CHAPTER II

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TRACK TROUBLE

Before the end of the first lap, Rodman Cree had quit. It could hardly be called his fault, because the elastic waistband which held up his running pants had snapped, and a further awkward gallop with his hands holding up the slipping garment proved futile. So he veered off the track.

"No use!" he laughed. "Besides, I'm not a runner, anyhow."

It was the laugh that brought the scowl to Spec's face. "Of course, it was not his fault," he grunted, "but why does he laugh about it? He's running for us to-day; he's our eighth man in the patrol. Doesn't he understand that we want to win?"

It had been rather a last-minute affair, this field day between the Black Eagles and Buck Claxton's team, which he had called the All-School; and it was Specs who had quite unconsciously started it all.

"I guess everybody knows," Specs had said in a loud, clear voice during the first morning's recess, "who it was that made this school possible."

"I don't!" snapped Buck Claxton. "Look here, if you Scouts think you're so much, I'll get together eight fellows who can beat you at baseball or football or track or anything else."

Though Bunny wished that Specs had spoken a little more modestly and in a great deal lower voice, he was not altogether sorry that the field meet had been arranged. Because a half-holiday had been declared, to enable the Citizens' Club of Elkana to inspect the new high school building, it was on Tuesday morning that the Scouts (plus Rodman Cree, to round out the eight mentioned in the challenge) clashed with the All-School team on field and track.

It was Bunny's idea that the field day might spread the Scout movement among the new fellows of the school, and especially among the following that Buck Claxton was rapidly acquiring. The leader of the Black Eagles felt, moreover, that they had been too much by themselves, and that a second patrol would not only wake them out of their clannishness, but that, in addition, it would keep them from sleeping on their laurels. And, of course, it was a splendid chance to see what they could do when pitted against boys slightly older and larger.

"That was some race!" chuckled Specs, after S. S. had broken the tape. He and Bunny were walking toward the competitors for the high jump. "Buck ran a good race, even if he was nosed out. How about taking him into the Black Eagle Patrol? He's crazy to get in, all right, no matter what he says. How do you feel about it?"

"What's the matter with Rodman Cree? He's acting as our eighth man to-day. Seems to me he should have first chance to join the patrol."

Specs wrinkled his forehead. "Y—yes. Oh, of course, he's all right. But he says himself that he just hit the ball by mistake yesterday morning; and you saw what happened just now in the half-mile."

Bunny threw back his shoulders. "I don't care whether Rodman Cree is any good at athletics or not. He's the right kind of a fellow; that's the main thing. Anyhow, I think he is. Besides, he may make good at one of these other events."

But wherever his abilities lay, it was plain that the red-headed boy had not been cut out by nature for a high jumper. Others skimmed the bar as lightly as swallows, but at the very outset Rodman began to flounder and fail. Twice, at three feet, he knocked off the crosspiece; the third time he came down on it squarely, smashing the wood to flinders.

"I'm no high-jumper, I guess," he laughed, as he quit the line of contestants. "I seem to be a pretty good faller—only there's no falling race."

While Specs frowned his disapproval, Bunny tried to hearten Rodman with a word of encouragement; for it seemed to him that under the boy's good nature there was a raw, sore spot.

"Don't you care!" he encouraged. "Before the morning's over, you will find that you're good at some one of these events. Besides, Jump will take care of first place here."

Jump did. To top this win, Bunny finished first in the hundred-yard dash, and, a little later, in the two-twenty. It was not till the discus throw that the Scout team suffered an overwhelming reverse. This defeat was the more disappointing because Bi and Roundy had counted on scoring points for first and second between them. But in spite of Bi's efforts and Roundy's weight, an All-School boy by the name of Bob Kiproy proved that he had the knack of discus throwing and that Bi hadn't. And Peter Barrett, the farmer boy, without any form at all, managed to land the platter-shaped weight some twenty-six inches beyond Roundy's best. As for Rodman Cree, his throws went woefully wild.

Now followed the most extraordinary event of the morning.

"You can't throw the discus," Specs said maliciously to Roundy. "You've proved that. Now, why don't you go in and win this hurdle race?"

"All right," snapped the late weight-thrower. "Just to prove that I can, I will."

It was the 120-yard course, with low hurdles, however, instead of the customary thirty-six-inch regulation barriers.

"Don't make a show of yourself," whispered Specs, as Roundy lined up for the start.

"I wasn't joking," retorted Roundy. "You watch!"

And, to the surprise of everybody, it was Roundy who breasted the tape first. While the others were rushing frantically at the hurdles and falling as they tripped and blundered, Roundy took his obstacles "high and handsome," to use the words of Horace Hibbs. Jump, who should have done well in this event, hurt his knee at the fourth hurdle, where he was forced out of the race.

