So well was the secret of Lanny’s injury kept that few knew of it until his appearance at the field on Tuesday. It had been known that Lanny had been spiked in blocking the plate, but it was not supposed that he had been seriously hurt, and the sight of him swinging a stiff left leg about with the aid of a crutch came as a big surprise. Even then, however, Lanny laughingly denied that he was badly injured. “Just a couple of scratches,” he said, “but they make my leg sort of stiff while they’re healing. And I don’t want to take any chances, you know.”
That sounded all right, but by Thursday the truth somehow got out and the school in general, by this time quite enthusiastic over the dual meet, discussed it with dismay and disappointment. With Lanny out of the meet Clearfield had, they decided, absolutely no chance of victory, and fellows who had intended to remain at home and view Springdale’s defeat on cinders and turf now decided to accompany the baseball team on Saturday. “No good staying around here and seeing Springdale lick the stuffing out of us. Let’s go over there and root for the Nine.”
Fudge was one who predicted overwhelming defeat for the Purple. He figured it out for Mr. Addicks and Perry one day and proved conclusively that the best possible score for Clearfield was thirty-two points. “And that,” explained Fudge, “means that we’ll have to get eight points in the hammer-throw.”
“Maybe,” said Perry, “we’ll make a better showing than we expect, Fudge. Mander almost equaled Felker’s record at the pole-vault yesterday.”
“That’s all right,” replied Fudge firmly. “I’ve allowed us six points in the pole-vault. We’re going to get licked good and hard. I’m sorry for Guy Felker, too. He’s worked pretty hard ever since last year. Remember how he got fellows out in the fall and made them work? Everyone laughed at him then, but if it wasn’t for Lanny getting hurt Guy would have shown them something. We’d have won easily if the meet had been last Saturday instead of next.”
“I’ve seen it happen more than once,” observed Mr. Addicks, “that a team with a heavy handicap has gone in and won. Seems like knowing you’ve got to work helps a heap sometimes. Don’t give in yet, Fudge.”
The last work for the Track Team came Thursday. There had been time-trials for the runners Monday and some pretty strenuous work for all hands on Wednesday, but Thursday’s practice was little more than a warming up. Mr. Addicks, however, wasn’t in favor of letting down too soon, and on Friday morning Perry was out on the track as usual and was put through his paces quite as vigorously as on any other morning. On Friday afternoon the track men went for a short run across country and that ended the season’s work.
While Clearfield still looked for a defeat on the morrow, it no longer conceded the meet to Springdale by any overwhelming majority of points, and there were others beside Arthur Beaton who even dared hope for a victory by a narrow margin. Captain Felker, however, was not one of these. Guy faced the inevitable grimly, determined to at least make a good showing. Lanny worked hard with the coaching and under his tuition the two hurdlers, Beaton and Peyton, showed improvement by Thursday. So far no inkling had reached Springdale of Lanny’s trouble and his name had been included in the list of Clearfield entrants which was sent to Springdale three days before the meet. Springdale’s list included thirty-one names and she had entered at least four fellows in each event. For the sprints and hurdles the number was six. Guy shook his head dismally over that list.
Saturday morning Perry slept late for the first time in many days, and after breakfast went over to Mr. Addicks’ rooms and listened to final instructions. He was a little bit jumpy to-day. When Mr. Addicks had delivered the last of his advice he suggested that Perry accompany him across the river and watch him work. “The walk will do you good,” he said. “If you get bored you can come back whenever you like.”