“I’ll try and think of another verse,” said Dan. “But I don’t think I’ll work in anything about dents and splints, Alf. Besides, that doesn’t sound very well coming from the captain. Remember that you’re a gentleman.”
“He knows better than that; don’t you?” said Tom.
“I know I’ll roll you around in the dust if you don’t shut up, you old Pudding Head!” answered Alf truculently.
“Come on, you fellows,” interrupted Dan. “We haven’t any time for scrapping if we’re going to get there to see the start.”
“How far do they run?” asked Tom.
“About three miles,” replied Dan, as he climbed the fence and jumped down into the road. “They start at the corner beyond the bridge, take the Broadwood road and circle back beyond Greenburg and finish at the bridge again.”
“Is that the route when they run against Broadwood?” Alf inquired as they went on toward the Wissining station.
“Yes, only then they’ll start at the Cider Mill and finish a mile beyond toward Broadwood, and that makes it a mile longer.”
“Suppose little Geraldine will have any show?”
“I don’t know, Alf. He’s been at it ever since school began, though. He asked me if I thought he could make a cross-country runner and I told him to go ahead and try. I knew it wouldn’t do him a bit of harm, anyway, and he was sort of sore because Bendix wouldn’t pass him for football.”