So Wayne jogged. He rather liked it to-day. There was something soothing in the pat-pat of the runners’ shoes on the floor. His breath came easily, and as he went around he could look down occasionally upon the heads of the fellows below: at Dave who was going through the most extraordinary antics with a leather-covered shot (Dave always had recourse to the shot when he could not lay hold of a hammer); at Don and Professor Beck, the former emphasizing his words by digging the toe of his gymnasium shoe into the mattress in front of the vaulting standard; at a string of fellows at the far side of the building and under the track who were exercising with the wooden dumb-bells; at the little group of idle boys at the doorway; and as he made the turns he could glance through the high and broad windows and catch glimpses of the frozen river and far-stretching snow-covered marshes.
Presently Professor Beck and Don parted company, the latter joining the squad at dumb-bell exercise and the former fixing the standard for the pole vaulters, two of whom were soon at work taking low flights. There was something very attractive about the way in which the two white-clad and lithe-bodied youngsters gripped the long poles and rose gracefully into the air to drop noiselessly to the mattress beyond the crossbar, and Wayne became so interested in the performance that he forgot to run and had to be recalled to a recollection of his duty by Morris, who gave him a playful kick as he jogged by.
But the half mile was soon finished, and Wayne left the track, descended the stairs, and sought the director, who was busy instructing Dave and two others in the matter of holding the shot. After a moment he turned to Wayne.
“How do you feel, Gordon?”
“Fine, sir.”
“Think you could run another half-mile?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Good; but don’t try it. I guess you’ve done enough for to-day. Take a tepid shower now and rub yourself down well with your hands before drying. And, by the way, let me tell you what I mean by a shower. I don’t mean that you must turn on the water and stand under it until your teeth chatter; but get under it and get out again—slip through it, as it were. Remember that as long as you’re in training, Gordon. Too much bathing is worse than none for weakening you. I don’t mind telling you that we are going to have need of just such a runner as I hope you will turn out to be. You’ve got a little work ahead of you, and there are certain regulations which may seem a trifle irksome at first; but I hope you’ll persevere; you’ve got a good incentive to train hard and conscientiously. And when you get tired or out of sorts, why, take a rest. You can’t rest too much when you’re training; only make sure that you are resting and not loafing. Both Cunningham and I expect a good deal from you, Gordon; hope you won’t disappoint us.”
“I’ll try not to, sir, although I haven’t much faith in myself as an athlete, you know.”
“That’ll come after you’ve done something; of course it’s all new to you yet, and there’s a good bit to learn, but I’m sure you’ll make a go of it. And you’ll like it better when you can get out of doors. Meanwhile don’t overeat, get a good nine hours of sleep, and don’t let yourself get tired. And if you want to ask any questions you’ll find me here, you know.”