the camp were always wrestling, boxing, shooting, or fishing, as the chance arose.

Lanky could not keep his eyes away from the big wagon. It seemed to him that he heard some sort of slight movement within the van; and no doubt he was picturing in his mind the frightened, yet eager, little girl crouching there, wanting to show herself to them, yet shrinking from arousing the anger of the black-eyed old queen.

“Your friend seems to be interested in my new wagon,” remarked the gypsy, suddenly, and Lanky started, fearing that he had betrayed a fatal curiosity; but he drew a breath of relief when she continued, using language that surprised Frank, as it told him the woman must have a certain amount of education: “If you would like, I will be glad to show you how it is arranged inside. It is what they call the last thing in road wagons. And you have been kind to tell my people about the chance of trading horses in the crowd that is coming to the circus.”

Frank saw her eyes sparkle while she was saying this. He immediately guessed that she had a very good reason for talking in that way, though he could not understand what it might be.

“If you don’t mind,” he remarked, showing a fair amount of eagerness, “we would like to see how it is fixed inside. I’ve never really examined one of these road wagons, and always wanted to.”

“Come inside with me, then, both of you,” continued the queen, rising from her stool, and starting up the three steps leading to the closed door.

Frank heard Lanky draw a long breath. He laid a hand on the other’s arm as they started after the gypsy woman; and Lanky understood that this was meant for a warning to him.

“All right, Frank,” he muttered, calming down again.

When the door of the big van had been opened, the interior was exposed to view. And the first thing the two lads discovered was a girl of about eight or nine years of age, sitting curled up on a cushion. She had big dark eyes, and hair that was almost purplish black. Her skin was as dusky as that of any of the men.

“This is my grandchild,” explained the old woman, with something like pride in her voice, for the girl was decidedly handsome, though very bold looking. “When I die she will be the queen after me. It is understood by the tribe. She comes of royal blood, does Mena.”

Then she began to explain what the many appliances were for, that they saw in the wagon. The girl seemed to understand that she had better go away while the old queen was telling these two town boys about her new van, for she left the vehicle.

Lanky followed her with his eyes. Frank could see a puzzled expression on the face of his chum, and that he was shaking his head, as though unable to make out how he had come to mistake a girl like that for a little thing begging for his assistance.

Evidently Lanky’s ambition had dropped until it was now very near the zero mark.

Frank was genuinely interested in all the wonderful arrangements which the new traveling van had for sleeping, cooking, and even writing; though a gypsy is not supposed to do much of this last.

He asked numerous questions, just as the men had done when seeking information concerning the coming athletic contests. And the old woman did not seem at all averse about telling him whatever he wanted to know.

Frank, however, was not so wrapped up in his desire to learn facts but what he could use his eyes to good advantage. And he noticed that several times while she was thus explaining things, the old gypsy would shoot a triumphant glance over in the direction of Lanky.

Apparently she must have guessed something of the motive that influenced that Columbia High student to wander out to the camp on this Sunday afternoon. And no doubt she was chuckling to herself over her success in hoodwinking Lanky. His blank face gave her satisfaction, Frank felt sure. And he believed he knew the reason for it, too.

After spending at least fifteen minutes in the big van talking with the owner, who seemed much more intelligent than Frank had ever believed any gypsy could be, the boys made a move as if to go.

“Will you come again?” she asked, seeming to direct the query toward Lanky; and that worthy took it upon himself to reply.

“I hardly think so. You see, we’re in the big run that winds up the meet, and after school we’ll have to be practicing, so as to keep in condition. Besides,” with a sigh, “I guess we’ve seen everything now.”

Lanky was plainly much disheartened as he started to leave the gypsy camp. He even failed to answer the parting remarks from several of the men, who seemed to rather look upon the two boys in the light of friends, after receiving so much information that promised to be valuable to them as horse traders. And so Frank had to wave a good-bye for both of them.

They walked down the road side by side, heading toward the town. Lanky appeared to be wrapped up in his gloomy thoughts, and presently Frank gave him a sly punch in the ribs, bringing out a grunt.

“What ails you, old chum?” demanded Frank, in a joking tone. “You pull a long enough face to stand for seven first-class funerals.”

“It’s all off, Frank!” grumbled the other.

“Oh! you mean the little racket you were working; is that what makes you look so sad?” demanded Frank.

“I was foolish and that’s the trouble!” said Lanky savagely.

“Well, I don’t like to dispute a gentleman’s word, when he’s bent on giving an opinion of himself; but I’d like to know why you say that?” Frank remarked.

“To think that I’d mistake that half-grown gypsy girl for a little one has me badgered some, I tell you, Frank.”

“Perhaps after all, Lanky, you didn’t make such a big mistake as you think!”

“What’s that you’re giving me, Frank; not taffy, I hope?” cried the tall boy, as he whirled around on his companion, eagerly.

“There may have been a small child in that wagon, Lanky, when we first came near the gypsy camp. I didn’t tell you before; but the fact is, I sure saw the old woman hustle some little figure, bundled in a red shawl, down those three steps, and then another gypsy woman lead her off into the woods!”

“Oh! Frank, is that so?” burst from the delighted Lanky, his eyes sparkling once more with renewed interest. “You saw all that, did you, when we were talking with the gypsy men? Aren’t you the swift bunch, though, to get on to everything, while I stand around with my mouth open, but my eyes stuck fast? Then she sent the little girl away, and asked us to take a look around in her wagon just to pull the wool over my eyes? And, Frank, she’d ’a’ done it for me, right up to the notch, only for you being so smart!”

CHAPTER XVIII
FINDING OUT

Lanky was once more himself. The look of gloom had vanished from his thin face, and he turned an eager glance on his comrade.

“I’ve been thinking,” Frank went on, slowly, as he sometimes did when he was trying to grasp an idea, “that we ought to do something to settle this business about whether there really is a little child in the charge of the old queen, or not.”

“Hear! hear!” burst out the other, pretending to clap his hands.

“If it turns out that there isn’t any such thing as the child you believed tried to attract your attention, then the sooner we give up all this foolishness, why, the better; you understand, Lanky?”

“But if there is such a little girlie, Frank?”

“We’ll stay in the game, make sure of that,” replied the other, in a determined tone that told Lanky what he might expect.

“Oh! I agree with you all right, about that, Frank,” he observed; “but the question is, how under the sun can we do it? That sly old queen knows how to slip the child away every time we happen to be seen coming around the camp.”

“Well, we must make out not to be seen, then, next time,” was the matter-of-fact way Frank put it.

“Do you mean we’ll sneak back, and see what’s goin’ on, right now; sorter creep up through the bushes, Injun fashion, and peep, unbeknown to any of the gypsies? Tell me, is that what’s got you, Frank?”

“Well no, hardly that, Lanky,” replied the other. “In the first place it’s getting kind of late, and I promised to be home by five, sharp. Then, though perhaps you haven’t noticed it, there’s a gypsy boy trailing us right now. No, don’t turn around and look, because that would tell him we knew all about his following us. Wait till we get to that bend, and then you can see without showing that you’re bothering your head about him.”

“Wow! that’s what I call going some, Frank,” remarked Lanky, presently.

“You saw him then; didn’t you?” asked the leader of the boys.

“Right you are; and he’s certain sure follerin’ us, to see that we don’t play a double game, and sneak back in the direction of the camp,” was Lanky’s admission.

“And you can understand that a boy wouldn’t be up to any such trick unless some other person had told him to do it?” Frank continued, with convincing force.

“That must mean she did it,” Lanky admitted.

“The old queen, and no other. So, you see, we couldn’t turn back now without her knowing about it; and that would give the alarm. Why, by to-morrow morning these same gypsies would be miles away on the road to nowhere; and it’d be the hardest kind of business getting on the track of them again.”

“Well, when can we come back?” asked Lanky; “to-morrow afternoon?”

“For one, I don’t feel like waiting that long,” the other declared.

“Say, could we try it to-night, Frank?” asked Lanky, eagerly.

“I’m willing to come,” replied his companion; “if your folks will let you out. Look over here to the right, and you’ll see a little rise of ground. And, Lanky, if a fellow sat on top of that, with a pair of field glasses in his hands, what would hinder him from seeing everything that happened in the camp?”

“There’s a clear line between, as sure as anything,” admitted the other.

“And if they have their fires going, as they generally do in the early evening, why, the glass would work O. K. I’ve looked through it at the moon, and Jupiter, Venus and that crowd of worlds in the night sky. Is it a go, Lanky?”

“Put her there, Frank,” replied Lanky, thrusting out a hand with a boy’s impetuosity. “Why, I’d back you up, no matter what sort of a harum-scarum scheme you gave me. But this isn’t anything like that; I consider that it’s the boss idea. Why, we can crawl up there and just watch for keeps, without a single gyp bein’ any the wiser. Call it a go, Frank!”

“Then that’s settled, and I’ll meet you at the big elm at, say, seven,” Frank proposed. “It doesn’t get real dark till after eight nowadays, you know; and we’ll have plenty of time to wander up this road.”

