"Past him—huzzah!"
The spectators held their breath. Never had the boys of Bellwood School witnessed so sensational a foot race.
Bob Upton flew like the wind. He was five—ten—twenty yards in the lead of his laboring antagonist.
His face was colorless as he crossed the starting line. A flash of triumph was in his eyes, but Frank saw that he was reeling. Our hero sprang forward just in time to catch the falling champion in his outstretched arms—the winner of the race.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TRAMP AGAIN
"He's in a dead faint—give him air," ordered Dean Ritchie.
"Get a dipper of water," said Frank quickly, letting Bob slip gently to the grass.
There was a pump just beyond the enclosure. Ned ran to it, and soon Frank was sponging Bob's face with cool water.
"Who did it—and why?" spoke Bob suddenly and opening his eyes and sitting up.