Hammond accepted Ferry Hill’s challenge to a dual track meet with alacrity, and, as Dick had hoped they would, suggested that it be held on the Hammond oval. The only thing that Dick didn’t like was the choice of dates offered, May 12 and June 16. The Hammond manager explained that on other Saturday afternoons either the track team had meets or the oval would be in use by the base-ball team. Dick would have preferred a date about the last of May could he have had his choice. Five of the more promising members of the team were members of the base-ball nine as well, and Dick had that fact to bear in mind. It would be impossible for them to take part in a meet after the first of June, for then the important contests on the diamond began, notably the three games with Hammond.

Dick and Sid and the manager of the rival team had a conference in Silver Cove one afternoon, and the former were forced to agree on the twelfth of May as the date of the meeting, since the June date was out of the question for Ferry Hill and Hammond had no other dates to offer. I fancy the Hammond representative wondered why Ferry Hill had sent her manager along to the conference, because he took practically no part in the proceedings save to agree instantly and enthusiastically with whatever Dick said. All details were arranged, and Dick returned to Ferry Hill very well satisfied with everything save the time agreed upon.

“The trouble is, Sid,” he explained, “that it will take tall hustling to get the team in any kind of shape by that time. It’s too early. However, there’s no help for it and we’ll just have to do the best we can. We’ll get up some sort of a class meet for the middle of April and handicap games for some day about a week ahead of the Hammond meet. The fellows have got to have some experience in real competitions. You and I, Sid, are going to be two busy little boys from now on.”

And Sid looked grave and held himself half an inch taller.

A couple of days later the track team was picked. They had been at work out of doors for over a fortnight and Dick and Mr. Cobb had had opportunities to judge of the fellows’ performances. There had been a few defections during the period of indoor drudgery, but on the whole the candidates had stood by the cause very well. After the cut fifteen fellows were left and they represented what Mr. Cobb and Dick Somes considered the pick of athletic ability. The team, then, as finally chosen, consisted of Chase, Cole, Cullum, Eaton, Fernald, Glidden, Harris, Kirby, Porter, Post, Pryor, Somes, Townsend, Walker, and Warren; and Manager Sidney Welch, of course. Sid had struggled gamely for a place on the team, first trying to run the mile, then having a fling at hurdles and finally striving to distinguish himself at the broad jump. But his weight was against him and Dick was forced to limit Sid’s participation in affairs to his managerial duties, and as Dick attended to most of those himself Sid wasn’t overworked at any time that spring.

On the whole the team promised to be fairly good; Mr. Cobb acknowledged in April that his first judgment had been hasty. In the distances there were four runners: Somes, Chase, Warren, and Townsend, all of whom were doing very creditable work. Perhaps there was some disappointment over Dick himself, for the story had spread throughout the school that he was a wonder at the mile and his present performances were not vindicating that reputation. But probably the fact that he had so many affairs to attend to told against his track prowess. He didn’t seem to do any troubling about it, anyhow, and it was very generally agreed that if he continued to make as good a captain as he did at present he would be doing his full duty. There was one real find, however, to delight Dick’s heart. And that was Mr. Thomas H. Eaton, familiarly known as Chub. Chub was doing great work in the 100-yards dash and very creditable in the two-twenty. Running him close in the former event was Walker, while at the longer distance Post was showing up well and promised to become a fine sprinter in time. For the middle distances there were Roy, Pryor and Kirby, none of them above the average. Kirby was also hurdling and he and Glidden were showing up fairly well. The pole vault had but one performer, Cullum of the Second Middle. Walker and Cole were making hard work of the jumps, and in the weight events Post, Harris and Fernald were struggling for supremacy.

The class meet was held the middle of April and, although no remarkable records were established, it accomplished what it was intended to and familiarized the participants with the work. The First Senior Class had no trouble in winning the contest.

The purchase of such necessary things as jumping and vaulting standards, poles, hurdles, shots and hammers had left very little of the original sum subscribed, and so each member of the team was obliged either to buy his own costume or be content with whatever he happened to have that would answer. Most of them, however, were too eager to appear in the white trunks with brown stripes down the legs and white shirts crossed by a brown ribbon bearing the letters F. H. T. T. to begrudge the cost, and long before the handicap games came off more than a dozen such costumes could be counted on the athletic field of an afternoon. It almost broke Sid’s heart not to be able to sport the track regalia, but he found balm for his sorrow in a nice little brown cloth cap bearing the “F. H. T. T.” in front.

Meanwhile the base-ball season had begun and Ferry Hill was reaping a harvest of unimportant victories over early-season antagonists. Things promised well this spring for the nine, and Chub was in fine feather. And so, by the way, was Sid, for he was holding his place in left field against all comers and learning to bat with the best of them. Green Academy and Pottsville High and Prentice Military came and saw and acknowledged defeat, falling victim to the elusive curves of Post or Kirby. And April was half gone and the affairs of the F. H. S. I. S. claimed scant attention from its members. Or so, at least, Roy and Chub thought until one morning they received formal notices in Harry’s writing to the effect that there would be a meeting of the society the following evening at eight o’clock—“a full attendance desired.” A full attendance was obtained. There wasn’t a member absent when Dick began proceedings by producing some sheets of foolscap from his pocket.

