After dinner he spent a few minutes in the office, but his straightforward denial convinced Doctor Emery of his innocence. The affair remained a mystery, although Chub professed to have no doubts in the matter.
"Nobody but Horace would think of such a thing," he asserted. "And if Harry had any sense she'd know it."
But Harry was apparently firmly convinced of Roy's guilt and all he received from that young lady during the next week was black looks.
Meanwhile an event of much interest to the school was approaching and the incident of the white rabbits was soon forgotten by it. Every year, on the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day, was held the Cross Country Run. There was a cup for the individual winner and a cup for the class five of whose entries finished first. Ferry Hill had developed cross country running into something of a science. The annual event always awakened much interest and the rivalry between the four classes was intense.
There were no handicaps, all entries starting together from the steps of the gymnasium, taking off north-east for three miles to the village of Carroll, from there to a neighboring settlement called Findlayburg and so home by the road to the gymnasium, a total distance of six miles. At Carroll and Findlayburg they were registered by the instructors. In deference to the cross country event Thanksgiving dinner was postponed until evening. It was customary for the football players to remain in training for the run, and this year they had all done so with the exception of Forrest, Gallup and Burlen, whose weights kept them out of the contest. No one was prohibited from entering and even the youngest boy in school was down for the start. One year the junior class had captured the cup and ever since then succeeding junior classes had striven mightily.
As always there were favorites, and this year Chub, Roy and a Middle Class boy named Townsend were considered to have the best chances. Roy himself was doubtful of his prowess, for, while he could sprint and even do a quarter of a mile in good time, he had never tried long-distance running. But Chub gave him a lot of good advice, assured him that he stood a good chance to win and ended up with: "Anyhow, it's the best training in the world and will do you a whole lot of good even if you don't get the cup." So for a week preceding the day of the contest the countryside was sprinkled with boys panting up the hills, loping through the woods and trotting doggedly along the frosty road. And at two o'clock on Thanksgiving Day afternoon thirty-four boys awaited the word in front of the gymnasium.
CHAPTER X
THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE
There were boys of all ages between twelve and eighteen in the group which awaited the word from Horace Burlen. And there were all kinds and descriptions of costumes. It was a frosty nippy day, cloudy and with occasional gusts of wind, but nevertheless several of the runners wore cotton running trunks and short stockings, and the expanse of bare leg between hose and trunk required lots of rubbing and slapping to keep the blood in circulation. Others were warmly attired in knickerbockers and sweaters. Roy had taken Chub's advice in the matter of apparel, and wore short trousers, woolen stockings, his crimson sweater and a pair of spiked running shoes. Chub was similarly dressed, as was Jack Rogers and a number of others. The Juniors had evolved a wonderful plan whereby certain of their runners were to save themselves until the final turn toward home and were then to pitch in and beat everything in sight, and they were gathered in a group plotting excitedly in whispers. Sid Welch was asking every fellow who would pay attention to him whether he thought he could last through the race. Sid had worn off eight pounds during the football season, but had already begun, greatly to his despair, to put them back again. Chub told him that if he'd run the last part of the race backwards he might finish—some day. And Jack assured him that they would see that dinner was kept warm for him.