Lanky was greatly pleased over the new development. Coming on the tail of his recent gloom, it was all the more acceptable to him. When he later on parted company with his chum, his last words were:

“Don’t fail to be there at seven sharp, Frank! It’d knock me into flinders if you didn’t show up. I’d be tempted to come alone, and make the try, though chances are I’d only turn it into a foozle by my clumsiness.”

“You can depend on me,” was what the other said, positively.

Frank would have liked to take his father fully into his confidence, and get his sanction for the strange little errand that was about to occupy the time of himself and Lanky that night. But it happened that Mr. Allen had stayed at the house of a friend whom he had been visiting that afternoon; and Frank’s mother was lying down, with a headache; so it seemed that even had he wanted to, he could not have taken either of his parents into his secret just then.

A little before seven he went out, without anyone paying any particular attention to his action. Possibly the mother supposed Frank was going to church, for he and Lanky both sang in the volunteer choir.

But the boy really believed he had good reasons for absenting himself from his regular seat in the organ loft that night. And under his coat he carried the field glasses which he had spoken of to his chum.

Lanky was waiting for him, and kicking his heels against the base of the big tree that had been appointed as a place of meeting.

“Gee! aren’t you late, Frank?” he asked, a little pettishly.

Just then the church clock boomed out the hour of seven, as if saving Frank the trouble of making a reply.

“I reckon I’ve been here half an hour, and countin’ the minutes,” admitted Lanky, candidly, as they started off on a brisk walk.

Evening was just coming on, and there were some clouds covering the heavens as the sun went down, which gave Lanky new cause for anxiety. He would not be happy a single day if things went too smoothly.

“Reckon now there’s a storm just wantin’ to sail along this way, to upset all our calculations about Wednesday,” he grumbled.

“Oh! I guess not,” Frank tried to console him by saying; “weather reports say dry weather and warmer for the whole eastern half of the country for the first three days of the week, beginning to-morrow. I looked it up this morning. Forget it, and let’s think only of what we’re trying to do right now.”

When they saw anyone approaching they stepped into the nearby woods, and let the other pass by. Perhaps this looked a little suspicious, but then Frank was afraid that one of the gypsy men might happen that way, and hurry back with a report that was apt to create some little excitement in the queen’s van.

“Aren’t we gettin’ pretty near that little rise, Frank?” asked Lanky, when they had been making progress for some time.

“Be there in five minutes or so,” was the confident reply; for Frank had the happy faculty of taking note of distances, by objects to be seen along the way; and as a rule he was able to tell to a fraction just where he was, when going over a route he had traversed before.

He turned out to be a true prophet, too; for about the time that limit had expired Lanky remarked in a thrilling whisper:

“I can see the rise right now, Frank; we’d better turn off the road, too, because there’s somebody coming with a rig. It might be one of those jockeys from the camp.”

Frank hastened to comply with the suggestion, and they were soon making their way through the woods that led up to the bare mound, which the boys had selected as a place for making their observation.

They crept along with extreme caution, because the camp was not far off, and both of them feared lest a gypsy man might be wandering around about that time, and would discover them unless they used unusual care.

Presently they ascended the little rise.

“Say, this is a good place to see from, all right,” commented Lanky.

Frank, instead of replying, was starting to focus the field glasses on the camp of the nomads, plainly seen through the open lane. Although night had by this time fallen fully, several fires were burning in the camp, and these lighted up the entire place where the wagons and tents were.

The gypsies were either moving about, or else sitting near the fires, evidently eating their supper. Lanky almost held his breath while Frank looked.

“See anything of her?” he asked, finally, unable to hold out longer.

“Take a chance, and see for yourself,” was the reply, as the glasses were thrust into his hands; and there was a note of satisfaction in Frank’s voice that gave the other a thrill.

He quickly held the ends of the twin tubes to his eyes, and ten seconds later Frank heard him chuckle, as though greatly pleased.

“She’s there, Frank, sure as you’re born!” Lanky ejaculated.

“Softly, now, old fellow,” warned Frank.

“You saw her; of course you did, Frank?” continued the tall boy, quivering with delight. “She’s eating beside that girl we met—Mena, the queen called her. There, the old woman is scolding her, Frank! I can see her shaking a finger at the child, and I believe the little thing’s crying, too.”

“What happened?” asked Frank.

“The old queen leaned over and slapped the little thing twice right on her ear. She’s pointin’ up at the wagon right now; and, yes, siree, the girl climbs in, as if she was afraid to stay outside any longer. Frank, that settles it; doesn’t it? The girl is there, we know that now; don’t we?”

For answer Frank clutched his chum’s groping hand, and squeezed it.

“And we keep right along in the game, waitin’ to hear from Mr. Elverson; don’t we, Frank?”

“That’s what we do; and I’m hoping that it comes out just as you’re expecting, Lanky, because you sure have got yourself keyed up to top-notch speed right now. But perhaps we’d better be getting back to town. If we hurried, we might reach there by eight, and lend a hand at that anthem in the choir.”

“Oh! I’m willing, all right, Frank,” declared the now light-hearted Lanky; “we just hit the right nail on the head when we came out here, and spied on that camp. Poor little thing! Say, that old woman’s got a temper, all right; and I reckon that child ought to be taken away from her, even if she doesn’t prove to be the long-lost Effie Elverson. Come on, Frank, let’s run a little along the road.”

CHAPTER XIX
THE GREAT DAY

It was Wednesday at last.

Time had dragged fearfully to all the young people in Columbia; and doubtless the same could be said of Clifford and Bellport, during those last two days of school.

The annual examinations would soon be coming on, so that it was just as well that the great athletic meet should be carried through before this period of stress.

And it was a glorious day, too, with a clear sky, and not too hot for the strenuous work which those young athletes expected to engage in.

All morning vehicles kept coming into the town of Columbia, some of them from great distances, and containing entire families. The former meetings of the three rival schools in various contests had resulted in such thrilling scenes that their fame had gone far afield; consequently farmers hitched up, and gave the entire day to merry-making with their families.

As afternoon came along the crowds began to flock out along the road leading to the field where Columbia always held these events. As has been stated before, this was about a mile from town, and somewhat down the river, the trolley from Bellport, which was being extended to Clifford at the time, leaving loads of eager spectators at a point near the grounds.

An hour before the time set for the start of the exercises it seemed as though every seat in the grand-stand was taken; and even the bleachers had overflowed into the field. Apparently the day would see such a throng as Columbia had never before drawn together in all her history.

Young athletes were as plentiful as blackberries in August. They could be seen here, there, and everywhere; some exercising to keep in trim for the coming of the event in which they expected to take part; others conferring with the coach, or chatting with groups of admiring friends.

It was a poor contestant who did not have at least a few devoted adherents, who declared it to be their honest opinion that he was bound to make all the others in the same event “look like thirty cents,” as they were fond of putting it.

Lanky was the center of a great deal of attention. After his phenomenal run of the trial day, he was looked upon as the one best hope of Columbia in the long race, which some of the boys called a Marathon, though it could be hardly classed under that head.

Of course they still had faith in Frank Allen and Bones Shadduck, either one of whom they believed could win in case any unlucky accident happened that would cripple the long-legged racer, who looked like a greyhound as he stepped so lightly around among his fellow students.

Clifford and Bellport had their legions present. They seemed to mass together as a rule, so that they might make the most noise, and thus encourage their respective candidates for high honors.

The noise began to be deafening, what with boys yelling; horns tooting; girls singing their class songs; and automobiles honking merrily, as they came in shoals, to leave their passengers or secure positions where the latter could sit still, and see all that was going on.

Chief Hogg was there, and looking spick and span in a new uniform, with his silver shield glittering as splendidly as a newly polished decoration could appear. He had his assistants all in line; and in addition there were a dozen deputy sheriffs sworn in for the occasion by the high official who graced the meet with his presence.

Once upon a time there had been nearly a riot come about at one of these athletic affairs, caused by some turbulent spirits; and the committee in charge had determined to leave no stone unturned on this occasion to prevent a recurrence of that sad event, when several heads were broken by flying stones.

Roderick Seymour, who was said to have been the best leader Columbia ever had, was taking charge of things on this particular day, having come home from the city, where he was in business, especially to see Columbia boys once more show their mettle, and to hear again that slogan:

“Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! veni! vidi! vici! we came, we saw, we conquered! Columbia! Rah!”

Ah! how it must have thrilled that graduate, as he listened again to it pealing from the throats of the score or two of boys whom the cheer captain, Herman Hooker, was leading in the concerted shout! What memories it must have awakened in the mind of Roderick Seymour, who during his four years in the school had always held the respect of every boy worth knowing, as a lover of clean sport, and of a square deal. It was surely worth coming two hundred miles just to see such inspiring sights, and listen to that battle cry of Columbia as she again faced her bitter rivals of Bellport and Clifford, always eager to make her athletes take their dust.

“Hello! Frank!” was the way Lanky greeted his chum, whom he had not seen that day up to the minute they met.

“You’re feeling pretty perky, I reckon, Lanky,” remarked the other, smiling as he saw the look of confidence upon the thin face of the tall runner.

