"They mentioned the academy here. I am afraid that Brady has some plan concerning Ned Foreman."
"Say, Frank, it looks that way," declared Bob thoughtfully. "Why don't you tell Ned about it?"
"I don't want to worry him until I find out something more."
"I'll get on the track of that old cabin and those men first chance I have," promised Bob. "Say, Frank, I was coming to tell you I've just done a big thing, Dean Ritchie says."
"What is it, Bob?"
"You know we are going to have a baseball game and some other matches to-morrow."
"Yes, I know," nodded Frank.
"Well, there's a foot race scheduled. The crack runner of our crowd, Purtelle, is out of trim, and they were looking for a substitute. I don't want to brag, but about the one thing in the athletic line I can do well is running."
"Then you must try to fill the bill."
"I'm going to. Ritchie asked me to give them a test. It's a long-distance spurt—twice around the track over in the meadow where they train their horses on the stock farm. I made the sample run just now. I don't know but what the crowd were guying me, but they seemed to go wild over it."