“Don’t touch him!” was the cry as sympathetic friends rushed to Arthur’s assistance. “Let him alone! Let him finish! Come on, Thompson! You can do it! Here he comes!”

Broadwood was yelling madly, encouragingly to her plucky runner, who, seeing his adversary’s plight, was making one final effort to wrest the victory from him. But he was still yards behind when Arthur found his feet unsteadily, cast a look to the rear, and limped, swaying and clutching, toward the finish. Once across it he sprawled face down in the road before willing arms could reach him, and the Broadwood runner, crossing the line the next instant, stumbled over him and measured his length, too, on the ground.

“Bully work!” commented Alf, his pen busy again. “That gives us tenth place and Broadwood eleventh. Say, this is getting rather too close to be interesting. What we need is two more runners[107] just about now, before Broadwood finishes her last man.”

“And one of them is coming,” said Dan excitedly. “It’s a Yardley runner, isn’t it, Tom? See his white shirt?”

“Yes, it’s a Yardleyite, all right,” Tom muttered.

“Sure?” asked Alf, trying to glimpse the distant road. “Then that makes our sixth man and the score is—by Jove, fellows! What do you think?”

“We don’t think; what is it? Are we ahead?”

“We’re just even; 39 to 39!”

“Oh, your score is crazy,” said Tom.

But Alf went over it, while Felder finished amid the plaudits of his schoolmates, and found it correct.

“That means, then,” commented Tom, “that we’ve got to get the next runner in or lose the shindig. I guess I’ll take a nap until the excitement’s over. I have a weak heart.”

“That’s right,” agreed Dan nervously, “this is sort of suspensous.”

“Whatever that may be,” added Alf. “Gee, I wish some one would come along and get it over. What time is it? How long will it take us to get back? What are they cheering about now?”

[108]

“Just to keep their courage up, I guess,” answered Tom.

The minutes dragged along while anxious eyes searched the distant bend of the road impatiently. And then, finally, a shout went up from the throng.

“Broadwood! Broadwood!” shrieked the Green’s supporters.

“That right?” asked Alf. Dan nodded.

“Then we’re dished!”

“Hold on, Alf, there’s another fellow just behind him. Never say die!”

Yardley’s cheers drowned Broadwood’s now, for the second runner was all in white and the distance between him and the man ahead was not so great, after all. The crowd flowed over onto the road, amid the appeals of the officials for “Track, please! Track! Everyone off the road! Let them finish! Give them room!”

Far up the road sped Green and Dark Blue, but as they came nearer and nearer it was evident that Dark Blue was gradually lessening the distance between him and his foe. Inch by inch, foot by foot the Yardley runner conquered the space, and a hundred yards from the finish he was almost within reach of the Broadwood man. Dan gave a whoop of delight.

[109]

“Do you see who it is, Tom?” he cried.

“No, but he’s a little cuss. Say, it isn’t——”

“Yes, it is, it’s Gerald!”

“Get out!” gasped Alf.

“It is, though, isn’t it, Tom?”

“Gerald for a dollar!” cried Tom delightedly. “And he will get him yet!”

“The plucky little beggar!” exclaimed Alf. “Can he do it? Think of the race depending on him, Dan! Wouldn’t that jar you? Is he gaining?”

“I—I don’t believe so,” muttered Dan anxiously. “He cut down a lot, but he’s just about holding his place now. He runs well, too, and looks fresher than the other chap. Oh, gee, Alf, why doesn’t he try harder?”

A groan went up from the Yardley watchers, for the Broadwood runner had suddenly sprung away and now a good four or five yards separated him from Gerald, and the finish was almost at hand.

After that first attempt to leave Hiltz behind Gerald had subsided into a pace that kept him just at the other’s heels. There was time enough yet, for it was evident that Hiltz was fast getting weary. And then, a minute or two later, Arthur Thompson drew up to them, passed them and[110] went ahead, running at a good speed but looking pretty white of face save where a flaming disk of crimson burned on each cheek. Gerald saw his opportunity and seized it. He sprang forward, passed Hiltz and fell in behind Arthur, letting the latter make pace for him. Hil............