"We're making about three miles and a half an hour," Dick responded.
"But will that be work enough to make us as hard as nails?" persisted
Darry.
"We're getting over the ground as fast as the troops of the regular army usually travel," Prescott rejoined. "I believe our regulars are generally regarded as rather perfect specimens in the walking line. We might move along at a speed of six miles, and might keep it up for an hour. Then we'd be footsore, and all in. If the first hour didn't do it, the second hour would. But if we plug along in this deliberate fashion, and get over fifteen, eighteen or twenty miles a day, and keep it up, I don't believe any one of you fellows will complain, September first, that he isn't as hard and solid as he wants to be—-even for bucking the football lines, of other high schools."
"I know that I can be satisfied with this gait," murmured Reade.
"If Darry wants to move faster," suggested Hazelton, "why not tell him where to wait for us, and let him gallop ahead?"
"I'll stay with the rest of you," Darry retorted. "All I want to make sure of is that we're going to get the most out of our training work this summer."
"I'll tell you what you might do, Dave, by way of extra exercise and hardening," offered Tom.
"What?" asked Dave suspiciously.
"I believe we're going to halt every hour for a brief rest"
"Yes."