“Never felt better in my life, Frank; and if I fall down to-day I ought to quit trying the long-distance act. But, Frank, if you happen to run across a messenger boy who looks like he was huntin’ somebody, just remember me; won’t you?”

“What’s up?” questioned Frank, laughing at the earnest air of his friend.

“Why, you see, I just got a hunch that there might a telegram come for me while the meet was takin’ place,” Lanky explained; “and so I told Conrad at the station that if so be anything came buzzing along the wires, meant for Lanky Wallace, he ought to send a messenger down here on the jump with it.”

“And did he promise he would?” asked Frank.

“Huh! he just had to,” grunted Lanky. “Why, right now there isn’t a feller in all Columbia that’d dare deny me anything I wanted. Conrad said he’s bound to do it, because he’s been and heard that like as not I’m goin’ to be the one that’ll win the long-distance run; and somehow they all think that, Frank, just because I had that little spurt the other day, you know.”

“Well,” said Frank, impressively, “just you see that you have another of the same kind to-day; and make those people from Bellport and Clifford take notice. They’ve made a lot of changes in their runners from last season, and think they’ve got it in for poor old Columbia. That’s the way they talk, Lanky; but some of the boys were here to see you come in Saturday, and they know better.”

“Yes, I hear that Coddling, their old pitcher in Bellport, has blossomed out something in the phenom class as a long-distance runner; and I guess, Frank, that we’ll have to keep an eye on that tricky old scout more’n anybody else.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. There’s a new fellow up in Clifford that they say never gets tired, and can come in from a ten-mile skip without hardly a hair turned. That may be just talk, or as you say, hot air; but, Lanky, don’t be over-confident. It’s all well enough to be sure you can win; but never let up in your pace because you think you’ve got the thing cinched. A swift runner may dash past you in a second, and after that it’s up to you to get him! because he sets the pace, not you.”

“Frank, it’s mighty good of you giving me these pointers, and you going to be a runner in the long race, too.”

“Oh! whether I win, or you, or Bones, makes little difference to me, so long as the Columbia purple and gold crosses the line first. That’s what we call school loyalty, you know, Lanky. Of course it’s always fine to be the one to get all the cheer, but first of all the school! But there goes the head man of the committee climbing the band stand. The music’s stopped, so I reckon the games are going to begin pretty quick now.”

After the great throng could be quieted down, the heavy voice of the gentleman who had agreed to serve as the head of the arrangements committee started to address the thousands gathered in that field devoted to boys’ sports.

As briefly as possible he explained what clean athletic games would do for the maintenance of health in the bodies of those engaging in them up to a reasonable limit; and also what grand times the three schools had had in the past. He congratulated the people of the towns lying along the Harrapin that there had been so little unpleasant friction in the past; and expressed the hope that the present meeting of their representative young athletes would further cement the bonds of good fellowship among the boys of Columbia, Clifford and Bellport.

After the hearty cheers had subsided he started again to tell of the various contests that had been arranged, as well as to mention a list of prizes donated by the leading merchants of the three places, and which would be awarded to the winners in the numerous events.

Then the first contest was called, and immediately everybody in that great throng became intensely interested.

It was a fifty-yard dash; and there were just nine contestants; since the limit had been placed at three for each school.

In this tournament it had been wisely decided to let each contest stand on its own merits. There were just seventeen events, and as each would count just one point, the school winning a plurality of these prizes would be adjudged the grand champion for the season in track and field athletics.

In this way even the absurd sack race would count just as much as the ten-mile run. But what was fair for one was fair for all, and there was no grumbling because of these arrangements.

As their event was scheduled to come off at the very last of the meet, Frank and Larry could take things easy, while waiting for the time to arrive when the long-distance race would be called.

“Have you noticed that quite a lot of our dark-faced friends of the gypsy camp are present?” Lanky asked his chum, as they stood waiting for the crack of the pistol which would send the sprinters on their furious rush over the short distance that had been marked out for them.

“Yes, and I saw a couple talking with a farmer,” replied Frank, laughing. “Guess they’ve got a dicker on with him, from the way they acted. Say, they’ll be glad they took your advice, and held over here. Perhaps they’ll do the biggest day’s business ever. Look at that Clifford football snapback, will you? They say he’s winged lightning on the short dash; and I want to see if it’s so.”

“Well, the referee is gettin’ ready to send the bunch off, so keep your good eye peeled on him then; because if he can go that fast, we might lose sight of him altogether. Wow! they’re off, Frank! That was a great start, I tell you!”

CHAPTER XX
CLIFFORD’S NEW HOPE

Almost before some of the crowd knew it had begun, the fifty-yard dash was over. Coddling had won!

“White Wings just flew the coop, and landed the first prize!” whooped a wild Clifford enthusiast, as he jumped up and down in his excitement.

“And we’ve got a few surprises like Coddling up our sleeve, Columbia!” cried a second proud student, who wore the colors of the down-river school.

“He did carry it off, sure as anything!” remarked Lanky, feeling a little discouraged. “And I thought our man, Paul Bird, had a sure thing.”

“Paul entered in the wrong class there,” remarked Frank. “Just wait till you see him run in the hundred-yard race, and the quarter-mile. They’ve got them so scattered that he can rest up good, between each one. Didn’t you notice that while the Clifford fellow went like the wind at first, Paul was cutting down his lead in great shape when they crossed the line?”

“That’s a fact, Frank,” admitted Lanky.

“If that race had been twice as far, Paul would have had him easily beaten. Well, let Clifford roar all she wants, right now; perhaps the poor thing won’t have another chance to whoop it up all day.”

“She generally does get it in the neck, somehow, before the end comes,” admitted Lanky. “There never was such luck, the Clifford boys say. But, all the same, Frank, they are talking loud about what they’re going to do to us in that long run.”

“They’re welcome to say what they please,” the other remarked, calmly. “Talk is cheap, and boasting hurts no one but those who carry it to excess. The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof. We’ll talk less, and do something, Lanky.”

“That’s the stuff, fellows!” cried a Columbia boy who happened to be passing, and caught the last few words of what Frank said.

“There comes the new Clifford runner, who’s going to make us look like thirty cents, they say. What’s his name, Frank; did you notice it on the program?” Lanky asked.

“Larry Parker,” Frank replied; “and I rather think he’s coming right over now to take a look at the three Columbia fellows who will be against him in that race. Of course he’s heard a heap about your doings on Saturday; and he means to size you up. We’ll have to be agreeable to him, remember, Lanky. This is our ground, and to-day Clifford and Bellport are our guests.”

“Sure thing,” muttered the tall lad, eyeing the approaching runner; who had a large “C” on his sleeveless shirt to indicate to which school he belonged, just as if the colors he sported would not do that.

Evidently Larry Parker was somewhat of a breezy sort, for he came up to the two Columbia boys, whom he had never met before, and extended his hand.

“Hello! fellows!” he exclaimed. “I’m told that this is Frank Allen, and Lanky Wallace, two of Columbia’s star long-distance runners. And as I’m entered in that little jaunt myself this afternoon, with a few foolish Clifford boys thinking I’ve got a fighting chance to win, thought I’d like to know you a little, before I see the last of you over my shoulder.”

There was a cool assurance about the fellow that impressed Frank against him. It was not that he felt the utmost confidence in himself, for that is no crime; but he acted as though treating the others with disdain.

Frank did not like the face he saw. There was a sly, crafty expression on it, he believed. To his mind, then, this new Clifford hope, Larry Parker, would not hesitate about descending to trickery, if by means of it he might increase his chances for winning his race. The means did not count in such a fellow’s mind, only what lay at the end. And in this case the handsome prize offered was a gold watch, surely worth exerting one’s very best powers in the hope of winning.

Another thing Frank noticed, for he was quick to discover little items that might stand for a great deal.

“Um! a cigarette smoker, eh?” was what he said to himself, as he saw that the first and second fingers of the other’s hand were stained yellow; and Frank knew just what that meant. “Chances are, that if he’s a good runner now, he won’t be a year from to-day. And I’d like to wager a good deal that he falls down in the last part of this ten-mile race. So this is the chap who never turns a hair after he’s clipped off his cool ten, is it? I guess he won’t win against a clean fellow like Lanky, with no bad habits to weaken him for the strain.”

Frank knew that Larry Parker had only come across from the Clifford benches to size them up at close quarters. He was doubtless trying to discover some signs of weakness about them. Besides, it might pay him to know two of the contestants before the race was called.

He stood there, and chatted for a little while, laughing at some of the accidents that accompanied the next few events. One fellow from Bellport, who tried to beat Jack Comfort’s throw of the weight, forgot to let go; and was whirled around like a teetotum, or a dancing dervish as seen over in Northern Africa. They took him off the field with a dislocated shoulder, so that he needed the attention of a doctor.

Frank did not like the way Larry Parker seemed to enjoy a thing like this. On his part he felt genuinely sorry for the poor chap; but the Clifford newcomer looked on it as extremely funny.

Watching his hands after this, Frank noticed that they seemed to tremble constantly, which was a rather strange thing in a mere lad.

