“And you’ll never get it, I’m afraid,” said Kindlings under his breath. Still he could not help but admire the persistency of “the grasshopper.”
There was much interest in the one hundred and twenty yard hurdle race, and this promised to be one of the best events on the card.
The new pieces of apparatus were used, and worked well. Phil Clinton came out ahead, but Joe Jackson was a close second. When it came to picking third there was hard work, for Sam Looper, Dan Woodhouse, Kindlings and Sid Henderson were so well bunched that it was hard to decide, and the six were put down as possible starters against the rival colleges.
In the high jump Berry Foster was first, with Jim Weston second and Paul Hughes third. Dutch Housenlager, with his big bunches of muscles easily won the palm at throwing the fifty-six pound weight, Dan Woodhouse being second and Bean Perkins, who said it would not interfere with his shouting abilities, coming out third.
Phil Clinton easily distanced the others at the pole vaulting contest, Red Warren being second and Holly Cross third; while at putting the sixteen pound shot, Dan Woodhouse won, with Frank Simpson second and Sid as a good third.
“Now that we’ve got this much settled we can come somewhere knowing where we’re at,” declared Holly, after the final try-outs. “This doesn’t mean that none of you fellows haven’t a chance,” he hastened to add, “for we may need any one of you yet, so keep in training.”
“Well, I’m glad this much is over,” remarked Tom, as he joined his three chums, who were walking toward the gymnasium for a welcome shower bath.
“Same here!” cried a voice behind them, and Shambler came running up. “Say,” he cried, “I wish the games were to-morrow, instead of a week or more off. I’m as fit as a fiddle!”
In what was probably the exuberance of his animal spirits he came running up, and, with a leap landed on Frank’s back.