Fred was in his usual running costume, for he meant to make a last try to beat his record, so as to know how he would stand when the final test came. There was a string of good fellows ranged against him in that five mile race; and Fred did not pretend to be without doubts concerning his ability to head the procession.
"I was just thinking that myself, Dick," he replied as he stooped down to tie his shoes over again, in preparation for a start. "The four entries from Riverport are getting impatient to start; but Brad is holding back for some reason or other."
"Here he comes this way now, and perhaps we'll know what it means," remarked Dick; who had intended to be one of the long distance squad himself, but straining a tendon in his foot that very morning had made him give up the idea.
Brad Morton came bustling along. Fred saw that he looked worried, and wondered what could have gone wrong now. With Colon safe it did not seem as if anybody connected with the Riverport school should be anxious.
"Do we start soon, Brad?" he asked, as the captain of the track team reached convenient talking distance.
"The rest do; but the committee have decided to make a change about your running, Fred," were the surprising words he heard.
"Oh! that's all right," Fred replied, smiling; "I'm ready to give up to some better man, if that's what you mean."
"What?" gasped Dick Hendricks.
"Oh! rats!" cried Brad. "There's no better man in this matter at all, Fred. Fact is, you're the only one in our string who stands a good chance of beating that speedy Boggs in to-morrow's race. I've heard some talk among a lot of Mechanicsburg fellows. They're trying to get a line on your kind of running, Fred; which shows that they know right well you're the only one they need fear."
"Oh! well, they've seen me run lots of times when we played baseball and fought it out on the gridiron," remarked Fred, naturally flushing a little under the kind words of praise.