LOOKING OVER THE COURSE
"One thing sure, Fred, we couldn't have a better day for taking a spin
over the ground, and finding out what we'll be up against on the great
day."
"Yes, we're in luck that far, Bristles. The only thing I'm sorry about
is that Sid couldn't come along. What was it he told you, when you ran
across him early this Saturday morning in Bramley's sporting goods
store?"
"Why, you see," continued Bristles, as he trotted easily alongside his
friend, for they were in their running togs, and out upon the country
road at the time, "when I went to look over my outfit, I found my shoes
were partly worn, and that I needed a new pair. I'd been looking at some
cross-country running shoes Bramley got in last week, and liked their
style. They have a low broad heel, and spikes only in the sole. Feel as
easy as anything I've ever worn, and don't seem to rub my heels like the
old ones always did."
"You're getting there, Bristles; keep going right along," laughed Fred,
because the other had a reputation for being what boys call "long
winded." It sometimes took him double the time to tell a story that any
other fellow would have consumed.
"Oh! I was only going to say Sid was in there doing something, and he
asked me to tell you to excuse him on our trial spin to-day, as his
father had laid out a little trip for him. Sid looked mighty
disappointed, I could see. He'd like to be along, for even if this run
of ours is only to spy out the land, it may count big."
"Well, we may have another chance to go over the route, after we know
just what the committee has mapped out," said Fred.
"This is only guess work on our part, of course," continued the other,
"but then everybody seems to think that it's bound to be the course
chosen in the end."
"Yes," Fred added, reflectively, "because it offers a great variety of
country---level roads, then trails through the woods, crossing creeks,
and after that a stretch over country roads made up of soft dirt."
"Of course they'll have stations all along the route, as usual?" ventured
Bristles.
"No question about it," Fred told him. "That's done so every runner may
register in his own handwriting, and mark down the time he stopped at
each station. In such a way the committee will have a complete record of
what every contestant did, and there can be no suspicion of cheating."
"Whew! you don't think any fellow would be so small and mean as to try a
thing like that, do you, Fred?"
"I'd hate to think so," returned the other, "but this is done in order
that no one may even be suspected by outsiders. It's what you might call
an insurance against any rank work."
"How could a runner cheat, tell me?" asked Bristles.
"Well," replied Fred, "there's likely to be one or more places where he
could cut across lots and never show up at some advanced station at all.
In that way he'd be saved a mile or two of the gruelling run, and that
might be enough to give him a big lead on the home stretch."
"Then I only hope they have every kind of safeguard against cheating,
that can be used," declared Bristles, indignantly, "because for one I'd
die before I'd try to win a thing by trickery."
"I reckon everyone knows that, Bristles," Fred told him, "because there
never was a boy with a straighter record than you. You've got faults, as
who hasn't, but being sly and tricky, like Buck Lemington, isn't one of
them."
"I hear the scheme has created no end of excitement over at
Mechanicsburg," Bristles hastened to say, turning a little red though
with pleasure, at those words of confidence which Fred gave him.
"And at Paulding I'm told the whole town is on edge, with boys in running
togs spinning along every country lane, in pairs or singly," Fred
observed.
"Well," the boy with the mop of bristly hair went on to say, "once again
will good old Riverport have to hustle for all that's going, to hold her
own at the head of the procession."
"We mustn't expect too much," said Fred, modestly. "Up to now we've been
pretty lucky to pull down the plums, but there may come a change any day,
and we've got to show that we can stand defeat just as well as victory."
"They've got some good long distance runners over there in the mill
town," Bristles remarked, seriously.
"Equal to anything we can show, I should say, and it's going to take a
head, as well as flying feet, to beat them at the game, Bristles."
"Of course," added Fred's companion, "none of us have ever gone as much
as twenty-five miles in a single run, so we don't know what we can do,
but, for that matter, I don't believe a Mechanicsburg or Paulding fellow
has, either."
"But we mean to cover the course in a trial run before the great day
comes, you know," Fred told him. "I'm laying great store on one fellow
we've got."
"Of course you mean long-legged Colon, Fred?"
"Yes," replied Fred, "our fastest sprinter, a fellow who can hump himself
like a grayhound or a kangaroo in action, and cover more ground at the
finish than anybody I ever saw."
"But the most Colon's ever gone is ten miles," remarked Bristles, "and we
don't know what his staying qualities are. He may give out before
fifteen miles have been covered. If anybody asked me, I'd say we had
more chance with a husky fellow like you, for instance, who never has
been known to get tired, and can use his head as well as his heels."
"Then there's Sid and Brad," remarked Fred, hastily, "who have made up
their minds to be in the line when the signal is given; both of them are
known to be stayers. Of course I'll do my level best, but I hope none of
you pin your faith to a single runner. A little team work, or strategy,
sometimes helps out in cases of this kind."
