For the Honor of the School: A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XII

  THE FACULTY RACE

  When Paddy awoke the next morning his first act was to throw back theblinds and look eagerly at the thermometer hanging outside the window.It recorded fourteen above zero, and he gave a grunt of satisfactionas he scurried to the fireplace, raked the embers together, and addeda fresh log. There was no likelihood of either snow or rain marringthe skating surface of the river, and the state of the thermometerprecluded a thaw. Paddy was in the best of spirits all the forenoon, ashe and Wallace and the other members of the committee scurried from theschool grounds to the village, and from the village to the scene of thecoming contest on the river.

  The “skating carnival” had been proclaimed far and wide; its fame hadeven reached the neighboring towns along the Hudson, and at two o’clockthe boat-house float and steps and the river bank, as well as thefrozen surface thereabouts, was thronged with townspeople from Hillton,Euston Point, and other hamlets. Of course the academy turned out infull force; the junior class attended in a body prepared to aid theirchampions by every feat of lung and throat. A clear stretch of smoothice about ten yards from the shore had been roped off for the trackwhereon the sprints and a hurdle race were to be contested, while aseries of red flags--borrowed from the golf club--marked the course ofthe half-mile and mile events. There was an appearance of dignity andimportance about the scene that pleased Paddy mightily, and made himcarry his bright blue badge with great pride.

  Dave, with his usual hopefulness, had entered for everything for whichhe was eligible. Don was down for the hurdle race and a half-mileevent, and Wayne had entered for the mile race for novices. Paddy wasto take part in the class event and the mile. The afternoon was aperfect one for the sport. The sun shone dimly at times, the breeze,too light to interfere with speed, was nipping cold, and the ice wasin fine condition. Professor Beck had consented to act as referee, andseveral of the other professors wore judges’ badges and tried earnestlyto understand their duties.

  There were many entries for the half-mile handicap and a lowermiddle-class fellow won it easily from scratch. In the mile race fornovices Wayne finished well up in the first crowd and was quite elated.Both Paddy and Dave were entered in the mile event, and the formerwon from a field of some twenty fellows by a generous ten yards. Davestruggled along bravely and cheerfully, and seemed well satisfied withsixth place. When the class race was called twelve boys stood on themark, three entries from each class, and the juniors gathered in a bodyat the starting place and cheered their men and their class loudly andtirelessly until the contestants sped away over the shining course,their runners ringing musically on the frosty air. Dave was one of thechosen three representing the seniors, Paddy held the hopes of theupper middle class, and the lower middle banked on the fleet youth whohad previously won the half-mile handicap. The juniors placed implicitfaith in a small and wiry boy who looked scarcely over thirteen yearsof age. The twelve kept well together for the first of the three lapsconstituting the mile, but when the flags were reached the juniorchampion sprang to the front, followed by the three senior classfellows, and the balance strung themselves back along the course, Paddylaboring manfully to hold himself in for the last half lap. As theskaters sped by the point where Wayne and Don were watching, the formerrecognized one of the lower middle-class entries as Carl Gray, and drewDon’s attention to him.

  “Gray?” said Don. “Oh, the fellow that comes to see you every week onthat mysterious business? Well, he skates well, doesn’t he? He ought tofinish pretty decently, I should think. Paddy’s just dying to ‘go uphead,’ isn’t he? And look at old David; wouldn’t you think he was anice wagon on runners? Poor old chap! I believe if somebody got up aflying match he’d enter.”

  “He ought to have known better than to have got in the lead so early inthe race,” said Wayne.

  “Well, I guess he thought that if he didn’t get in front now he neverwould,” laughed Don. “But he’ll not be there after this round.”

  And he wasn’t. When the last spin over the course began, it seemedas though Dave stood still, for the entire field of skaters, withone exception, sped by him ere the remaining distance was one fourthtraversed. The single exception was the small junior who had forcedthe skating and who was now too used up to keep his lead. A hundredyards from the finish eight of the ten leaders were so closely bunchedas to render guessing the winner a difficult feat, and Wayne and Don,shouting loudly for Paddy, didn’t know who had won until the judgesgave out the result a moment later: Breen, first; Gray, second;Wallace, third. The upper middle had captured first place, the lowermiddle second, and the seniors had to be content with the third prize.Dave and the small junior fought stubbornly for precedence and thelatter won by a yard, and Dave was enthusiastically presented with apiece of ice, in lieu of a booby prize, by a delegation headed by Don.

