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:
=============================================================
| | | POINTS
EVENT | FIRST | SECOND +--------------------
| | | 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.