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

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?”

[2]“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[3] 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[4] 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[5] 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[6] 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[7] 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[8] 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[9] 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.

[10]“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[12] 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[13] 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.

[14]“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[15] 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.

[16]“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.