"Attaboy!" exulted Specs, clapping Roundy on the back. "I knew you could do it."

"No, you didn't, either," Roundy answered, too pleased with his performance to be angry at anybody. "But I won the five points all right, even if I'm not one of you light and airy speedsters. What's next?"

The shot put was won by Bi, and, as Specs put it, "lost by Mister Rodman Cree," who finished a bad last.

"I'm leaving now," Bi told Bunny, after that event. "Date with the dentist at eleven, as I explained. Before I go, though, I'd just like to say that I don't think this new fellow is any good. He can't run. Well, that's all right. But he can't do anything else, either."

"This isn't a secret society, Bi, and it isn't an athletic club. It's a patrol of Boy Scouts. And if Rodman isn't good at some of these things that don't really count, I know he's worth while in other ways."

Bi shook his head. "Let some new patrol take him in. He may be all right, but I'd rather have somebody in the Black Eagles who isn't such a dub."

With only three more events on the program, the Scouts' lead seemed to promise a sure victory. But when the All-School team romped away with both first and second places in the broad jump, matters began to look more grave. Once more, Rodman Cree made a mess of his efforts as a jumper. He switched between taking off clumsily and falling back after landing.

"He just won't do," said Roundy soberly, as the city hall clock struck eleven.

"But he's really trying," protested Bunny. "His laughing and all that is just on the surface. He likes us, and he wants to make us like him."

"Too many other good fellows in school to bother with him," Roundy retorted. He paused for a moment. "Bunny, I wish I could stay for the relay race, but I promised my father to mow the lawn this forenoon, and I can't get it done unless I start now. You don't need me as a sub, do you?"

Bunny shook his head. "No; we have S. S., Specs, Jump and myself; and Nap could be shoved in at a pinch. You trot along, and this afternoon we'll tell you how we won. Anyhow, I think this pole vault will give us a nice lead. That's one thing Nap can do, to say nothing of Jump."

Had Nap been satisfied to limit his strength to pole-vaulting, he might have made a first in that event; but he came to it exhausted from his earlier efforts, and his best was a creditable third. Jump's knee, bruised from the hurdles, was bumped again in his first attempt. Second place was the limit for him.

When Horace Hibbs called time for the relay race, the summary of events stood as follows:

Event First Second Points
Scouts All-School
Half Mile Scouts All-School 5 3
High Jump Scouts All-School 5 3
220-Yard Dash Scouts All-School 5 3
Discus Throw All-School All-School 0 8
Hurdles Scouts All-School 5 3
Shot Put Scouts All-School 5 3
100-Yard Dash Scouts Scouts 8 0
Broad Jump All-School All-School 0 8
Pole Vault All-School Scouts 3 5
Totals, 36 36

The score was a tie, therefore, with the result of the meet depending upon the relay race.

"We'll be ready to run in two minutes," Bunny said, and turned to discover Jump limping toward him. The boy's face was drawn with the effort he was making to walk naturally.

"I—I'm all right, Bunny. My knee will straighten out in just a minute. Please let me run. I'll be all right as soon as I start."

Horace Hibbs bent beside him, as Bunny examined Jump's right knee, which was discolored from its bruises and already slightly swollen.

"Won't do," said Horace Hibbs firmly. "It will come around all right in a day or two, but he must not abuse it by running in the relay. I won't have it. You'll have to get somebody else."

Bunny nodded agreement. "Oh, Nap!"

From his blanket on the ground, the Scout pried himself to his feet, with legs none too steady under him.

"Can't use him, either," decreed the Scout Master. "He has been running his head off in every event from the half mile down, and he is thoroughly exhausted. I won't allow him to start."

Bunny frowned. Though the man was right, it left no choice when it came to picking the fourth runner in the race. For a moment, he wished with all his heart that Bi, or even Roundy, were there; but it was too late now for wishing.

"Rodman," he called, "I'm putting you on our relay team."

The boy's eyes opened wide. "I'll try, of course, but you know as well as I do that I can't run to amount to anything."

"All you have to do is your best. Nobody wants any more of you than that. Three of us are better than any three on their team. You will start the third relay with a lead, sure, and if you lose it on your lap, I'll try to gain it back the last time around."

With quick, eager movements, Rodman Cree stripped off his jersey. "I am going to do all I can," he said in a low voice. "And you don't know how much I want to help you win."

"Look here," whispered the excited Specs, as he pulled Bunny to one side. "Do you mean that you are going to trust him to run in this race?"

"There's nobody else."

"He'll lose the race for us."

"Not if we other three gain on our laps as we should."

"He'll lose the race for us," repeated Specs despairingly, "and then, when it's all over, he'll laugh. I know him."

"Places for the relay!" shouted Horace Hibbs.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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