Dick nodded silently. The high jump was to be the last event; he did not need to be told that his chance of winning this was very problematical.
“Now, I’m entered for the broad jump,” said the captain. “I put my name down because it did no harm to have it there, and occasionally, you know, I’ve made a good jump. I’m wondering if I hadn’t better go in and try two or three times, on the chance of adding a point or two to the score.”
“But the four-forty?” exclaimed Melvin. “That comes right after.”
“That’s the point. Is there any risk? Their best man in the quarter is Ropes, but I’ve run past him once to-day and can do it again. I don’t feel exhausted at all, and you know the quarter is my run. I have no confidence that Brown will do anything at all in the broad jump, and Hillbury has two good jumpers at least. Shall I take the risk of hurting myself for the chance of winning a couple of points?”
“Broad jumpers out!” sounded the official warning at the door of the quarters.
“I think I’ll do it,” decided Dickinson, as Melvin hesitated.
The Hillburyites were cheering when the jumpers came out; the mile had yielded Hillbury five points and Seaton three.
“Still six ahead!” said Melvin, looking at the board.
Dickinson took one jump—nineteen feet six; then one more—twenty feet two inches; and went back to the house to have his ankle rubbed again. He did not learn until he came out for the quarter some time later, that he had won second prize, while Brown had made nothing at all. Hillbury had taken first and third.
“Twenty-seven to twenty-nine, old man!” whispered Curtis, as Todd sallied forth for the low hurdles. “They’re crawling up. Discourage them, can’t you?”