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

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XXII

  DAVE IS MADE HAPPY

  On Monday Wayne went to the track at three o’clock and found ProfessorBeck instructing the broad jumpers who were tearing up the newly turnedloam with great gusto. A freckled-faced boy came hurtling through theair and plumped ankle-deep in the brown soil, and the professor heldthe end of the tape to the heel mark.

  “Twenty-one feet seven and a half, Gaffney,” he announced. “That willdo for to-day. Take your run on the track, and don’t let yourself getstiff.” He moved the rake which he held over the loam, obliterating themarks, and turned to Wayne.

  “Well, my boy, Cunningham tells me that you’re not satisfied withSaturday’s results. You think you can do considerably better if youkeep on, do you?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m sure of it.”

  “Very well. I’ll tell you what we’ve decided to do. We’ll go ahead asbefore, except that we’ll give more attention to short distances, anda week from Wednesday I’ll give you a trial over the mile. If you cando it in 5.15 we’ll send you to training table, and if you continue toimprove you’ll go with the team. But first you’ve got to go around thetrack six times with your arms swinging; after you have got so that youcan do that and do it with a decent amount of speed we’ll go on. Doesthat satisfy you?”

  “Yes, sir. May I run now?”

  “As soon as you like.”

  Wayne threw aside his wraps and limbered up. In a few moments hetrotted back.

  “All ready, sir.”

  “Never mind the pistol; start yourself. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Waynelooked down threateningly at each hand, got on the mark and sprang away.

  “Take it easy, Gordon,” called the professor, “and remember those arms!”

  The arms behaved nicely until Wayne fell to wondering how fast he wasgoing; then they strode up to his breast and remained unnoticed for ahundred yards. After that the boy kept one eye on the track and one onhis arms and finally finished the three quarters.

  “Hard work, was it?” asked Professor Beck with a smile.

  “Yes, sir, kind of. But it won’t be so hard next time.”

  “All right. Get your coat on and keep moving for a while. Then try thestarts with the others.”

  The next afternoon Wayne did a half mile in good time with his handsand arms where they belonged, and after that for the rest of the weekthe training went on as theretofore, save that he was put over numerousshort distances to develop his speed and substituted three-mile walksfor the usual runs across country. He made progress almost at once; onWednesday he covered the four hundred and forty yards in 0.56?, andbegan to consider himself something of a sprinter, even though thefirst man in the race reached the tape in 0.52?. He was on the trackevery day that week except Thursday and Saturday; on Thursday he wasordered off by Professor Beck and told to rest, and on Saturday he wentover the road for a stiff walk with several other long-distance men.

  It was while he was crossing the green to the gymnasium after that walkthat Dave lumbered across the turf toward him, swinging his sweaterexcitedly around his head.

  “One hundred and forty-six!” he yelled exultantly.

  “Who? What?” asked Wayne.

  “Me! The hammer!” answered Dave, smiting the other joyfully on the backwith a force that nearly upset him. “I threw it!”

  “Really? I’m awfully glad. How’d it happen?”

  “Why, you see--well, I don’t quite know. But Remsen’s been coachingus every day since Monday, as you know. He’s told me all along thatthere was something wrong with my swing, but he couldn’t tell what. Butto-day he grabbed the hammer away from me, told me to watch it, andsent it spinning. Well, I noticed that he did one thing that I didn’t:when he let go he gave a peculiar jerk to his body. Of course, I’veknown about it--they call it ‘putting the devil into the swing’--butsomehow I never could manage it right. But to-day I saw how it wasdone--it’s in the way you manage your feet--and I yelled: ‘I see, Isee! Let me have it!’ At first I couldn’t do it at all. When I tried tobring my right foot round after the third swing I forgot to let go atthe right moment. But the next time I did it, and threw a hundred andforty-two. Then Remsen swung again and I watched. And the next time Ipiled two feet six inches on to it; and the next throw was a hundredand forty-six and a fraction. I’d be throwing yet if Remsen hadn’ttaken the hammer away and sent me home.” Dave laughed happily. “Youwait until to-morrow, Wayne. Why, now that I’ve learned that littletrick I bet I can beat Hardy by two feet!”

  “Well, I’m awfully glad,” said Wayne, “and I hope you will. Does Donknow?”

  “No; he and Beck went off together just before.”

  “Let’s go up to the room; perhaps he’s there.”

  They had finished their dressing by this time, and they piled upstairsand across the green to Bradley. Don was sitting at the table with alitter of papers before him, all the gas burning, and the afternoontwilight streaming in through the windows.

  “Well, what----” began Wayne.

  “Figuring our chances, my boy,” answered Don, rumpling his hair withnervous fingers.

  “How are they?” asked Dave eagerly.

  “Slim, mighty slim. I can’t see anything but defeat and a second placeon the ticket.”

  “Let me see.” Dave took up a sheet of foolscap and cast his eyes overit.

  “Read it out,” said Wayne.

  “Well, let’s see; here we are: Hillton, 4 firsts, 5 seconds, 1 third,total 36 points; St. Eustace, 6 firsts, 5 seconds, 1 third, total 46points; others, 2 firsts, 2 seconds, 9 thirds, total 26 points. Youseem to be fond of 6’s, Don.”

