“Oh, do you believe in a rigid form of training for all men?”
“Not at all. I have arrived at a point in life when I firmly believe the old saw: ‘What’s one man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ You can’t put a bunch of men in training and force them all to conform to set and rigid rules with the best result. Above everything else, a runner must have some love for his work and a great ambition to excel. Then he should study himself and find out just the sort of work that agrees with him in training. He should not shirk. He should take all he can stand without injury. He should consult with his trainer, and the trainer must have discernment and sense enough not to underwork or overwork that man. It requires a trainer of mighty keen discernment to determine just what is best for a bunch of five or six men with different natures, different habits, and varying ability. It’s likely you have done well in engaging an English trainer, as the English excel in this style of running. How often has he sent the men cross country?”
“Only twice thus far. He says he can get the best out of them by working them on the track where he can watch them. He’s a good runner himself, but in going cross country he cannot watch all the men, you know.”
Merriwell looked mildly surprised, opened his mouth to speak, then closed his lips and remained silent.
Hodge also betrayed surprise, but maintained the silent demeanor that had made him non-conspicuous since entering the observatory.
Proctor was too shrewd not to note Frank’s action.
“What were you thinking of saying, Merriwell?” he asked.
“Oh, not much,” answered Frank.
The runners had now turned the shoulder near the clubhouse, and all leaned over the rail to watch them as they passed the long, low bathhouse, which was also the residence of the track master.
After a moment, Proctor said: