Frank went back the full length of the runway, started at an easy lope and gathering full speed fifty feet from the end of his run struck the block squarely, and sprang high into the air. He had the feeling that it was a good jump but was not prepared for what the measuring tape showed—22 feet, 8 inches.
"That's better," said the tall stranger. "But I want you to go even higher than that. Clear the hurdle by a foot or more if you can. Get your greatest speed right at the take-off and think high as well as go high."
Again Frank rushed down the runway and leaped with all his power, clearing the hurdle by a foot or more. By this time half a dozen of the members of the team were gathered by the jumping pit. Recognizing a good jump, one of them seized the tape and measured:
"Twenty-three feet, one-half inch," he sang out. "Well, maybe we have a chance for that jump yet. Good boy, Armstrong."
Twice more the stranger sent Frank down the runway and each time the jumper rose to expectations. On the last jump the tape showed 23 feet, 1½ inches.
"Now, we'll take the hurdle away, but you must think it is there," continued the coach. "Have it in your mind as you come up to the block that you are going away above the imaginary mark. Jumping is a matter of brains as much as of legs. Try it without the hurdle."
This time Frank almost equaled his former jump, and as the figures were announced, his teammates crowded around him, congratulating him.
"That's the stuff, Armstrong," said Trainer Black. "You may throw a scare into these Englishmen if you keep up that gait."
"Who is that man coaching me?" inquired Frank, a little later.
"That, didn't you know? That's Princewell, an intercollegiate champion of ours a few years back, one of the best in the business in his day."