“And yet if I left we might lose this contest. I wonder what is better to do? Delay, in case dad sends for me, and help Randall win, which may mean that I’m down and out afterward, or take a chance on Randall losing, so I can come back? Pshaw! Of course I’ve got to help win, no matter if I can’t come back. And yet for dad to lose all that money——”
“Hang it all! I don’t know what to do!” burst out Tom. “I’m not going to think any more about it. I’ll wait until the time comes, and if dad does telegraph, I’ll tell the boys about it, and see what they say.”
Then Tom resolutely put the affair as much out of his thoughts as he could, for he found it interfering with his practice and training, and he knew that he must bend every energy to win the mile run.
The practice went on unceasingly. The weather cleared, being finer than ever, and the candidates went out on the track and field.
Meanwhile Holly and Kindlings had composed a letter to the proper authorities of the Amateur Athletic Union, asking a ruling on Frank’s case. Nothing more had been heard from Shambler, excepting that he had sent for his baggage, and it was surmised that he had quietly taken himself to parts unknown.
It was Wednesday afternoon, and Tom, coming from the gymnasium, after a refreshing shower, following a hard spell of practice in all-around work, was met by Wallops.
“Oh, Mr. Parsons,” said the messenger, “there was a young man looking for you, with a package a while ago. I couldn’t find you, so I sent him to your room with it. I guess he left it.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a telegram?” asked our hero anxiously, thinking of his father’s lawsuit.
“No, it was a package. It came by express, he said.”