Arthur Huntley, ready for the start, came through the room from another.
“Oh! make sure your shoes are all right, Mr. Merriwell!” he mentally exclaimed. “Lots of good it will do you! I’ve taken no chances on you to-day. I know you’ve found the cut over Ragged Hill, and my two sandbaggers wait for you at the break in the wall. I don’t trust Hollingsworth, for all of his certificate story. You may start, but you’ll never finish.”
A whistle sounded. A voice called the runners to come forth.
The hour had arrived!
Herbert Hollingsworth was waiting. The judges were assembled in the clubhouse. As the runners passed through, Merriwell was spoken to by an official.
“Mr. Merriwell, you are the only one who has failed to show a certificate of registration in the A. A. U., according to the requirements. We have been informed this morning that you are not registered.”
“The statement is false,” retorted Frank quietly. “Who made it?”
“Never mind that. If you have your certificate it will settle the point.”
“I have it, but not with me. Will you take my word for it and permit me to show the certificate after the contest?”
“Impossible, for you are challenged.”