  “What counts what?” asked Wayne.

  “First counts 5, second 3, third 1. There are twelve events and 108points,” answered Don. “I’ve given Hillton everything she can win, andone first that is doubtful. Of course, St. Eustace may be stronger orweaker than I think. But, pshaw! the whole thing’s just guess work; wemay not score 20 points, or we may possibly get 40; you can never tell.But Beck wanted a guess at it.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you where you can get five points more,” said Dave.“You’ve credited us with second place in the hammer throw and St.Eustace with first. You can give us first and second both.”

  “How’s that?” asked Don.

  “Why, I’ve just thrown over one hundred and forty-six feet, and I canbetter it by two more in a couple of days.” And Dave retold his story.Don bit the end of his pencil thoughtfully; then he referred to a sheetof figures before him.

  “I guess you’re right, Dave. By Jove, I am glad! Trowbridge, ofNorthern Collegiate, threw one hundred and forty-eight feet five incheslast year; Sumner, of St. Eustace, one hundred and forty-seven even. Ifyou can throw two feet better than you did to-day, Dave, we’ll stand achance to beat St. Eustace, at least. Give me that list. There, thatmakes it--why, it makes St. Eustace and us each forty-one points!”

  “Well, that’s more than a fighting chance.”

  “Yes. But what’s the good of figuring on track meetings? Any one ofthose other five schools might upset this whole table of figures.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But let’s hope for the best; it doesn’t cost anymore,” answered Dave cheerfully. Don bundled away his papers, and, withthe result of his labors in hand, went out with Dave on his way toProfessor Beck’s room. Left to himself, Wayne got his books together,drew a half-finished thesis toward him, and started to work. Presentlyhe stopped and knit his brows. Then he chewed the end of his pen asan aid to memory, and at length went to the bookcase and turned overseveral volumes, apparently without finding the information he desired.At that moment a knock sounded and Carl Gray entered.

  “Hello!” cried Wayne. “Say, Gray, when did the insurrection of Cylontake place?”

  “Oh, about a couple of thousand years ago, I guess.”

  “But what year was it?”

  “Well, let me see; 357 B. C., wasn’t it? No; that was the war of theAthenian league. I guess I don’t know, Gordon.”
/>   “Shucks! I’ll have to go over to the library.”

  “Well, wait a minute and I’ll go with you. I brought these up.” He tooka package from his pocket and laid it on the table; Wayne picked it up,and undoing the paper covering revealed a pair of new cork grips.

  “They’re for you,” said Gray hurriedly. “I hope you’ll use them whenyou win the mile at the interscholastic meet. They’re not very wellmade; I had to use big stoppers, and they were sort of coarse grained.”

  “Why, they’re simply immense,” said Wayne. He took one in each handand gripped his fingers about them. “I’m awfully much obliged. And ofcourse I’ll use ’em, whether I win or lose, Gray. But how in the worldcould you make ’em?”

  “Oh, you just cut the cork out in sections and glue them over a pieceof wood, you know. Then you shape it with a sharp knife and sort ofpolish it off with fine sandpaper or emery. It’s easy enough, and I’mglad you like them.”

  “You bet I do! They’re fine! Thanks, awfully.”

  “Gordon, I wish you weren’t so full of thanks; you tire me to death!”said Gray, trying to mimic Wayne’s manner. Wayne grinned.

  “Now we’re even. Come over to the library with me.”

  “No,” said Gray, as they went downstairs, “we’re not even. And wesha’n’t be for a long time. And that reminds me.” He pulled a coin outof his pocket and handed it to Wayne. “I sha’n’t be here a week fromSaturday, you know; we go to Marshall to play St. Eustace.”

  “That’s the last of them, isn’t it?” asked Wayne as he dropped thedollar into his pocket.

  “Yes, that’s the last. And thank you ever so much, Gordon. Did I tellyou last week that I’d been sending a little money home to my motherever since I got those first golf balls to fix? Yes, and I know she’stickled about it. You wouldn’t think that a fellow could make money inschool, would you?”

  “Some fellows could, and some couldn’t,” answered Wayne. “Do you getany balls to mend nowadays?”

  “Yes, quite often; and a good many clubs. I’ve got so I can put a newshaft on to a head in fine style.”

  “But you must have turned your room into a regular carpenter shop,”laughed the other.

  “No; I use a corner of the carriage room in the stable. Mr. Vancedoesn’t charge me anything for it; he’s awfully kind. You might comeover and see my ‘repair shop’ some day.”

  “I will, and I’ll bring a club of Don’s that has the leather hangingby the skin of its teeth; it’s a disgrace to the study and ought to befixed.”

  They had reached the library, and Wayne went to the shelves and began ahunt.

  “Find one of those epitome things,” suggested Gray.

  “Where are they? Oh, I see.” He laid his hand on a volume, but as hedid so his eyes encountered the title of the one next it. “Ploetz’sEpitome of Universal History,” he read. “Who was it spoke of thatonce?” He took the book down and withdrew to the window. As he did sothe volume opened apparently of its own accord at the three hundred andfifty-second page.

  “Well, I’ll be switched!” cried Wayne.

  “What’s up?” asked his companion, coming toward him.

  “Why--er--nothing at all. I guess I’ll take this with me.”

  Together they passed out, and parted at the corner of the gymnasium.Wayne hurried on to Turner Hall and sprang up two flights of stairs.

  “I hope Benson’s in,” he said to himself as he knocked lustily at thedoor of No. 36. He was, and in a moment Wayne was crossing the studytoward where the occupant sat by the open window reading somethingwhich looked but little like a text-book.

  “Hello, Gordon!” cried Benson. “Glad to see you; sit down and behappy.” For reply Wayne opened the library book and laid it face up onthe window seat.

  “What’s--” began Benson; then he stopped with a gasp. On the open pagesrested a new two-dollar bill, folded once. “Did you find it there?” heasked in bewilderment. Wayne nodded.

  “Well!” Benson took the bill and felt of it as though doubting itsgenuineness. “I must have slipped it in there to mark my place whenGray came in that day!”

  “You must have,” answered Wayne dryly. Benson flushed and lookedworried.

  “By Jove, Gordon, I’m awfully sorry! Such a stupid thing to do! Iremember now that I took the book back that evening just before supper,and I suppose I didn’t open it once. Do you think I ought to apologizeto Gray?”

  “No, he doesn’t know but that you found it long ago; you know I toldhim you had. No, there’s nothing to do but grab the money and put itsomewhere where it won’t get lost. You see, Benson, I don’t want to beaccused of taking it away with me,” he added unkindly.

  “Oh, I say, Gordon, let up!”

  “All right,” laughed Wayne, “we’ll forget it. I’ll take the book withme. And, by the way, if you feel that you’d like to make up to Grayfor--for suspecting him, you know, why, bust a golf club or two and lethim mend them.”

  On the stairs of Bradley Wayne encountered Paddy, who threw his armsabout him and hugged him ecstatically.

  “Hurrah! He’s gone! He’s went! He’s departed!”

  “Who?” gasped Wayne.

  “Gardiner, the great, good, and only Gardiner! He took the 2.30 forhome, and now I can get some peace and quiet. Honest Injun, Wayne, ifhe had stayed another week I should have been a gibbering idiot andgone around cutting people’s throats with a long, keen blade!”

  “Oh, dry up,” laughed Wayne. “Have you been upstairs? Is Don there?”

  “I have. He is not. Come, let us go to the village and celebrate atCaper’s on soda water. Let us speed the parting guest. Gardiner’s allright, Wayne, but, ah, he’s terrible onaisy.”

  “I don’t believe I’m supposed to drink soda water, Paddy, but I’ll goand watch you. Have you seen Dave lately?”

  “No, what’s he been up to?”

  “He’s been breaking his own record with the hammer.”

  When Paddy heard the facts he was delighted, and proved it by dancingfrom side to side of the dusty roadway until out of breath.

  “Old Dave will be pleased to death,” he panted. “He’s been awfully inthe dumps since the handicaps. My, but I do hope he’ll win out at theinterscholastic!”

  And then they went on to the village and sought out the tiny shopwhere the enticing sign “Ice Cream Soda” flanked the doorway. And Paddydrank one of chocolate flavor in honor of Gardiner’s departure and oneof strawberry in celebration of Dave’s success.

  The following Wednesday afternoon Wayne went over the mile, whileProfessor Beck and Don and a little group of fellows looked on andcheered his progress after each lap. He put his whole mind and energyinto the task, and never altered the hard pace he had set himself up tothe last half of the last quarter, despite the warnings of Don and theprofessor, who both timed him.

  “He’s going too fast, I’m afraid,” said Don sorrowfully.

  “I fear so,” answered the professor. “But maybe he knows what he cando; he’s improved wonderfully since the handicaps.”

  When the last lap began Wayne let himself out just a trifle until atthe end of the back stretch the little group was staring in surprisefrom the watches to the runner.

  “He’s done it easily,” cried Don. “And look! Hanged if he isn’tspurting!”

  Down the stretch came Wayne, his head back, his arms at his side, andrunning as though he was being paced by a steam engine. Over the linehe dashed and the two watches stopped.

  “Five minutes eight and a fifth seconds!” cried Don.

  “Five minutes eight and a fifth seconds!” echoed the professor. Thecrowd clapped as Wayne trotted back, panting and flushed but evidentlyunwearied; and Don patted him joyfully on the shoulder.

  “Eight and a fifth, Wayne!” he cried. Wayne looked for confirmation tothe professor, who nodded as he dropped his watch back into his pocket.

  “That will do for to-day, Gordon. Report at training table in themorning,” he said.

  N
ine days later the track team, together with Professor Beck andtwo graduate coaches, assembled after supper in the gymnasium, werecheered individually and collectively by their schoolmates, and wereconveyed to the station, where they embarked on the Pacific Expressfor the up-State city which was on the morrow to be the scene of theinterscholastic meeting.

  And with them went the hopes of Hillton.