The cheers broke forth anew as Herc, instead of landing in a heap, came to earth gracefully on his feet. He had not sustained the least injury, a fact which he soon demonstrated to the judges and other officials of the track who crowded about him.
"I tell you, it's that blamed secret of theirs," growled Chance, turning pale.
"We'd better get out of here," warned Merritt hastily. "Look, they are examining the pole. I imagine that they'll find it was cut."
"I imagine so, too," said Chance, in a low, rather frightened tone, as the unworthy two hastened off. "But they can't prove anything on me," he added defiantly.
In the meantime Herc had selected another pole. He examined it carefully and found it perfect. Bracing himself for the effort of his life, he essayed the jump once more.
He sailed over the bar as gracefully as a soaring sea gull.
"Chance is tied! Taylor's tied him!" yelled the crowd.
"Good boy, Herc," whispered Ned, as Herc prepared for a fresh effort. "Now this time beat him, and beat him good."
Herc set his teeth grimly. His usually good-natured face held an expression very foreign to it.
"I'll do it," he said. "And then," he added significantly, "I've got another job to attend to."