“Who, me? I can never beat the Exter man in the jump,” asserted Sid.
“Say, don’t you talk back to me!” retorted Kindlings, and there was a new note in his voice. “I tell you you’re going to do it! Where’s Parsons?”
“Here,” answered Tom meekly.
“You get into practice quick for that mile run,” ordered Dan. “You’ve got to do it. Sid, get into your togs at once. Holly, come on out and hold the watch on Tom. I’ll see Moses and make it all right about lectures. We’re in a hole and we’ve got to pull ourselves out.”
At once it seemed as if new spirit had settled down over Randall. There had been gloom, following the withdrawal of Shambler and Frank, but with the manly way in which Kindlings met the situation the skies seemed to clear.
It was the only way out of the dilemma. But everyone knew that, at best, it was but a slim chance. Neither Tom nor Sid were brilliant performers, though that is not saying they were to be despised, by any means. Their talents simply lay in other directions than track athletics. Yet they were not far behind Frank and Shambler in the two events. They needed hard training, however, and the question was, could they get in form in the short time left?
“They’ve got to!” declared Kindlings grimly. “It’s going to be train—train—train! from now to the minute of the games. It means a lot of practice—hard practice. Oh, if we only had a week more! Why didn’t this come a little sooner?”
“Is there any chance of getting a postponement?” asked Phil. “I think under the circumstances we’re entitled to it.”
“Entitled to it, yes, maybe,” assented Dan, “but we won’t crawl by asking for it. We’ll take our medicine, and take it like men, and, what’s more, we’ll turn the trick, too!”
The squad of athletes was ordered out soon after the momentous meeting. Dr. Churchill met the situation squarely. He gave the boys all the leeway needed in the matter of attending lectures, and wrote a personal letter to the heads of Exter, Boxer Hall and Fairview, expressing regret at the turn of affairs.