IN THE CLUB CONSERVATORY.
Their experience with the sporting element of Cartersville had been so
unpleasant that Frank and his friends had no desire to remain longer in
the town. Greatly to their surprise they were not molested in any way by
the friends of Carey Cameron, who seemed to have received a knockout
blow, and the Merries left the town by the first train for the East.
Their objective point was Ashport, where a gentleman by the name of
Robert Ashley had offered a magnificent trophy to be contested for by
all legitimate amateurs who wished to enter a cross-country running
contest. It was not that Frank, or any of his team, intended to enter
the contest that had influenced Merry to take in Ashport on his journey
to the East, but he had heard much about the man who was promoting the
event, and what he had heard had been favorable.
Ashley was an Englishman, and shortly after graduating from Oxford he
had found himself, at the death of his father, left with but a small
portion of the fortune he had been led to believe he should inherit.
Quickly realizing that the income of this reduced fortune would not
support him in the style he desired, he put aside family and caste
prejudice against “trade” and formed an unfortunate business alliance
with a shrewd rascal, who quickly succeeded by crooked methods in
robbing him of what he had left, and then threw him over to face the
world.
By the sale of personal effects, Ashley raised something like three
hundred pounds, and with this in his pocket he bade farewell to England
and turned his face toward America.
There is no need to recount his career in this country, but let it
suffice to say that, after many hardships and severe struggles, he
“struck it rich” in Colorado. For him “the mining game” was a successful
one, and within five years after fortune turned, he retired from the
struggle, many times a millionaire. His success in the face of
disappointment and hard luck he attributed to his persistence,
endurance, and staying power; and many a time he averred that these
qualities—to some extent hereditary—had been cultivated, developed, and
brought to perfection by such school-day and college sports as
cross-country running and hare and hounds.
Ashley had conceived a great admiration and love for the country in
which he had retrieved his fallen fortunes. After a visit to his former
home in the old country, he returned to the United States and finally
settled near Ashport, on the Ohio River. Whether or not he was attracted
by the name of the town it is impossible to say; but there he found
precisely the sort of country he admired and his fortune permitted him
to purchase a large estate.
He soon became actively concerned in many charitable works and he took a
great interest in all sorts of healthy outdoor sports, participating in
such as were adapted to his years and encouraging those in which he
could not longer indulge. He founded the Ashport Amateur Athletic
Association, which, although located in the country, was within easy
range of many thriving towns and two large and prosperous cities; and,
in the two years of its existence, it had made such rapid advancement in
membership and achievement that it was regarded as one of the leading
organizations of the sort in the country.
Among the members of the club were several former college men of note in
athletics, not the least of whom was Carl Prince, who became known as
the “Georgetown Wonder” when he had twice broken the American college
record in the quarter-mile run.
Other ex-college men who had accomplished things on the track and the
cinder path and later joined Ashport were Clifford Clyde, of Yale, and
Hugh Sheldon, Michigan’s remarkable hurdler and steeplechaser.
Mr. Ashley had a theory that distance running was neglected in America,
and he sought to arouse interest in it. For this purpose he had offered
a prize to be contested for at Ashport on a certain date, by any and all
legitimate amateurs of America who wished to enter the cross-country
running contest.
The sporting columns of the newspapers had thoroughly advertised the
coming event, and had commented much on the beauty and costliness of the
trophy. Having seen these articles in the papers, Frank Merriwell
planned to reach Ashport on the trip East with his athletic team in time
to witness the contest.
It happened, however, that Paul Proctor, the president of the Ashport A.
A., a Harvard grad, knew Merry well and took pains to extend him an
invitation to participate in the contest.
Although Frank had not given any thought to a participation in the
events, he had gladly accepted Proctor’s invitation, and on the day of
the tryouts he watched them from the observatory of the clubhouse which
was located at the shoulder of an oval mile track that had been
constructed for all sorts of foot races. From this observatory could be
obtained a clear and complete view of the track and grounds of the
Ashport Athletic Association.
Back of the clubhouse and to the east lay Ashport, a thriving,
up-to-date village. The river swept in a horseshoe-like curve to the
south. To the north was the estate of Robert Ashley, comprising hundreds
of acres of green fields, broad meadows, hills, valleys, and wild
woodland. On one of the hillsides, surrounded by splendid old trees,
stood Ash Hall. In order to build a home to suit himself, Mr. Ashley had
razed a house that formerly stood on the same spot.
“Who is the pacemaker?” asked Merry, as he watched the runners through a
pair of field glasses.
“That is Carl Prince, of Batavia,” answered Paul Proctor.
“Not Prince, the Georgetown Wonder?”
“The same fellow. He’s just as fast to-day as he was at college, when he
became known as the Georgetown Wonder.”
“He was a great quarter-miler,” nodded Frank, having lowered the glasses
for a moment; “but I don’t recall that he ever made a reputation as a
long-distance man.”
“Not at college,” admitted Proctor. “He didn’t go in for long-distance
work then. He has since becoming a member of the Ashport A. A.”
“I am inclined to fancy he has not changed his methods to any great
extent, and you know long-distance work is much different from sprinting
and dashes. True it is running, but runners are divided into three
classes—the sprinters, the middle-distance men, and the long-distance or
cross-country men. Those adapted for the second class named, or who have
won records or events in that class, find it more easy to become
cross-country men than do those of the first class.”
“What makes you think Prince has not changed his methods?”
“His stride, his carriage, and his tenseness. Sprinters are under strain
from start to finish in a race, and their muscles are taut. They are
liable to tie up in long runs. They forget to relax, and their muscles
become overstrained. When a man ties up in a long run he’s liable not to
finish at all. He finds himself run out at a time and point when he
should be at his very best.”
“Hollingsworth has considerable confidence in Prince.”
“Who is Hollingsworth?”
“Our trainer. He’s an Englishman, and he knows his business. He was
formerly the champion of the Middlesex Cross Country Club, in England.
We were lucky to get hold of him here.”
“Long-distance and cross-country running seems to be a fad with your
club, Proctor.”
“Naturally,” smiled the president of the club. “Mr. Robert Ashley, who
founded the club, gave us our field and track and built this handsome
clubhouse for us, is a crank on that sort of sport. In his day, he was
the greatest cross-country and hare-and-hounds man in Oxford.”
“He is an Englishman?”
“Yes. That is, he was. He’s a naturalized American now. Made a fortune
in mining and settled here. That splendid house you can see on the hill
yonder is where he lives. It is modeled after the old English country
mansion, and he calls it Ash Hall. Mr. Ashley claims that cross-country
running is the finest sport in the world to develop staying power and
endurance in a young man, and he says staying power is what the modern
young man needs to make him successful in business. He thinks there are
too many sprinters in business, who make a hot dash for a while, but are
unable to keep up the pace until successful.”
Frank smiled and nodded.
“It is my opinion that Mr. Ashley is a man of wisdom and generosity,” he
said. “The runners are coming down the straight course to the stand. We
can get a better view of them now.”
He again lifted the glasses to his eyes, an example followed by several
other persons.
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