“That’s what they say excessive cigarette smoking will do for a fellow, Lanky,” he managed to whisper in the ear of his chum a little later on; for be it told, Lanky at several times had been known to indulge in a smoke of the “coffin nail,” as he scoffingly called it. “Watch his hands, and see them flutter. It acts on his heart. If he keeps it up, a year from now he’ll never be able to run at all.”

Lanky gave a grunt, and turned a little red; but immediately looked away. It was apparently more satisfactory to turn his eyes toward that corner of the stand where a certain little rosy-cheeked girl sat, waving her Columbia flag every time he looked that way. And doubtless the sight of Dora Baxter inspired Lanky with more and more determination to do himself proud on this day.

Presently the wiry-looking Clifford athlete betook himself off, apparently satisfied with his view of his two rivals at close quarters.

“What do you think of him, Frank?” asked Lanky. “Is he the great wonder they say, and do we need to fear him?”

“He’s got all the points of a good runner in his make-up,” replied Frank. “To tell the truth, he makes me think of some of the Indian long-distance runners whose pictures I’ve got at home—Longboat in particular. Yes, if that fellow let tobacco alone, and paid attention to himself, I rather think he’d look at the bunch of us over his shoulder as he led the procession all along the ten miles.”

“But he does use cigarettes; I saw his stained fingers,” Lanky went on; “and do you expect that is going to hurt his chances?”

“I don’t doubt it any more than I doubt my eyes when I see you in front of me,” Frank went on, earnestly. “And another thing, Lanky, I must say I don’t admire his face very much.”

“Why, what’s the matter with it, Frank? Now, all things considered, I was sayin’ to myself that he’s a heap handsomer than Lanky Wallace ever can be.”

“Oh! well, we’re not talking about good looks now, you know,” laughed Frank. “Anybody could take just one glance at your face, and know that he’d be able to trust you to the limit. But, Lanky, there was something that I think bordered on treachery and cunning in his shifty eyes, and the sneer on his face.”

“Whew! that’s layin’ it on pretty thick, Frank!”

“I wouldn’t think of saying it to a living soul, only you; and I do it now because I honestly believe that fellow would be mean enough to do something to disable you, if he saw that you were going to pass him, and no one seemed to be looking. He would stick out his foot, and trip you, hoping you’d strain an ankle in the tumble, and have to give up.”

“Great governor! you don’t say so, Frank!” ejaculated Lanky; “but he might know I’d tell it on him after I did limp in!”

“And he’d claim that it was entirely unintentional on his part—that he slipped, and came near falling himself, when he tripped you. All I want to remark is this, Lanky; keep your eye on him, and look out for a trick, if you do start to go ahead of him. That fellow believes in the rule or ruin policy, if ever it was written on a boy’s face. But see, here comes the sack race; it ought to be funny enough to make us forget all our troubles.”

The crowd was in a mood for something comical; and if sack races are properly conducted, they afford plenty of fun; except for some of the unfortunate participants who in falling manage to skin their noses.

As the sacks had been secured from a regular sporting goods house in the city they were made substantially, and doubly reinforced at the bottom. Being tied around the necks of the contestants there was no possible way in which they could make use of their arms in order to block a stumble, or save themselves in the event of a fall.

At the signal they all started hopping or wriggling along in such manner as each bagged contestant thought would best advance his interests. And soon the vast crowd was shrieking with laughter to see the comical sight, as each lad made the most desperate efforts to get ahead.

“Almost down to the last event, Lanky,” said Bones Shadduck, an hour later, crossing over to where a number of the Columbia boys stood clustered around Frank and the tall boy.

“If Bellport takes this pole vault, as I’m afraid she will,” declared Buster Billings, dejectedly, “the score will stand a tie between Columbia and Bellport, with seven wins apiece, and two for Clifford. That means you’ve just got to come in ahead of the Bellport runners, Lanky, Frank or Bones. Oh! please get wings on your feet, and don’t let those Bellport crowds go through Columbia this afternoon, shouting and howling like crazy Indians, because they’ve licked us at last!”

“Well, here goes the pole vaulting contest,” remarked another Columbia student; “and Captain Lee looks fit to jump over a two-story house. He’s bound to beat our man, Ginger Harper, hand over fist.”

His words turned out to be the truth, for Cuthbert Lee easily beat the best record that either of his contestants could hang up. This made the excitement intense; for as the nine long-distance runners came slowly to the scratch, everybody realized that the score was tied between Bellport and Columbia, just as it used to be in a tight baseball game. And if one of their entries won this last match, the long run, it would mean victory for his school!

And knowing this, the runners themselves were nerved to do their level best when they drew up in a line, and began to get ready to jump at the crack of the pistol.

CHAPTER XXI
WHAT HAPPENED TO BONES

Crack!

It seemed to the mass of spectators, craning their necks to see what took place, as though that whole line of lithe runners sprang forward as one.

Every fellow doubtless had his favorite way of waiting for the signal; though a quick start is of far less importance in a long run of ten miles than when the race is a short dash. Some crouched in all sorts of weird attitudes, doubtless assumed for effect; but several simply stood with the body bent for the plunge.

“They’re off!” shrieked hundreds of voices, as the nine boys were seen to speed away like the wind.

Eager eyes followed their every move, for everything depended on the result of this race; that is, with Bellport and Columbia. If Clifford won, why the other two schools would of course be simply tied for honors; and must have another test at some later date. This would be a bad thing all around, since the tension under which the pupils would continue to labor must affect their ability to pass the annual examinations with credit.

Many became anxious because the new wonder from Clifford, Larry Parker, had shot into the lead, and seemed capable of increasing the distance between himself and his competitors at will.

“It’s a walkaway!” whooped the Clifford boys; for if they could only pull off the most important event of the great day, that victory would go far toward healing the wounds caused by the poor showing of their athletes in other contests.

But very few Columbia fellows were anxious at this early stage in the race. They knew only too well that ten miles was a long distance to cover, and all sorts of things could happen before the goal was in sight.

“Frank and Lanky and Bones make a team that is simply unbeatable!” they continued to say, one to another, as the last of the nine runners vanished from view up the road in the distance.

“Yes,” others would add, “don’t we know the tactics of Frank Allen to a dot? You never would catch him letting himself out in the start of a grilling ten-mile run, like that new fellow does. He works up to it by degrees, and the result is at the last quarter he feels fresh, while the sprinter is all in. And the other fellows have been ordered to do the same as Frank. Just wait! The one that shouts last, shouts loudest. We’re holding our wind for the end!”

As time would hang heavy while the runners were away, and in order to amuse the great crowd, the management had arranged to have several spirited contests for additional prizes. But although these were full of go and spirit, and evoked considerable enthusiasm when decided, it was plain that the throng thought only of the runners coursing over the country roads, and who in good time would begin to show up.

The course was in the form of a great loop, though both the start and the wind-up of the race followed a single track for half a mile. And when the returning runners struck this neck of the bottle on the return trip, the discharge of a small cannon would announce that the home stretch had been entered, when everyone was supposed to exert himself to the limit of endurance.

But as our interest lies almost entirely with the runners, it is only right that we should follow them in their long race.

Frank and Lanky had managed to keep pretty well together during the first few miles. Their position was something like midway; for while there were several of the contestants ahead of them, others were in the rear.

Bones had been unable to restrain his eagerness, and chased after the two leaders—Parker for Clifford, and Coddling for Bellport. Just back of the other two Columbia entries ran Wentworth, that sturdy Clifford fellow, who had always worked so hard on diamond and gridiron for the honor of his school. Then, not far back of him came Mallory and Keating, two new Bellport “wonders,” who failed in the pinch to get even a showing. Far in the rear trailed Atkins, the third Clifford contestant, who seemed either gone “stale” from overtraining, or else was having trouble with his shoes, for he had stopped twice to do something.

That was the way the runners were spread out when the three-mile mark was passed. Now and then Frank could catch a glimpse of those who were ahead. He wanted to make sure Parker did not gain such a tremendous lead that he could not be overhauled later on.

Lanky was fretting some, as usual. He seemed like a mettlesome horse chafing because of the restraining bit.

“Frank, say the word, and let’s pick up a bit!” he complained.

“Just a little, then,” was the reply the other made.

The fewer words that passed between them the better, for breath was valuable. And it was more to quiet Lanky than because he believed there was as yet any need of shortening the distance between the leaders and themselves, that Frank gave in so readily.

Two of the racers seemed to be running neck and neck. They bore the Clifford and Columbia colors, which would indicate that Bones must have made a grand spurt, and overtaken the leader. Perhaps he would not rest content with that, but try to pass Larry Parker before the five-mile mark had been reached.

Already the pace had become so grinding that several at the tail-end of the procession had dropped out. Atkins had given up, and Keating was seen wobbling when a stretch of straight road allowed Frank to look back. The other fellows were still booming steadily along, grimly hoping that if they kept within striking distance, fortune might favor them by some accident to the leaders, when they might jump in and win.

All at once, as Frank, side by side with tall Lanky, broke around a bend of the road, they discovered a lone figure seated by the wayside, and evidently nursing a sprained ankle.

Frank saw with more or less dismay that the figure wore the well-known Columbia colors. He knew to a certainty then that it must be their chum, Bones Shadduck, who had met with an accident.