“The president and secretary-treasurer of the society,” began Dick with a smile, “have been getting busy on their own hooks lately, without authority from the majority. When I’ve got through telling you what we’ve been up to you can move a vote of censure if you like—”

“I move it right now,” interrupted Chub.

“—And as presiding officer I’ll rule it out of order.”

“Isn’t he haughty?” asked Chub admiringly.

“Go ahead and ’fess up,” said Roy. “I thought you two were up to something last month, but since then I’ve kind of forgotten all about it.”

“Then I suppose you haven’t thought out a scheme to get that thirty thousand?” asked Dick. Roy shook his head. “And how about you, Chub?”

“Me? Bless you, I’ve been too busy thinking up schemes how to hit Post’s in-shoots.”

“Well,” said Dick, “Harry and I have done the best we could. It didn’t seem advisable to ask the Doctor for the names of the graduates. To tell the truth, I was afraid he’d forbid us to go ahead with the scheme. So Harry and I have been prospecting around ourselves and we’ve managed to get hold of the names and addresses of fourteen men who have graduated from here. We’re not sure about all the addresses, but I guess we can reach them in time. Now what I propose to do is to send personal letters to each of them and tell them just what we want to do and ask them how much they’ll be willing to subscribe to set the ball rolling. We’ve fixed up a letter here and I’ll read it to you in a minute. Of course, we may not get a cent this way; it’s one of those forlorn hopes that Roy was talking about.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that time that a ‘forlorn hope’ was a ‘touch’?” asked Chub aggrievedly.

“To have the thing look right,” Dick continued, “we ought to have some stationery printed, I think; just ‘Ferry Hill School Improvement Society, Silver Cove, N. Y., Office of the Secretary and Treasurer’; something like that. What do you think?”

“Sounds like the real thing,” answered Roy.

“Sure,” added Chub. “If you wrote me a letter on that sort of paper I’d be so pleased I’d want to mortgage the house and send the money to you.”

“I think it would be perfectly dandy!” said Harry. “Let’s do it.”

“Moved and carried,” announced Chub. “Let’s hear the letter, Dick. I’ll bet if you wrote it it’s a corker!”

“We wrote it between us,” answered Dick. Harry tried her best not to look vain, but couldn’t smother the gratified smile that insisted on showing itself. “Here it is.” Dick opened the folded sheets of foolscap and began to read.

Dick folded the letter and looked inquiringly about him. For a moment there was no comment. Chub sat with his mouth wide open and a countenance expressing awed and speechless admiration. Even Roy was apparently too much impressed to speak. Harry waited self-consciously. Finally,

“Well,” asked Dick, “any suggestions?”

“Not a one,” said Roy.

“Suggestions!” cried Chub, suddenly finding his voice. “Why, that’s the swellest thing I ever heard! If that doesn’t fetch ’em—why—why we don’t want their dirty old money! Talk about your language! There’s more language there than I ever saw before in one pile!”

“This isn’t a silly joke,” protested Dick shortly. “If you think that letter can be improved on, why, say so, but don’t get funny.”

“It can’t,” said Roy with conviction.

“No, sir,” agreed Chub.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Dick with a sigh of relief. “If we’ve been over that thing once we’ve been over it twenty times. Haven’t we, Harry?”

“Yes,” answered Harry. “I know it by heart, every word of it!” She closed her eyes. “‘The Ferry Hill School Improvement Society has been recently formed for the purpose of advancing the int—’”

“We’ll take your word for it,” laughed Roy. “Who’s going to write out fourteen letters, Dick?”

“You, because you write better than any one else.”

“Pshaw,” said Chub, “they ought to be typewritten.”

“That’s so,” Dick agreed. “I didn’t think of that. It won’t cost much.”

“Seems to me,” said Roy, “we’re going to spend a lot of money and maybe we won’t get any in return. We’ll have to pay for printing, paper, and envelops, typewriting the letters, and for stamps. How much have we got, anyhow?”

“Printing and typewriting won’t cost much,” said Dick. “Not over four dollars; and we’ll only need twenty-eight cents’ worth of stamps. And we’ve got—how much have we got in the treasury, Harry?”

“Sixty-four dollars and ten cents,” answered Harry very promptly. “Twenty-four dollars and ten cents in money and a check for forty dollars. Chub still owes ninety cents.”

“So I do,” murmured Chub embarrassedly. “I’d forgotten.”

“Well, that’s plenty,” said Dick. “We’ll get the printing and typewriting done right away so we can mail the letters by Saturday. You’d better let me have about five dollars, Harry, and I’ll give you an account of what I spend.”

“You must give me a receipt then,” answered Harry, doubtfully, as she slid off the grain chest.

“All right,” Dick laughed. “There’s nothing like doing things in a business-like way. You and I’ll go over to Silver Cove to-morrow noon, Chub, and—”

But Dick’s further remarks were lost for there was a sudden exclamation of tragic dismay from Harry where, unnoticed by the boys, she had climbed to a box under one of the old rafters.

“What’s the matter?” cried Roy.

“It’s gone!” wailed Harry.

“Gone? What? Where?”

“The money! I put it up here for safe keeping and now it’s gone! It’s been stolen! And—and I’ve betrayed my trust!”