Three days later the fourteen letters, neatly typewritten on paper bearing the inscription “Ferry Hill School Improvement Society” printed across the top in impressively large and black type, and signed “Richard Somes, President,” were mailed to their destinations, and there was nothing for the members of the society to do but await results. The barn had been thoroughly searched by daylight, but the missing chamois bag with the society’s funds had not been found. The bank in New York had replied that Dick’s check had not been presented and that if it was it would not be honored. For the rest, the members accepted their losses philosophically, while Chub, to prove his faith in the treasurer, paid over to her on Saturday the sum of ninety cents. This, representing the entire assets of the society, Harry wore pinned inside of her dress, in an envelop. And for the first day she felt anxiously for it every few minutes.
April hurried along with uncertain skies and warm days, and Spring Vacation came and went. By the first of May the cinder track was in good hard condition and every afternoon the track team worked like Trojans, every fellow animated by the resolve to do his full share toward winning success in the meet with Hammond, now only a little more than a week distant. Dick grew more hopeful as the days passed, and after the handicap meeting on the Saturday before the Hammond games, he even dared think of the possibility of a victory over the rival school.
“I can figure it out on paper,” he told Roy, “so that we win by three points. But of course that means that every fellow must do a little bit better than he did to-day.”
Roy had won the quarter-mile from Pryor and Kirby with a small handicap and was consequently feeling pretty optimistic himself.
“I don’t believe Hammond’s team is so awfully good this year, anyhow,” he declared. “They lost four of their best men last spring, you know. If we were only a little better in the field events we might stand a pretty good show of winning, Dick.”
“I know, but you can look for Cole to do some good work next Saturday at the broad jump, and as for the hammer and shot, why, we’ve got just as good men as they have, I guess. It’s the hurdles and pole-vault that I’m worrying about. A chap can’t learn how to hurdle in two months. Both Kirby and Glidden were as slow as cold molasses to-day, and Kirby knocked down every bar except one in the two-twenty.”
“I thought you had Chase there in the mile for a while,” said Roy. “It looked to me as though you were going to pass him at the beginning of that last lap.”
“I thought so too,” answered Dick, “but he had more wind left than I had. I don’t know why it is, but I haven’t been able to do anything like my best this spring. I’ll have to get a move on next Saturday if I’m going to win a point. I’d feel like the dickens if I didn’t, you know.”
“Don’t you worry,” answered Roy. “You’ll do all right.”