And it was perhaps not strange that just then Frank should remember what he had said to Lanky as a warning, with regard to Larry Parker, in case he ever found himself in a position to pass the new Clifford wonder.

“It’s Bones!” Frank snapped out between his teeth; for it is no easy thing for a fellow who has been running speedily over four miles to talk while continuing to rush on.

“Oh! poor old Bones, he’s in the soup!” grunted Lanky; and it could be seen that he was genuinely sorry to know the third Columbia contestant had been thrown out of the race by an accident.

“Looks like he’d sprained his ankle!” remarked Frank, as they bore down on the spot where Bones sat, hugging his left leg with both hands.

He looked up as they approached. The expression of intense pain on his face gave way momentarily to one of concern. It was the school spirit conquering mere physical distress.

He made quick motions with his hand, at the same time shouting ere they had gained a point abreast of where he lay:

“Go on! Don’t you dare stop a second for me! I’m all right! Sprained my ankle in the queerest way ever, just when I was passing Parker. Stone must have rolled out from under his foot, and right in my way! It made me stumble, and down I came ker-flop! Go on! Beat ’em both out! You can do it! Columbia forever! Oh!”

The last was an exclamation of acute pain. Evidently the patriotic Bones, in endeavoring to wave his hand above his head as he cheered, had given his sprained ankle a new wrench, causing him to nearly shriek aloud.

Frank was almost tempted to stop then and there; but he knew that a sprain, while painful enough, was not dangerous. And one of the fellows far in the rear, who had no chance whatever to win the race, would undoubtedly give poor old Bones a helping hand to some nearby house where he could get a rig to carry him home.

At the same time, upon hearing those significant words uttered by the injured Columbia student, he and Lanky exchanged looks.

It seemed almost impossible that even a tricky fellow, such as Larry Parker appeared to be, could manipulate things so that he might throw a competitor out of the race in this remarkable way. And yet if it were really an accident, then Frank would be forced to believe that Parker must have been born under a lucky star indeed.

“S’pose he did the trick, Frank?” asked Lanky, showing that he too was wrestling over the possibility of such a thing.

“Not unless he’d practiced it a hundred times,” replied Frank. “But it shows you what might happen when you’re trying to get ahead of Parker. Look out for him, and give him a wide berth, Lanky, when you pass him!”

“Huh! how about you?” grunted the other.

“Same here, if I get the chance,” was all Frank said in reply.

Then they lapsed into utter silence again. Talking might be all very well when out for a spin, just to get exercise; but it is the height of folly when pushing along at full speed in a race, with over five miles still to be run.

They had picked up some on the leaders. Parker and Coddling were not so very far ahead now. Most of the time they could see the two boys, and were thus able to gauge the distance separating them. Lanky showed an inclination to cut down the gap still more, and Frank had to humor him a little; for he saw that his chum was able to make a burst of speed that would overcome anything possible from that pair in the van, when the right time arrived.

Now and then people along the road cheered them; but none of these shouts gave the young Columbia athletes one-half the inspiration that the agonized cry of the injured Bones did, when he urged them to leave him there, and hurry on to win the grand race, for the honor of Columbia.

Now the five-mile mark had been turned, and they were once more circling, with the intention of heading for home.

It was time, Lanky undoubtedly thought, that something were done to oust those two persistent runners from their hold of first and second place. And as for Frank, he knew that the impetuous one could not be much longer held in leash.

CHAPTER XXII
COLUMBIA’S LAST CHANCE

On the run out they had been heading almost due west, with the sun shining directly in their eyes. Now that the turn had been made, they had it easier; for they were no longer half blinded by that glare.

The railroad was not so very far off but that a train passing at one place, the passengers leaned out of the windows waving hankerchiefs, and shouting words of cheer. For everybody loves a boy athlete, and seems to be drawn to utter strangers, when coming upon them unexpectedly.

Frank had already made up his mind on several matters. One was that he did not feel his best somehow, on this important day; and that if it all depended on him, there was a strong possibility that either Clifford or Bellport would land the prize, and carry off that gold watch.

This might have worried him considerably at another time, but it did not now; for he had been keeping a watchful eye on his running mate, and realized that Lanky was in fit shape for the greatest effort of his life.

Barring accidents, Frank really believed the long-legged fellow could overtake the leaders inside of a quarter of a mile, no matter how desperately they strove to maintain their present advantage.

He was content that it should be so. And in times to come he would never envy Lanky that splendid timepiece, which was to be the reward of his pluck and running ability.

Still, he deemed it wise to hold back as much as he could, and not allow this impetuous comrade his head. Letting the two who led the run set the pace, was the wisest thing that could be done. They were apt to vie with each other in little spurts that were calculated to exhaust their vim; while those behind could continue to push steadily along in a grinding, irresistible way, always keeping a certain amount of reserve speed on tap for an emergency.

It was about this time that the runners entered upon the gloomiest part of the entire course. Frank remembered the stretch of dense woods full well. He had even hunted for gray squirrels here, more than a few times; though as a rule the boys of Columbia seldom came this way, when the river offered them such a field for most of their sports, summer and winter.

The trees were of unusual size, and grew so thickly that there was always an aspect of gloom hanging over the district. It had rather a bad name, too, on account of a peddler having met with his death here years back; and though the authorities had done their duty as well as possible, the tramp who undoubtedly was responsible for the forest tragedy had never been apprehended.

Still, there did not seem to be any chance for even a schemer such as Frank believed Larry Parker to be to play any trick upon his opponents. He could not slacken his own pace; and it was altogether unlikely that he would influence any Clifford comrade to lie in wait, so as to trip the runners, or in some other way bring them to a stop.

Besides, just then Parker was in the lead, and could not know what a surprise was in store for him when Lanky Wallace broke loose. He seemed to have only the wily Bellport runner, Coddling, to fear. And that fellow was too smart, Frank believed, to give his rival any chance to come in contact with him.

Four miles more to run!

How slowly time seemed to pass! Why, it was as though an age had elapsed since the pistol cracked that sent the contestants flying like the wind on their way.

“Can’t we go a little faster, Frank?” Lanky asked, as they struck the big woods; and the look he turned on his chum was more expressive than even his words.

Frank shook his head in the negative. Knowing the impulsive nature of the tall Columbia student, Roderick Seymour in the beginning had given Lanky to understand that he must govern his actions by those of Frank Allen. If the other gave him the word to let himself out at any time, then he could start on his own responsibility. For it was understood before the race started, that the contestants of each school could assist one another by advice, or in any other legitimate way, while endeavoring to land the prize.

A minute later Lanky suddenly cried out; and it gave Frank a shock, for he instantly conceived the thought that his running mate must have wrenched an ankle, and that would put him out of the running.

“What is it?” he gasped.

“Look ahead, at the side of the road!” answered the other, between his set teeth.

Frank did so, and immediately echoed Lanky’s cry.

“Another fellow put out of the race, just like Bones was!” he exclaimed, feeling that this time it certainly could not have been an accident that had disabled the second rival of Larry Parker.

But the sharp eyes of Lanky had made an additional discovery. It was not any too bright there under those great trees; but Lanky was noted for his keen eyesight.

“It isn’t Coddling at all!” he called out, as he ran on.

“That’s a fact; because he’s dressed in regular clothes; but it’s a boy, and he acts like he was suffering like anything!” Frank went on, slackening his pace just a little as they drew nearer the recumbent figure.

Just then the boy who had been lying there like one nearly dead, heard the sound of their voices, likely enough; at any rate, he lifted his head, and seeing them, made a desperate effort to scramble to his feet.

The first thing Frank saw was that one of his legs seemed utterly helpless. Then he felt a thrill of horror, for he discovered that blood was trickling down, as though the wound might be most severe.

“Wow! it’s Bill Klemm!” burst from Lanky, who had been staring at the pained face of the boy.

The fellow immediately stretched out both hands toward the runners, and called to them in a weak voice that quite wrung Frank’s heart.

“Fellers, get help fur me, quick! I’ve nigh bled to death. Fell out of a high tree, and broke my leg, I ’spect. Oh! the bone come through, and it keeps on bleedin’ to beat the band! Please don’t leave me like them other fellers did. I’ll die, sure I will. Oh! it’s terrible, the pain! Frank, Lanky, help me!”

The two long-distance runners stopped short. The lure of that golden prize was for the moment utterly forgotten by both of them. Here was a boy whom they had never liked, and who was known as the latest scapegrace of the town. Even then he was hiding from justice, fearing punishment because of that fire at the high-school building, which was laid at his door.

But for all that he was one of their schoolmates. They had played with him from time to time in the past. And there could be no doubt in the world but that poor Bill Klemm was suffering dreadfully; there was no make-believe about that expression of pain on his dirty face.

“We must help him, Frank!” said Lanky, firmly.

He wanted to win that race above all things. Glory and victory, together with that fine prize, had been ever before his mind. Then there was his promise to Dora that he would do his very level best to bring the Columbia colors in ahead of all competitors.

But above all else Lanky had a heart. He could not pass by, as evidently Parker and Coddling had done, without extending even a word of sympathy to the stricken bad boy of Columbia.

