The Chums of Scranton High on the Cinder Path | Page 8

race."
"I certainly feel that way, K. K.," admitted Hugh firmly. "It strikes me this is going to be worth trying. If one of our crowd can save time by taking this route, while the other fellows go all the way around by road, that same thing may give Scranton High the clinching of the prize. It's all fair and square, too, for the conditions only demand that the runners refuse all sorts of lifts while on the road, and register at each and every tally place designated. If they can cut a corner they are at liberty to do so."
"Oh! well," said Julius; "I'm not entered in the Marathon, luckily enough, so you see there's no need of my prowling around this spooky place again. I haven't lost any quarry, that I know of; and Scranton is a good enough place for me to do my athletic exercises in. But, Hugh, if you should happen to find out about the thing that emitted all those frightful squawks, I hope you'll promise to let us know the particulars."
"I can promise that easily enough, Julius," the other told him; "though, just at present, my only concern is to gain time by this cut-off, and so win the big event for our school. Now suppose we drop this subject, and return to something pleasant."
They continued to bump along the rocky road with its deep ruts. At times K. K. had to make little detours in order to navigate around some obstacle which could not be surmounted; for time had not dealt lightly with the quarry road, and the rains and wintry frosts had played havoc with its surface.
But, eventually, they sighted light ahead. Steve was the first to glimpse an opening, and announce that the main highway leading down to Scranton must be close at hand. His words turned out to be true, and soon afterwards they issued forth from the covert and found themselves upon the turnpike, headed for home.
Hugh turned around to mark the spot well in his mind, though he knew that it was to be the exit, and not the entrance, to the short-cut, in case he concluded to utilize the quarry road when the great race was on.
CHAPTER IV
IN TRAINING FOR THE GREAT TOURNAMENT
It was an afternoon on the following week, after school hours, and the athletic field bordering the outskirts of the town of Scranton afforded a pretty lively spectacle. Indeed, it could be readily seen that the approaching tournament had taken a great hold upon the young people of the town.
Scores of boys were busily engaged in various exercises, under the watchful eye of Mr. Leonard, the assistant principal under Dr. Carmack. This determined-looking young fellow was a college graduate, and had taken considerable interest in all manner of athletics; indeed, it was well known that he had played on one or more of the college teams during his course, and won quite an enviable reputation for good work, though hardly reckoned a brilliant star.
Many who did not expect to participate in any of the numerous events had gathered to watch what was going on; and, besides, there were clusters of pretty high-school girls on the side lines, chattering like magpies, and venting their opinions regarding the chances certain favorites among their boy friends appeared to have in the way of winning a prize.
Scores were busily engaged in running around the cinder-path, taking the high jump, trying the hurdles, so as to perfect themselves against the coming Saturday when the wonderful event was to come off; sprinting for the short races of fifty, or a hundred yards; throwing the discus or the hammer, and numerous other lively doings.
Among these participants there were a number whom the reader of previous volumes in this series will readily recognize, and possibly gladly meet again. There was Alan Tyree, for instance, whose masterly pitching had done so much to land the pennant of the Three Town High School League that season for Scranton; Owen Dugdale, the efficient shortstop of the local nine; "Just" Smith, whose real name it happened was Justin, but who seldom heard it outside of school and home. He was a fleet runner, and had ably filled the position of left fielder when Scranton carried the school colors to victory over Allandale in that last heart-breaking game. Besides these, Joe Danvers was on deck, doing all sorts of wonderful stunts at throwing the hammer and taking the long jump, for Joe delighted in a variety of specialties and did not confine himself to any one particular thing; also might be seen one Claude Hastings, a chap who was a regular monkey in his way, and who always kept the crowd laughing by his antics, such as might be expected of a prize clown at the big Barnum