Fudge came in before they got started and went along. Fudge was about as nervous as a block of wood. He was very full of the impending affair but quite untroubled. The only thing that seemed to really matter to Fudge was his chance of beating Falkland in the hammer-throw. Whether he out-tossed the Springdale fellows apparently failed to bother him. The boys remained with Mr. Addicks until the middle of the morning, and then, extracting a promise from him that he would attend the meet, they returned across the river and, a little later, witnessed the departure of the ball team for Springdale, doing their share of the cheering as the special trolley-car moved away from the Square. After all, only a small number of fellows accompanied the Nine, most of them, for one reason or another, deciding to stand by the Track Team. Dinner was early to-day and Perry was far from hungry. But Fudge, who had accepted Mrs. Hull’s invitation, did full justice to the viands, as observed wonderingly and rather enviously by his host.
The program was to start at two-thirty and long before that the two boys were dressed and waiting. The day was fair and hot, unseasonably hot for so early in June. By a little after two the stands were already well sprinkled with spectators. The Springdale team was late in arriving and it was almost twenty minutes to three when the entrants in the hundred-yards-dash were summoned to the starting line. Perry, who had been restlessly circulating about the field for a half-hour, followed the others with his heart thumping uncomfortably. It suddenly occurred to him that he was about to take part in his first real race, and that his effort was to be witnessed by nearly a thousand persons. He looked across the field and down it to the crowded stands, where purple and blue pennants made spots of color in the hot sunlight, and for a moment wished himself far away. Then the names were being called for the first heat and he forgot the watchers. To his relief, he was not summoned. Neither was Lanny. Kirke and Soper were on the track with three Springdale runners when the whistle was blown. There was a minute of silence. Then the starter’s voice sounded crisply.
“Ready!... Set!...”
The pistol barked.
CHAPTER XXV
SPRINGDALE LEADS
“Go it, Kirke!”
Perry turned to find Lanny at his elbow, Lanny enveloped in a brown bath-robe and minus his crutch. Then the shouts of the crowd at the finish drew Perry’s gaze down the track again as the flying figures crossed the line. From back there it was hard to say who had been placed, but presently, as the sprinters returned, Lanny hurried stiffly to meet Kirke.
“All right, Orson?” called Lanny. Kirke shook his head, smiling and panting.
“I’m out,” he answered. “Soper’s placed, though. I was fourth.”