  Meanwhile a flight of six hurdles, two and a half feet in height,had been put in place, and Don and three other fellows--one of themGreene--were on the mark. Hurdle racing on skates is a difficultaccomplishment, even when low hurdles are used, and success dependsnot alone on speed. The contestant who has not undergone the hardestpractice over the bars and learned to take them in much the same manneras does the hurdler who is running on cinders, might as well save hisbreath, and possibly a hard fall. Of the four contestants entered Donwas acknowledged the best, since his long training at track hurdlingenabled him to perform on ice in beautiful style. Although not sospeedy a skater as Greene, he was a more perfect hurdler, and he waslooked upon as the winner. The jumps were placed thirty yards apart,and the entire distance to be raced from starting line to finish wastwo hundred and ten yards. At the report of the pistol the four startedwell together. Conroy, a lower middle-class fellow, took the lead andcovered the twenty yards intervening between the line and the firsthurdle at fine speed, but only to come an inglorious cropper at thefirst leap and to find himself utterly out of the race ere it was wellbegun. Greene, and Jackson, the fourth man, took their hurdle side byside, and were halfway to their second before Don was in the air. Atthe third hurdle, however, Jackson was behind, and Don and Greene wererising for the jump at the same moment. And now form over the obstaclesbegan to tell, for while Greene was able to cover every interveningtwenty yards at a faster pace than Don, the latter gained ground atevery hurdle, taking off at his full speed and in each case barelytopping the wood, while Greene perceptibly decreased his speed beforeeach leap and always jumped from three to six inches higher than wasnecessary.

  Cheers for the boys filled the air as they raced for the last hurdle,Don a bare foot in advance of Greene, and Jackson just taking his fifthjump. At the sixth hurdle Greene’s performance was even clumsier thanbefore, and Don’s skates clanged down on the ice at the very moment theformer was rising to the jump. But in another moment the two were againalmost side by side, for on the level Greene’s speed told, and it wasnip and tuck to the tape. But Don managed to hold the slight advantagegained at the last hurdle and Greene accepted second place by thenarrowest sort of a margin.

  “If you were as fast on skates as I am, or I was as crack a hurdler asyou are,” he told Don laughingly, “one of us would be a wonder.”

  A half-mile straight-away race followed, but Don, who had entered forthis event, stayed out, being too winded to do himself justice, andthe race was won by the small junior, who had somehow found his speedagain. And then the event of the day was called, the great facultyrace, in which Professor Wheeler and a mysterious Unknown were tocompete over the mile course. Conjecture as to the identity of theUnknown was still rife, and as Professor Wheeler, on a fine new pair offull-clamp skates, advanced to the starting line, the throng watchedand waited impatiently for the other competitor. All the professorswere present, even “Turkey,” and not a few wore skates. It might beany one of them. Professor Beck skated to the line, and a murmur of“It’s Beck!” arose, only to be drowned by a second murmur of “No, it’sLongworth!” as the junior instructor in mathematics also approached.

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nbsp; “Who is the other competitor, sir?” asked Wallace, who was to act asstarter. The principal looked toward the shore.

  “He is coming now, Mr. Starter,” he answered smilingly. The throngabout the line followed his gaze and gasped in wondering amazement.Skating toward them, and leaving a ripple of amused laughter in hiswake, his head covered with a fur cap whose lappets were drawn downover his ears, with a long woolen muffler wrapped about his throatand a pair of old-fashioned wooden skates strapped to his feet,came--Professor Durkee!

  A moment of silent surprise was broken by a laugh that quickly resolveditself into a loud cheer. On the outskirts of the crowd, where theycould not be seen, impish juniors doubled themselves up with laughter.More dignified seniors shouted hoarsely to keep from following theexample, and even Professor Beck smiled broadly at the odd figure ofthe principal’s rival for honors. Whether Professor Durkee was awareof the sentiments aroused by his appearance none can say; if he was hecarefully concealed the fact; and after a few explanations from thereferee the two professors stood on the mark, silence fell, the pistolbanged, and the great faculty race was on!

  Professor Wheeler sped away up river at a pace that soon dropped theEnglish instructor yards behind. But fellows who knew the length of amile on ice shook their heads and predicted that the pace was too goodto last. Perhaps Professor Durkee thought so too, for he made no effortto win the side of the flying principal, but skated serenely on, hiscoat tails and the ends of his knitted gray muffler flying in the wind.