Frank had to do some pretty tall thinking just then. He would not desert Bill, but was there any necessity for both of them to give up the run?

He could hardly believe that Coddling, at any rate, would have been quite so cold-hearted. Perhaps he had not understood what it really meant. He may even have suspected that some wily Columbia student, hoping to delay the leaders, had gotten himself up in this fashion to play the injured act. All sorts of expedients had been practiced in former long runs, to break in upon the winning spell of the leaders; and clever Coddling was alive to such tricks.

But with Frank and Lanky there could be no such excuse for wantonly deserting the boy who begged for their help. They could see for themselves that he was in a serious condition; and that unless someone stood by him, to assist in stopping that flow of blood, Bill might even die.

Frank knew that his work was cut out for him. He did not relinquish the last hope of being in the run to the finish without a sigh; for there was always some expectation that Columbia might have to look to him for victory, should Lanky fail in the pinch.

But he sturdily put the clamps on when he felt this spirit trying to choke the generous impulses of his heart.

“GO ON, I TELL YOU, LANKY, YOU MUST WIN THIS RACE!”
Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics. Page 205.

Lanky must go on, and do his level best for Old Columbia; leaving to him the less pleasant duty of caring for the injured Bill Klemm.

“I’ll look after him, Lanky; you keep right along, and beat them out! Hear?” he exclaimed, turning on his chum.

Lanky shook his head in the negative.

“You go, and let me stay, Frank!” he said, crushing down the feeling of rebellion because so miserable a specimen as Bill Klemm, of all Columbia boys, should interfere with the successful carrying-out of their part in the race.

“I’ll not stir from this spot until I’ve seen Bill taken in charge,” was the way Frank spoke. “And it’s silly to think that both of us must stay. There will be others along after a minute or two, and they can help me. Go on, I tell you, Lanky. You must win this race. Think of Dora; and the proud colors of Columbia that will be trailed in the dust if you fail them. My duty is here; yours to beat out those two runners ahead. Now you’re off!”

Frank actually turned Lanky around, and gave him a shove. The tall boy glared once over his shoulder, and gave his chum a last look, in which affection mingled with the stern resolve that filled his soul.

Then he was away like the wind. Around the bend beyond he flashed as might a departing sunbeam; and Frank Allen, as he turned once more toward the injured boy, was saying gladly to himself:

“Lanky will do it! he’s keyed up to making a record run; and he’ll just pass the other fellows like they were standing still!”

CHAPTER XXIII
THE END OF THE LONG RUN

“Where are Asa Barnes and Wat Kline?”

Frank asked the question as he was bending down over the wounded boy, making a rude tourniquet, with which to stop the flow of blood, by compressing the leg above the broken part.

He put this question from a double motive; being curious to know why Bill’s cronies had not attempted to assist him in his trouble; and also to keep the mind of the wounded boy off his pain as much as he could.

“The skunks deserted me at the last!” grumbled Bill, gasping with the agony he was doubtless enduring.

“Do you mean they ran away, and left you like this?” demanded the amateur surgeon, twisting the stick he had inserted in the handkerchief that was already knotted around the leg.

“Naw, they never knowed anything about me bein’ hurt,” whimpered Bill, and then he gave a little snort, going on: “Ouch! that hurts like all get out, Frank! Let up on a feller a little, can’t you? I know I ain’t always treated you white; but sure you wouldn’t take it out on me, now I’m down!”

“You don’t understand, Bill,” Frank replied, giving even a firmer twist to the handkerchief by means of the grip he maintained on the stick which was passed through the upper part; “I’m trying to press down on the artery, and stop the flow of blood. It may hurt some; but be a man and bear it. I’m doing all I can to save your very life, Bill.”

The wretched Bill began to cry, and Frank hardly knew what he could do, since he had his hands full with holding that knotted handkerchief, and the stick with which he had turned it again and again, until the knot pressed down exactly on the artery under the knee, and stopped the blood from flowing.

Just then a runner came along. It was Wentworth, of course. And he gave signs of meaning to stop to ask what it all meant.

Frank knew that possibly this runner might have a ghost of a show to come in either first, or second. Those further back would be out of the running by the time they arrived here; and he could depend on one of them to assist him.

So he waved his hand to Wentworth, and called out:

“Go on! Don’t stop for a second, Wentworth! You’ve still got some show! One of our Columbia boys here has been hurt. I’ll stop Mallory or Keating when they come on, to help me get him out of this before he bleeds to death. Get along with you now, Wentworth. Take the will for the deed! Your school wants you to make a try for that prize!”

Thus urged, Wentworth did push right along, though be it said to his honor that he gave evidences of reluctance in so leaving Frank. He must have seen from the appearance of the wounded boy that it was a serious matter.

“Oh! why did you let him go on?” complained Bill, who was getting a trifle light-headed, the result of the pain and excitement combined. “Looks like you just wanted me to die right here, Frank Allen.”

“There are two other fellows coming along soon, and they’ll stop to help us,” Frank tried to console him by saying. “Yes, I can see one right now, and he’ll sure be here in a minute, Bill. Just keep up your pluck a little while more. It’s going to be all right; and you’ll pull through, never fear.”

But poor Bill was almost in a state of collapse by the time Mallory reached the spot. Frank did not know this boy, for he was a newcomer in Bellport. But he had a good face; and sure enough, as soon as he understood what the matter was, he evinced a perfect readiness to stand by.

“My chance for making that prize has gone anyway, Allen,” he said, with a sigh of keen disappointment. “I worked too hard the last week, and you can see I’ve just gone stale. Can’t get any speed out of my legs, no matter how I try. So I call quits right here, and stay with you to help get this poor chap to a doctor.”

“Doctor, yes, that’s what I need, boys!” muttered Bill, weakly.

“Here comes Keating along,” Mallory continued presently; “and he’s pretty well winded, too; so I reckon he’ll hold over, and give us a hand. That’s better than coming in at the tail-end of the procession, anyhow. People’ll say you might ’a’ had a little chance, only that duty held you on the road. Hi! Keating, we want you here!”

The runner was not averse to stopping, for his wind seemed about gone. Indeed, he was even then possibly debating whether he wanted to keep up the hopeless race, or head for Bellport on a walk, to strike the trolley line further down the road.

“What’s all this mean?” he asked, in a gasp, as he came up.

“A fellow has been badly hurt, and we’ve got to get him to town,” Mallory explained.

“If one of you could keep hold of this stick, and not let up on the pressure a little bit, I’d try and find a farm somewhere near, where I could borrow a horse and wagon, to carry him back to town,” Frank remarked just then, knowing that it was their only chance.

“Sure, we’ll stick by you, Allen!” was the ready response of Keating, who proved to be a pretty fine sort of a fellow. “Skip out, and get back as soon as you can. I’d like to pike on to the grounds, and see who won the race before all the crowd gets away. But we’ll wait, no matter how long you take, Allen.”

“Oh! rats! what have we got to lose?” replied the other, laughingly. “We’re long since out of the swim, anyhow. But I say, Allen, where’d you learn how to put on a tourniquet so well? My dad’s the new doctor in Bellport, and I wager he’d say he couldn’t have done it better himself, in an emergency. If this fellow gets through alive, he’ll owe a heap to you, believe me.”

But Frank did not wait to listen to any words of praise. He was on the run even as Keating spoke in this strain. For he had remembered that when hunting squirrels in these woods, he had come on a little farm that was almost lost among the tall timber; and secured a most refreshing drink of buttermilk from a pleasant woman who seemed to be running the place.

It was to look for this that he now set out. And he was cudgeling his brains as hard as he could while hastening away, trying to figure out just how he could best reach this hidden farm. A mistake might lose him much time; and if the life of the wounded boy was to be saved, they must surely get him to the doctor as speedily as possible.

Fortunately Frank was a boy who noticed everything; and once he had visited a place, he could find his way there again because of this habit of observation. So now he called things to mind, and remembered how he had passed that crooked tree that made him laugh because of its queer shape, just after he came out of the lane that led direct to the hidden farm.

And so he found what he sought, and turning in, sped lightly along, rapidly nearing the farm. The only thing that worried him now was the possibility of the occupants being away; for nearly everybody around Columbia for twenty miles had in some way heard of the great athletic contests, and doubtless made it a point to be present on this eventful day.

If that happened to be the case, and he could find a spare horse, as well as any sort of vehicle, Frank was resolved to appropriate them without any compunction. When a human life depends on rapid action, it is no time to stand on ceremony; and he felt sure he could depend on that cheery little woman of the farm to applaud his action.

Sure enough, there was no one home at that hour. Chickens were in evidence; a litter of pigs grunted near the barn; several sheep were cropping the grass in a nearby pasture; just beyond a group of gentle-eyed cows looked curiously at him as he came hastily up, and called out.

But the house was closed, and the door locked!

Frank ran straight out to the barn and stables. Here he found an old horse, and a wagon that would serve his purpose. Managing to hitch the animal between the shafts after some fashion, Frank threw armfuls of sweet smelling hay into the bed of the vehicle, upon which the wounded boy could lie.