"How can that be, when everyone has to run for himself, until hopelessly
distanced, if I read the rules straight?" asked Bristles.
"Only in this way," replied Fred. "If there are three entered from a
school, one of them might take the lead, and set the pace for a while.
When he had covered, say a third of the distance, he would fall back, and
a second forge to the front, leaving the last fellow to cover the home
stretch. It's been done in other races, though I believe some people
frown on it. Still, there's no ban on the practice."
"Why, no, this is a race between rival schools," said Bristles, "and
every fellow is supposed to be willing to sacrifice individual chances
for the good of the lot, just as team-work pays in baseball or anything
else."
"Well, let's cut out the talk for a while, and put on more steam,"
advised Fred. "Here's a good chance for a spurt, down the grade, and
then along two miles of level road."
"Go you, Fred!"
The two runners went flying along like the wind until they had reached
the foot of a steep hill, which it would be folly to attempt to climb at
more than a walk. Once beyond this, a fine stretch of country opened
before them, with farms and woodland on every side.
Fred had a pretty fair map of the region, which he had made from picking
up information on every side. One of his motives in making this tour on
Saturday morning, was to verify its truth. Once the route of the
Marathon race had been issued, all those who expected to compete would
have the privilege of going over the ground as often as they pleased. If
any fellow were smart enough to discover how he could cut off a hundred
yards or two, and yet report at every station, he was at liberty to do
so.
A knowledge of the course often counts heavily in a Marathon race, as it
does in many other things. That is why most baseball clubs play better
on their home grounds, where they know the lay of the land, the presence
of treacherous little hillocks, the usual slant of the wind, the value of
sending their balls toward a certain fence where home-runs count heavily,
and all that sort of thing.
Five miles farther on, and the boys had come to a place where Fred, on
consulting his map, observed:
"The road runs away around, and by cutting across the woods here as much
as two miles can be saved. I understand that the contestants will have
that privilege offered to them if they choose to take it.
"Why, of course everybody will grab the chance," remarked Bristles.
"I'm not so sure about that," he was told by his companion, "and for this
reason: while the shortcut saves considerable distance, it's bound to be
harder going, and some runners might even get lost in the undergrowth, so
they'd be cut out of the race."
"Gee! I never thought of that, Fred; but you're right."
"Then if they have a hard time breaking through," continued Fred, "and
finding the other road above the registering station, they may be winded,
so that the other fellow who's gone all the way around would be in much
better shape for a gruelling finish."
"It all depends, then, on knowing your ground?" pursued Bristles.
"And that's what we want to make sure of as we go through the woods here
right now," continued Fred. "Both of us must take our bearings from
certain trees as we push along. If we strike a trail that leads to the
right quarter, we'll manage to blaze it in some fashion that other
fellows would never notice, though we can put our own crowd wise to the
signs.
"Here's where the head work comes in, eh, Fred?"
"Only a small sample of it," laughed the other, "and there'll be plenty
more to follow before we win this Marathon. If any of the opposition
crosses the tape ahead of Riverport, it'll be because they're better
runners and managers than we are, that's all there is to it. But come
on, let's break away from the road."
Upon that the two boys entered the woods, carefully marking the spot in
their memories by noticing a certain bunch of white-barked birches that
drooped over in a peculiar way, different from anything they had thus far
seen.
Fred had his little compass with him. He had laid out his course
exactly, so as to strike the other road at a certain spot, which it was
believed would be just above the toll-gate, where he knew one of the
registering stations was bound to be placed.
Of course they could not expect to go in a straight line, or as the crows
fly. All sorts of obstacles interfered with such a scheme. Now it was a
deep gully that barred their progress; a little further on they came to a
stretch of swampy ground, where a runner would find himself bogged and
placed in a desperate condition, if he attempted to push through. But
wise Fred had early discovered what seemed to be a fairly well worn trail
that seemed to lead in the direction they were intending to go. At times
it was exceedingly difficult to see the track, but both these boys had
keen eyes, and used good judgment, so they managed to come upon it
frequently.
All the time they continued to make note of certain landmarks that would
aid them later on, when again passing through this strip of woodland and
jungle. Possibly there would be a mile of it, against three by the road.
Plainly then, if a runner could get through in fairly decent shape he
would have saved more or less time in so doing.
The two Riverport lads had perhaps gone half way, and were feeling well
satisfied with the progress made, when Fred stopped and held up his hand.
"Listen, Bristles!" he exclaimed, "what's all that racket do you think?"
"Sounds like dogs barking and snarling, to me, Fred."
"But away out here in the woods you wouldn't expect to hear a pack of
dogs, unless they were running wild," urged Fred, still listening.
"Whew! that reminds me of what I heard an old farmer tell in the market
one day last week," exclaimed Bristles. "He said he had lost three sheep
this Spring from dogs, and that a pack of sheep killers was loose up
around his section!"