Gerald considered. At last, with a sigh:
“Gee, I guess I must have,” he said, sadly. “Why, I’ve done better than that across country!”
That trial put Gerald in the dumps for a day or two, and it was all he could do to resist the temptation to run another at once. But he didn’t. Instead he buckled down earnestly to work, and followed his schedule. Sometimes he doubted the wisdom of that schedule; but, having adopted it, he determined to stick to it. There was one day, less than a week after that disappointing time-trial, when he finished the mile in what—though he had no evidence to support him—he was very certain was at least a quarter of a minute under that five-twenty-one and two. If it was, he reflected, there was hope for him, for Maury’s best was a fraction under five-four, while Goodyear was credited with no better than ten seconds over the minutes. That brought encouragement.
For awhile the school in general displayed not a little interest in Gerald’s undertaking, and his appearance on the cinders of an afternoon resulted in quite an audience to watch him at work. But the novelty soon wore off, and after a fortnight he ceased to excite comment. Captain Maury’s attitude remained the same. Maury had no faith in the results to be attained by self-training, and secretly thought Gerald rather “fresh” and decidedly silly. Andy Ryan looked on inscrutably, but on more than one occasion Gerald had reason to believe that the trainer was holding the watch on him. Only once did Andy offer criticism or encouragement. Then, as Gerald passed him after a three-quarters of a mile run, he observed:
“Let your arms swing free, Pennimore; don’t get them in front of you.”
Perhaps Tom was of more assistance than any one else to Gerald at that time. Arthur took a deal of interest, and offered all the encouragement he knew how, and Dan and Alf were always sympathetic, but Arthur knew little of track work, and Dan and Alf were much too busy with baseball to have much time for any other interest. But Tom, although he had never done any track work, had seen a lot of it, and had very sensible ideas on the subject; and he and Gerald had long chats in Number 7 after practice was over in the afternoon.
“It’s only about the first of the month,” he said one day, “and the Duals don’t come until the twenty-third, Gerald. That gives you a good three weeks yet, so don’t be discouraged. You’ll come faster the last ten days or so than you have at any time, I guess. At least, that’s the way it is with me. Why, I haven’t tossed that hammer a hundred and thirty yet, and my record’s a hundred and thirty-six and two inches. But I’m not worrying about it, because I’ve learned by experience that it takes just about so long to get back into condition again. A fellow’s muscles get set in the winter, and they’ve got to be coaxed back into shape before they’ll do what you want them to. I don’t expect to equal my record at hammer or shot either more than once before the Duals, and that will probably be only a day or two before. You’ll find that it will be much the same with you, I think, Gerald. If you keep on you’re bound to get a little better every day until, by the twenty-third, you’ll be in top shape. If you can do the mile under five-six in a trial a week before that, you can count on bettering your time by several seconds in the race. By the way, I suppose you haven’t heard Collins say anything about letting you off?”
“No.” Gerald shook his head sadly. “And I don’t like to ask him, Tom. But wouldn’t you think that a month of probation would be enough?”
“Um, yes; but you can’t tell. Maybe, after all, they’d have been easier with you if the rest of us had fessed up. Still, it would have played hob with the Track Team, I guess.”
“I should say so! With you and Arthur and Roeder off it might mean a loss of fifteen or twenty points!”