Dick, secretly pleased at the impression he had made, determined to give Allen a still greater surprise. Promptly forgetting what he had heard Mr. Fenton tell Ellis, he braced his muscles, made a quick, long hop, tried to turn, caught his foot in the toe-board, and measured his length upon the field. Allen roared. "Oh, bully, Randall," he cried, "I wouldn't have missed that for money. 'Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself.' That's you, all right. Didn't hurt yourself, did you?"
Dick, picking himself up, grinned a little ruefully, as he contemplated the grass-stains which decorated the knees of his trousers. "No," he answered; "I didn't, but I surprised myself a little. I was going to show you something right in Ellis' class that time. I guess I'll own up that's one on me. I'm going to try that high jump, though. That's one thing I did use to do when I was a kid. I don't believe I'll break my neck on that."
They walked over to the jumping standards. "How high will you have her?" Allen asked.
Dick smiled. "Oh, I'm cautious now," he rejoined. "Put her at four feet. Maybe I can do that, if I haven't forgotten how."
Allen adjusted the bar. Dick backed away from the standards, measured the distance with his eye, and ran down the path, increasing his speed with his last three bounds. Then, easily and without effort, he shot up into the air, sailed high over the bar, and landed safely in the pit beyond. Allen gasped. "Good Heavens, Randall," he exclaimed; "what have I struck? Why, man, you went over that by a foot. You've got an awful spring."
Dick laughed. "Well, I had to do something to make up for the shot," he said. "But, honestly, it did feel good. I haven't jumped for a long time, though I used to be pretty fair; or at least they thought so at home. But that doesn't count for very much; it's a big world."
While they stood talking, the door of the dressing-room swung open, and Ellis came out, followed by two or three of his friends. As they passed Allen turned. "Say, Dave," he called; "did you hear about the new Pentathlon champion?"
Ellis stopped. "What's the joke?" he asked, not over pleasantly.
Allen laid a hand on Randall's shoulder. "It isn't any joke," he replied; "Randall here. He's just been beating all your marks. You won't have a show with him by next spring."