  “Isn’t he a sight?” asked Don, with a grin.

  “Oh, he’s something to dream of,” giggled Paddy. “But he can skate, canold ‘Turkey’! He has a style like--like--a scarecrow.”

  At that moment Dave flew frantically up.

  “What do you think?” he gasped. “It was ‘Turkey’----”

  But the words were taken out of his mouth by Wayne, who slid out of thecrowd and embraced Paddy to keep from falling.

  “Say, fellows, it was Professor Durkee that we saw on the river lastnight.”

  “And chased!” supplemented Dave.

  “Get out!” cried Don. “Who said so? How do you know?”

  “Recognized him!” answered Wayne. “Knew him as soon as I set eyeson him. I told you last night that it was a man, and that he wore amuffler thing around his neck. Remember?”

  “And I know too,” said Dave. “He looked just as he does now when I sawhim.”

  “Well, the desavin critter!” exclaimed Paddy.

  “I’ll just bet it was him!” said Don. “He had been practicing anddidn’t want us to see him.”

  “Yes; and I’ll bet he’ll beat ‘Wheels’ all hollow!”

  The boys crowded their way to a place by the course. Far up the ice theflying figures were making the turn and heading back to the startingpoint. It was difficult to discern which was ahead, but presently asthey drew nearer Professor Wheeler was seen to have maintained his leadof about twenty yards. Cheers, loud and prolonged, greeted the skatersas they made the turn and commenced the second round.

  “Go it, ‘Turkey’!” yelled the throng, all forgetful of respect in theexcitement of the moment.

  “Bully for ‘Wheels’!” cried others, and only ceased when Professor Beckwas seen smiling broadly at Professor Longworth. Up the river oncemore sped the racers, the ludicrous figure of the English professormaintaining its position behind the principal and never gaining orlosing. The latter was slackening speed a little now, and many fellowswere remarking, “I told you so!” in superior tones. But ProfessorDurkee refused to take advantage of the other’s lagging, and as theyturned at the flag and headed back, the watchers saw that the relativepositions were still the same. Down toward the starting point they cameagain, and again cheers welcomed them. Professor Wheeler had plainlyovertaxed himself in the first lap and was now trying to recuperate.He was a very graceful skater, using a long strike and handling hisfeet easily and well. Professor Durkee, on the other hand, possessed nostyle, kept his body quite rigid, and took rapid, short strokes. Andwhat, with his flying coat tails and muffler and his wildly swingingarms with a red mitten at the extremity of each, he was in truth astrange and humorous spectacle.

  Around the flag they went, the principal still holding his lead oftwenty yards, but looking a bit worried, and the English professor,his queer old face solemn and inscrutable under the fur cap, seeminglycontent to let the other keep the advantage. It was the last lap now,and as the two drew away upstream champions of each grew loud andexcited in their claims.

  “Why, ‘Wheels’ can leave him at the flag if he wants to!”

  “Course he can. He’s just letting ‘Turkey’ down easy.”

  “Oh, can he? Well, just you wait and see! Why, ‘Wheels’ is done foralready; he’s plumb beat!”

  And so on, while the contestants reached the farther end of the courseand made the turn. And now the spectators thronged the ropes thatguarded the finish, cheering excitedly. Down the ice sped the skaters;a quarter of the remaining distance was traversed when a shout arose.

  “Durkee’s closing up!”

  And so he was. His feet were moving so fast over the frozen surfacethat they were just a blur to the sight, his coat tails were flappinggloriously, and he was closing up the gap! But the principal was yetgame, and with a hundred yards or so still to cover and with ProfessorDurkee close behind him he spurted again to the front and had putseveral more yards between him and his rival ere the latter was awareof it. And then--well, then the red mittens moved so fast hither andthither that they looked like a streak of fire, the muffler ends stoodout straight in the wind, the coat tails followed suit, the woodenskates bit and clanged on the ice, the little professor became a smallcyclone, and the watchers held their breaths, too astonished to evencheer.

  Now the coat tails were even with the principal, now they had passedhim and were flapping derisively in his face, and now they were farbeyond reach. And then amid the delighted acclaim of hundreds “Turkey”crossed the line like a specially constructed whirlwind and won thefaculty race by a dozen long yards!