Then he was off, using the whip on the old animal in a fashion that doubtless astonished Dobbin not a little. But the beast kicked up his heels, and went on a gallop down the lane until the road was reached.

So, before a great while had elapsed, Frank was back again with the boys who were bending over poor Bill, dressed only in their running togs as they were. With as much tenderness as possible they lifted the wounded lad, and deposited him in the wagon. He cried out with the agony several times, though they tried to be very careful.

Frank drove the old horse, while the other two sat alongside Bill, and endeavored to cheer him up; though the boy began to close his eyes, and seemed as though he might be faint with what he had gone through.

While the road was good Frank hurried the animal as much as he dared. And since they must pass the athletic grounds on their way to Columbia, he would not have been human had he not listened, with his heart seemingly in his mouth, to catch the tenor of the exultant shouts that were being raised by the departing hosts of spectators.

They were streaming in various directions, in knots and crowds, and the greatest enthusiasm seemed to abound; as though the finish of the long run might have been very dramatic.

Borne on the late afternoon breeze came the familiar chorus of voices that the efficient cheer captain, Herman Hooker, led with such powerful effect.

The sound thrilled Frank Allen as nothing else could have done. He found himself involuntarily joining in with that never-to-be-forgotten rallying cry that had so often aroused himself and his mates to undreamed-of endeavors on the field of strife:

“Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! veni! vidi! vici! We came, we saw, we conquered! Columbia! ’Rah!”

That told the story! The departing hosts seemed to be all Columbia people, judging from the shouts that arose. Then Lanky—good, reliable old Lanky—had passed both Parker and Coddling in the race, and landed the colors of his school across the tape, winner of the long run!

And Frank felt content that it was so.

CHAPTER XXIV
WHEN THE MESSAGE CAME

“Oh! Frank!”

There was Lanky, dressed in his everyday clothes, and looking very unlike the proud victor of a long, grueling run. But Frank could understand that his chum was tremendously excited.

The three boys had just seen poor Bill taken into his own home, with his mother crying over him, and the father hastening to ’phone for a doctor to come without delay; for they, like all other parents, instantly forgave the erring son when they saw him so terribly injured.

Frank had accepted the offer of Mallory that he and Keating take the horse to a livery stable, and they had just driven off, to communicate with the owner later, when Lanky hailed in the manner stated above.

“What’s up, Lanky?” asked Frank; “They tell me you came in ahead, all right, and that Columbia will blaze with bonfires to-night because of your great work.”

“That’s all right!” exclaimed Lanky, breathlessly; “tell you all about it later. Get into your everyday togs as fast as you can, and come with me.”

“Why, what’s the matter now?” demanded Frank; though perhaps he began to have a dim suspicion as to the cause of his chum’s new excitement.

“Had a message over the wire,” Lanky went on, tersely, as though breath was more valuable now than when on his long run; “little Effie had on just such a bonnet when she disappeared. Mr. Elverson and his wife were away, and just got my wire. They’re coming along right now, and’ll get here to-morrow, Frank.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Frank.

“Get the little girl before those gyps hike out,” came the reply.

“Just us two go into that camp, where there are something like five husky men, with faces I don’t altogether like?” questioned Frank.

“Shucks! no. Don’t you understand, I’ve fixed it up with Chief Hogg, and he’s to go along, with two of his men. And more’n that, Frank, I’ve been and got an order of arrest on the charge of kidnapping for that old gypsy queen. Didn’t tell you about that before, did I; eh? Well, I thought I’d spring a surprise, if the thing worked out right. Hit her up now, and get dressed. I’ll go along and hurry things.”

Frank was almost as excited now as Lanky had been from the start. The great race had been won by Columbia; and as if that were not enough glory for one day, here they were about to prove that they could play the part of detectives as well as win juvenile Marathons.

Frank had to be urged to hasten no longer. He ran like a greyhound for home, and to don an extra suit of clothes, his ordinary wearing apparel being down at the dressing-rooms of the athletic grounds, where he could get it on the next day.

The way Frank got into those clothes would have opened the eyes of some boys, who, having no bump of order, can never find anything that belongs to them. And as soon as he had finished, he found that Lanky had already made a break for the outer air.

“We’ve got to get a wagon at the livery!” was what the leader called back over his shoulder; and about three minutes later a couple of panting boys were demanding that a vehicle capable of holding half dozen at least be hitched up.

After that came the job of getting the co-operation of the police. Luckily Chief Hogg had arrived home from his duties of repressing the smaller boys at the athletic grounds. And not being averse to figuring in a matter that was apt to get his name printed in the big daily papers of the metropolis, he at once hustled a couple of his men around to the big wagon.

Frank saw that they were, as he expressed it, “loaded for bear”; since every man swung a club; and moreover made it a point to have a suspicious bulge under the tails of his coat, showing that he carried a big revolver in a hip pocket.

The Chief himself drove the horses attached to the wagon. Doubtless people, seeing them pass, might wonder what was going on; but then that day had been so filled with thrills that they could not bother themselves any great length of time in useless speculation.

“Now tell me something about how you came in,” demanded Frank, after they were well started on the little run to Budd’s Corners.

“Oh; on the jump, sure!” replied Lanky, with one of his usual laughs.

“But go on and tell me about it,” Frank persisted. “You must have overhauled the two runners ahead of you before a couple of miles had been laid away. How was it when you went ahead? Did anything happen? Was there anything said, or attempted, about that time, Lanky?”

“I passed Coddling first of all,” the other remarked. “I think he made some sort of sarcastic remark; but then that was only what you’d expect.”

“And Parker?” persisted Frank.

“He looked back just then,” Lanky remarked. “P’raps he heard Coddling call out; but all I know is he turned his head and saw me. And Frank, he looked like he was too mad for anything. I knew he wouldn’t let me pass him if he could help it. And I just remembered all you’d said about what I must do.”

“Yes, go on, Lanky,” urged Frank; while even the police officers listened with apparent interest as the boy told his story of how the long run was made.

“I kept getting closer and closer to Parker,” Lanky continued. “He was doing all he knew how just then to hold his own; but, Frank, I was feeling that frisky I reckon I c’d ’a’ drawn circles around that dub if I tried.”

“But you didn’t go to all that trouble, Lanky?” remarked Frank, laughing at the way the other put it.

“When I was just back of him I kept my eyes open for any of his little tricks,” the tall boy explained. “You see, I didn’t want to get hit by any stone that might just take a notion to fly up from his feet, and get in my way, like poor old Bones. And I was watchin’ for a chance to flip past Parker when he didn’t expect it.”

“Which I take it you did after a little?” Frank suggested, to hurry Lanky on; for they were even then drawing near the camp of the Romany tribe.

“Yes, I saw him make a movement of some sort; and thinkin’ he was goin’ to drop something in front of me, I just skipped across to the other side of the road in great shape, and then lit out for all I was worth. Heard him tryin’ to say somethin’ or other, but he was too late; because, you see, I was ahead. And after that I could give Larry the grand laugh. I just romped in, with him fifty yards behind, and Coddling picking up on him fast; because, you see, the wonder was played out. That’s all. I tried to duck when the boys made a grab for me; but they insisted on carryin’ me around the field on their shoulders, while they roared our school song. And there’s the camp, Frank!”

“I’m going to look at your watch later on, Lanky; but it sure gives me great pleasure to see you wearing it,” Frank remarked.

“It might have been yours, if you hadn’t made me go on, and leave you with Bill,” grumbled the unselfish tall chum.

“Oh! no, that’s where you’re away off, Lanky,” came the reply. “I knew that you were the only one who could head that Parker with the lead he had. But now let’s hope the same sort of success falls to us here as came in that long run.”

The gypsy camp looked rather quiet. Frank was glad to see no men in evidence, and could give a pretty good guess that they were all off, occupied with driving hard and fast bargains in horse trading with the many farmers in town for that day.

This pleased Frank, because if the gypsy men were absent it diminished the chances of a riot all the more, should Chief Hogg carry off the old queen. He expected to do this on the strength of the warrant Lanky had sworn out, charging her with abducting a child belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Elverson of a neighboring State.

When the wagon had arrived close to the camp those aboard jumped down, much to the surprise and consternation of several dark-faced women and children, who had run out to see the police wagon pass by.

“Which is her wagon, Lanky?” demanded the Chief, hurriedly.

“That biggest one, with all the gold paint, and pictures on the panels, over yonder,” replied the boy, pointing.

“This way, men, and surround that van! Be sure you let not a single person escape from it!” called the Chief, holding his long night-stick out in a threatening manner, as he led the charge through the camp; where kettles were kicked to one side, piles of bright-hued cushions leaped over, and a few dogs frightened off by the hostile demeanor of the men in blue uniforms.

In this manner, therefore, did the valorous Chief Hogg, and his several equally brave men, manage to reach the big van, which they speedily surrounded. The boys only hoped that no warning of their coming might have been conveyed to the queen; and that she would be caught inside, together with the child whom they had from the beginning been trying to rescue from bondage and tyranny.

In making this movement the head of the local force had been careful to take up a position himself that gave him command of the door in the rear of the traveling wagon. He looked about him as if to make sure that everything was arranged, and his men in their proper positions. Then he turned to Lanky.

“The warrant, if you please, Lanky!” he said in his heavy voice.

Lanky only too willingly surrendered the precious document which called upon the officers to bring the persons of the gypsy queen, and the small child which would be found in her care, before the nearest magistrate, and charging her with having kidnapped the little girl, for some purpose unknown to the court.

Then the pompous Chief knocked upon the closed door of the van. It was immediately opened, and the astonished face of the old queen became visible. She looked at the men in their uniforms and then at the two boys. Evidently the sight of Lanky excited her anger, just as a red flag will that of a bull. She shook her fist at him, and burst out in a flow of furious words:

“You are to blame for this! I knew you were not coming here to our camp, and prowling around, without some reason. Now, what does all this mean, and what has the queen of the gypsies done that she should be disturbed in her home by the officers of the house-dweller’s law? By what right are you here? Speak up, you fat man with the silver badge on your breast, and tell me of what crime Queen Esther is accused!”

CHAPTER XXV
THE STOLEN CHILD

With her eyes sparkling with rage the old queen looked very ferocious. But Chief Hogg did not quail. It would be a pretty thing to tell if he had shown the white feather in the face of a woman, no matter if she was a swarthy gypsy queen.

“I have here,” he went on to say, pompously, never noticing the slur in her language when she addressed him; “a legally sworn warrant, charging you with having in your wagon a small child—yes, a girl at that—which it is claimed you have abducted, kidnapped, carried away from its proper parents or guardians. And by virtue of my office, and this document, I am directed by the justice to bring both woman and child before him at once. So produce the child, and prepare to accompany us back to town.”

He made a motion, and his men closed in. The old queen looked as though she might defy the authorities of Columbia; but a glance around showed that not a single one of her men was within call. So she knew she must give up.

“I have a child, I confess,” she said, scornfully, addressing Frank rather than the big policeman; “and it does not belong to my tribe, but I expected to adopt it after a while, if no one claimed it. A woman came to us several months ago, when, we were camped far away from here. She seemed to be out of her mind, and we took her in. The little girl was with her. She died soon afterwards, and the child was left with us. All this can be proved. What have I to fear?”

Turning, she spoke to someone behind her, when the girl the boys had seen before, and whom the queen had called her granddaughter, Mena, shoved forward. She, too, looked scornfully at the big policeman, and undoubtedly the defiant nature of the old queen had descended to the child.

She was leading a small girl, whose hair seemed to be black enough, and her skin as dusky as that of the genuine gypsy, but whose eyes were a bonny blue.

She looked eagerly at the boys, and seeing Lanky, held out her hands toward him.

“What is your name, little girl?” Lanky asked, ready to give a shout, so filled with excitement did he seem.

“Effie!” was the quick reply, in a childish voice, as the little one shrank from the old queen, who must have been very cruel to her, Frank thought.

“That settles it!” yelled Lanky, as he turned on Frank, the light of a second great victory in one day filling his dancing eyes.

The Chief would take no delay. He realized that should the gypsy men return and find him arresting their queen, trouble of some sort was apt to ensue. And while Chief Hogg could look very imposing in his fine uniform, and possibly frighten boys, and hungry hoboes, everyone knew he did not particularly like a rough-and-tumble fight.

And so they all climbed up into the wagon, when the return journey to town was begun. Fortunately they happened to meet none of the gypsies on the way. And the old queen seemed to be sure that she could prove her statement, so that she would be held guiltless. If anyone was guilty of abduction it must have been the half-crazed woman who came with the child. And she had long since passed to a land where human laws could never reach her.

It turned out just as the gypsy queen had said. She had been wise enough long before to write an account of the happening, and have it published in some little country paper, that, having no circulation outside of the village where it was printed, was never seen by those who searched far and wide for traces of the long-lost daughter of the rich Elversons.

And when she produced a copy of this it was seen that she could not be held on any charge, unless that of cruelty toward the child. But she had been smart enough never to whip the little girl in a manner that would leave any traces; and so, there being no witnesses, and a mere child’s word not holding against that of the whole tribe, she was finally allowed to go.

The tribe disappeared that same hour, nor did they ever again come back to the vicinity of Columbia.

On the day after the rescue of little Effie, her parents arrived. Frank and Lanky met them at the train. When they saw a beautiful, though sad-looking, lady, accompanied by a tall gentleman, get off the train, and look hungrily around, they waited no longer, but rushed up to them.

“I’m the Lanky Wallace that sent the message, Mr. Elverson!” cried the boy; and his happy face caused the lady to cry:

“Oh! tell me, have you found her, my poor little lamb?”

For answer Lanky just turned and gave a whistle he had arranged with Effie, who had been left in the station. And as the child came running toward them, the lady started in amazement; for as yet nobody had been able to remove the stain that had been used to color her hair and her whole body, so that even her mother did not recognize her.

But when her childish voice piped up the one word “mommy,” and the lady had a single look into those laughing blue eyes, she doubted no longer, but squeezed the little waif to her heart, laughing and crying at the same time.

Of course they made a great ado over the two boys, and Frank in vain tried to prove that it had been all Lanky’s doings. His chum declared that they were partners through it all; and that he would never have been able to do the least thing toward learning the truth if it had not been for the advice and backing of Frank.

Later on they had to go over the whole story, telling everything that had the slightest connection with the gypsies and little Effie.

And before they went away with their recovered darling, Mr. Elverson and his wife made the two boys accept a most generous reward as a slight token of their esteem.

“It is only what would have been paid to a stranger who recovered our child for us,” the former declared, “and which has long been standing as an inducement for the detectives of the country to exert themselves; but outside of that, my dear boys, we can never forget what you have done. Our home shall be open to you always, as though you were kith and kin to us. And Effie will expect to see you there as often as you can make it convenient.”

Of course the boys enjoyed all this. The story had leaked out, and was told in every home in Columbia. Chief Hogg seemed to have an added strut to his walk; and it puzzled everyone to decide whether this came from seeing his name mentioned in the big New York dailies, as helping to recover the long-lost child of the millionaire, Adolph Elverson; or on account of the bulge in his pocket where he kept his wallet, after Mr. Elverson had visited him at headquarters.

Columbia High soon settled down to the duties of the season, and that year Prof. Tyson Parke admitted that the averages had never been so high. He secretly gave it as his opinion that the encouragement which clean athletics met with in his school, backed by the far-seeing trustees, was the cause for this increased interest shown by the pupils in their studies.

Lanky was very proud of his gold watch. He had to show it about twenty times a day for weeks after the long run, and the victory won, had gained him such a prize. And then his father, fearing that it was making him vain, bought him a dollar nickel timepiece, which he said was good enough for the rough-and-tumble school life of a boy. The prize was put away; only to be worn on Sundays, and special occasions; for it would do him when he grew up.

During the vacation that now loomed up before them, some of the boys who have figured extensively in these stories were to decide whether they would go to college, or, as Frank had suggested, take a post-graduate course under Prof. Parke; since their parents considered them rather young to break away from all home ties, and face the many temptations that beset the college student, especially in his freshman year.

Bill Klemm recovered, though he was laid up for two months. And there were many who echoed what the good doctor told Bill and his parents, that only for the first aid to the injured tactics of Frank Allen, the boy would hardly have pulled through. It doubtless would serve as a lesson to Bill, and everybody hoped for the sake of his parents that he would reform his ways.

If, as seems likely, Frank and a number of his chums who reached the graduation class on the last June school exhibition decide to stay in Columbia High another year, we shall hope and expect to meet them again amid scenes of boyish sports, where the honor of the school is the magnet that leads the contestants on to do their level best.

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

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Table of Contents

- The Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics

- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I DISTANCE RUNNERS
- CHAPTER II HELD BY THE ENEMY
- CHAPTER III THE GYPSY CARAVAN
- CHAPTER IV A MYSTERY OF THE WAGON
- CHAPTER V ON THE CAMPUS GREEN
- CHAPTER VI MAKING PLANS
- CHAPTER VII THE BENEFITS OF DISCIPLINE
- CHAPTER VIII LANKY’S PRIDE CONQUERS
- CHAPTER IX AMONG THE NOMADS OF THE ROAD
- CHAPTER X THE BUNCH FROM BELLPORT
- CHAPTER XI ALMOST A RIOT
- CHAPTER XII A POPULAR BOY
- CHAPTER XIII ON THE HARRAPIN
- CHAPTER XIV LANKY FINDS HIS CHANCE
- CHAPTER XV AN ACCIDENT BETRAYS RUFUS
- CHAPTER XVI LANKY BECOMES A “BARKER”
- CHAPTER XVII THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE
- CHAPTER XVIII FINDING OUT
- CHAPTER XIX THE GREAT DAY
- CHAPTER XX CLIFFORD’S NEW HOPE
- CHAPTER XXI WHAT HAPPENED TO BONES
- CHAPTER XXII COLUMBIA’S LAST CHANCE
- CHAPTER XXIII THE END OF THE LONG RUN
- CHAPTER XXIV WHEN THE MESSAGE CAME
- CHAPTER XXV THE STOLEN CHILD
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE