Chapter XII: The Inter-Scholastic Games

Mr. Mudge informed us that he did not intend to arrest Polo immediately, but merely to have her "shadowed," which meant that all her habits and those of her friends and relatives were to be ascertained and every movement watched.

"You will not hurt her feelings by letting her know that you suspect her?" Milly begged, and Mr. Mudge assured her that such a thing was furthest from his intention, and in his turn he urged us not to allow Polo to imagine that we suspected her.

"We can't let her see that," Winnie replied, "since we do not suspect her in the least."

Mr. Mudge coughed. "I hope your confidence will be proved to be not misplaced," he replied; "but Miss Noakes does not share it, and I deem Miss Noakes to be a very discriminating woman."

He bowed stiffly, and for that day the conference was ended. Cynthia retired to her room, and shut the door with a bang. Milly threw herself into Winnie's arms, and Winnie caressed her and cried over her in mingled happiness and remorse--joy that Milly had been proved innocent, and repentance that she had ever doubted her.

"Oh! my darling, my darling," she sobbed; "can you ever forgive me for believing you capable of so dreadful a thing? I could not blame you if you refused to ever speak to me again."

"Don't feel so badly," Milly pleaded. "Appearances were awfully against me, and if papa had not come and helped me out just in the nick of time, I don't know what I might have been tempted to do. I have been so bad, Winnie, that I am very humble. I shall never say I never could have done such a thing, for I cannot know what the temptation might have been. I am almost glad that you believed me so wicked, because it shows me that you would have stood by me even then. I am going to try to be a better girl for this experience, and worthier of your love."

Adelaide and I retired discretely, and talked over the new aspects of the second robbery. The trust funds must be made up between us. To help do this I subscribed the twenty dollars which Winnie had given me on my birthday, and which fortunately had been placed in my portfolio before we had regained our confidence in the cabinet, and had never been transferred to my compartment. As the other girls had not suffered this time, they made up the amount, though it necessitated considerable self-denial. It took some time for Milly to become accustomed to properly dividing her spending money, so that she need not come short before the date for receiving her allowance, but the practice was good for her and in the end she became an excellent manager.

One peculiar circumstance in regard to this robbery was remarked by Winnie--the fact that on both occasions money had only been taken from my shelf. It was true that Adelaide and Milly had each lost fifty dollars the first night, but not until it had been taken by Milly from their hoards and placed with mine.

"It would seem," said Adelaide, "as if the thief had a special grudge against Tib; a determination that she shall not save up enough to go to Europe next year."

"It can't be that," Winnie replied, "for although the last sum stolen was taken from Tib's compartment, it was not her money. The whole thing is very peculiar, and seems to be the work of some unreasoning agent, for this time, as the last, Adelaide had some bills lying loosely in her pigeon hole in full sight, which were not touched at all. I have heard of things having been stolen by jackdaws and mice--and monkeys--and I believe there has been some monkey business here."

"I heard a story when I was in Boston," said Adelaide. "It was told me by a member of a prominent firm of jewellers. It is the custom at the close of the day for one of the clerks to lock up all the jewelry in the safe for the night. He had done so, and was just about to leave the store when a box containing a valuable pair of diamond sleeve buttons was handed him. It was late, and as it would take some time to go over the combination which locked and unlocked the safe, he tucked the little box far under the safe and thrust some old newspapers in front of it. In the morning when he searched for it, what was his consternation to find that the sleeve buttons were gone. The box was there, but some one had opened it and abstracted the sleeve buttons. He reported the loss at once to one of the members of the firm, who reproved him for his carelessness in not unlocking the safe and placing the box where it would have been secure. Then the gentlemen put their heads together to track the thief; and some one suggested that he had seen mice in the store, and this might be their work. The safe was moved, and a small hole was discovered in the base-board of the room. A carpenter was sent for and the wall opened, and there, cozily established in a nest formed of twine and nibbled paper, and other odds and ends, a family of little pink mice was discovered, and in their nest were the missing sleeve buttons. The mother mouse had evidently been attracted by the glitter of the gems, for she had taken great pains to convey them to her home. She had stored here many other curious articles: pieces of shiny tin foil, which she may have used as mirrors; bits of broken glass, and scraps of narrow, bright ribbon, intended for tying the boxes, all showing that she had an eye for decorative art. I am very sorry that it was considered best to kill her, for I believe that mouse could have been educated. Now, the reason that I have told this long story is that I half suspect that this is a case of mouse, and not, as Winnie says, of monkey business."

Winnie immediately examined the cabinet. The panelling was intact, not even worm-eaten; it fitted apparently as closely as the covering of a drum; not a crevice large enough for even a cricket to penetrate.

"It is very mysterious, all the same," Winnie remarked; "but I here and now vow, in the presence of these witnesses, to make this mystery mine, and to unravel it before the close of school, so surely as my name is Witch Winnie."

From that time we spoke of the affair of the cabinet as Witch Winnie's mystery, and we all had faith that some way or other Winnie would find the clue if Mr. Mudge did not.

One day in May she said: "I feel as if there was something uncanny about the cabinet itself. I wonder who was its first owner. Perhaps Lucrezia Borgia kept her poisons in it, and it is haunted by dreadful secrets of the middle ages. It may be that Lorenzo de Medici confided to its keeping a will, giving back to Florence the city's liberties, and that this will was stolen by the Magnificent's heir while the poor man lay dying. We can imagine that the ghost of the guilty man having, as Mr. Mudge says, been once successful, has contracted a habit of stealing from the cabinet, and comes in the wee small hours with stealthy tread to take whatever occupies the spot where once Lorenzo's testament reposed."

"What a romantic idea!" Milly murmured. "You could make a lovely composition out of it, Winnie."

"Good idea!" Winnie exclaimed. "I will. I have got to have something for the closing exercises of school, and Madame advised me to write on Raphael. She said that Professor Waite's lectures on the Italian artists ought to inspire me. Some way they never have, but this old cabinet does. I shall pretend that I have found a package of letters in a secret compartment; and in this package I shall tell all the early history of Raphael--which is not known to the world--his love story with Maria Bibbiena, and all the criticism and envy which he must have undergone before he arrived at success. It will be great fun and I shall go to work at once. No, I shall not go to see the inter-scholastic games to-morrow. I shall have a solid quiet afternoon to myself while you girls are skylarking, and I shall have to work like a house on fire on every Saturday I can get to make my essay the success which I mean it shall be."

From this decision we could not move her, though it greatly disappointed Milly, who desired that Mr. Van Silver should meet Winnie. Mrs. Roseveldt had returned from the South, and had consented to chaperone the girls, Mr. Van Silver taking us out on his handsome coach.

It was a perfect day and the drive to the Berkeley Oval, where the games took place, was a delightful one.

Mr. Van Silver's Brewster coach was a glorious affair. It was painted canary yellow. The four horses were perfectly matched roans. The grooms were in liveries of bottle-green coats with white breeches and top boots faced with yellow. Mr. Van Silver wore a light-coloured overcoat, and the lap robe was of white broadcloth. All the brass about the harness had been burnished till it shone like gold. Mrs. Roseveldt and Milly sat beside him on the box. Mrs. Roseveldt wore a Paris costume of white cloth with Louis XVI jacket with velvet sleeves and vest heavily embroidered in gold. A little bonnet formed of gold beads fitted her aristocratic head like a coronet. Milly was bewitchingly pretty in a fawn coloured shoulder cape, and a pancake hat piled with yellow buttercups. She seemed, as Adelaide said, cut out of a piece with her surroundings. Adelaide and I occupied the back seat, with Little Breeze beside us in the place which had been intended for Winnie. Little Breeze wore a simple spring suit and I had only one best gown--a gray cashmere; but Adelaide made up for our simplicity. Her dress was not very expensive, but Milly's exclamation that it was "too exasperatingly, excruciatingly becoming" will give an idea of its effect. It was a white foulard, sprigged in black and caught here and there with black velvet bows; there was a vest of fluffy white chiffon, and her hat was trimmed with white marabout pompons powdered with black. The costume was her own design, executed by Miss Billings. She carried a cheap white silk parasol, made to look elaborate by a cover constructed from an old black lace flounce.

"Papa has forbidden me ever to enter Celeste's rooms again," Milly said to Adelaide; "and I am sure if Miss Billings can make me look as _recherche_ as you do, she is good enough for me."

"I seem fated never to meet Miss Winnie," Mr. Van Silver said as he started.

"She is to visit us during the summer," said Mrs. Roseveldt, "and you must come out to the Pier and see her."

"You are very good, but I am going to take my coach over to the other side this summer. My mother is visiting at the castle of the Earl of Cairngorm and wants me to take a lot of people for a coaching trip through the Scottish Highlands."

"How many of our friends are going to Europe in the summer," Adelaide remarked. "Professor Waite told me he intended to return to France for a term of years, and Tib here is going over to study----"

"I'm afraid not," I replied doubtfully.

"Oh, yes you are," Milly insisted; "that will all come out right."

"What a lovely day for the games," Mrs. Roseveldt remarked. "What is your favorite school, Milly? Columbia, Berkeley, Cutler, Morse? Oh! yes, I remember--the cadets. But where is your badge? I see that Miss Armstrong and Miss Smith wear theirs quite conspicuously, and Mr. Van Silver, too, has decorated his whip and the coach horn with the cadet colours."

"Adelaide has a brother among the cadets, which accounts for her preference," Milly replied evasively; "but I don't see why I should prefer them to any other school."

"Why, have you forgotten," Mrs. Roseveldt asked, much surprised, "your old friend Stacey Fitz Simmons is a cadet?"

Milly tossed her head disdainfully. She could not tell the story of the intrusion of the two boys whom we believed to be cadets, for we had promised Madame not to bruit it abroad; but her reason for not wearing the cadet colours was her indignation on account of this act. She believed, or affected to believe, that one of these boys was Stacey, and she had determined to punish him for the outrage. "Girls," she had said, before leaving, "after the insult which our school has received from the cadets, I do not see how any of you can wear their colours."

"We do not know certainly that those interlopers were cadets," Adelaide replied; "and, even if they were, my brother is still a member of the school. He rides in the bicycle race and he expects to see me wear his colours."

I sympathized with Adelaide and made myself a badge to encourage little Jim.

"Stacey is a friend of mine," Mr. Van Silver asserted. "I expect to see him carry off several events to-day, and I have come out prepared to wave and cheer and bawl myself hoarse in his honour."

What a charming drive it was through the park, where many of the trees and shrubs were in blossom. We passed many a merry party bound in the same direction, and several great stages laden with boys, who carried flags, tooted horns, and shook immense rattles. Arrived at Morris Heights the sight was even still more inspiring, for every train emptied several carloads of passengers, who hastened to the grounds to be in time for the opening. As we drove in we could see that the grand stand and the long rows of seats on either side were well filled. There were at least four thousand spectators gathered to witness this athletic contest between the champions of the principal schools of the city. Some of the contestants were grouped on the verandas of the Pavilion waiting for their turn to take part. Others were already on the field, practising the long jumps, or pacing about with "sweaters," or knit woollen blouses, over their scanty running costumes.

On the grand stand and the "bleaching boards" the adherents of the different schools had collected in groups, which displayed the school colours as prominently as possible. These groups were now engaged in making as hideous an instrumental and vocal din as possible. Each orchestra, if it might be called so, was led by a sort of master of discord, who called at intervals upon his constituency for cheers for the different school favorites, as, "Now, boys, a loud one for Harrison. One, two, three, 'rah! 'rah! 'rah! C-u-t-l-e-r, Cutler!--Harrison!" While the Columbia grammar boys would reply, "C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a--Burke!" and the Berkeleys would yell forth the name of Allen, who has so long covered the school with glory.

Buttertub was conspicuous as leader of the chorus for the cadets. He wore an immense cockade, made of sash ribbon, pinned to the front of his coat, while his hat and a great cane with a knobby handle, too large for insertion even in his wide mouth, also flaunted the school colours. Our coach had hardly taken its position before Stacey and Jim spied it and came toward us. Stacey was in running costume--"undress uniform," he called it--but he had knotted a rose-coloured Russian bath gown about him to keep him from taking cold.

"Doesn't he look exactly like a girl?" Milly remarked as he approached, and then she gave him a curt little bow and turned with great _empressement_ to Professor Waite, who had come out on horseback, and who now rode up, hoping for a word with Adelaide. But Jim had clambered up on the wheel on the other side of the coach, and Adelaide was glad of this excuse to turn her back squarely on Professor Waite, who felt the avoidance and would have turned instantly away had not Milly insisted on introducing him to her mother. Meantime Stacey stood quite neglected. I longed to speak to him, but as I had never been introduced, did not dare to do so. Just as a hot flush was sweeping up toward his forehead, Mr. Van Silver, whose attention had been taken up with his horses, noticed him. "Hello, Stacey," he cried, "make that little chap get down off that wheel, will you? These horses are pretty nervous, even with the grooms at their heads. They are not used to all this racket. See how they are pawing up the driveway."

Stacey laughed. "Jim is a splendid wheel-man," he said. "You needn't be afraid for him. But aren't you going to get down? You can see ever so much better from the grand stand. Did the girls get the tickets that Jim and I sent?"

Adelaide acknowledged the receipt of the tickets, and spoke so pleasantly that Stacey seemed a little comforted. One of the grooms set up the steps and we all climbed down, Stacey assisting. When it was Milly's turn he spoke to her very earnestly in a low tone, but Milly did not reply. Mr. Van Silver called to us to keep together, and led the way to seats near the centre of the stand; and Stacey retired to the field, much displeased and puzzled by Milly's conduct.

Professor Waite looked after us longingly. He did not dare to leave his horse, and he was disappointed that we had left the coach, near which he had intended to hover.

"How very provokingly things do arrange themselves," I thought to myself. "Cupid must certainly be playing a game of cross purposes with us. Here is Stacey longing for a kind word from Milly, and Milly breaking her little heart for Professor Waite, and Professor Waite desperate because of Adelaide's indifference, Adelaide trying politely to entertain Mr. Van Silver, who, in his turn, is provoked because Winnie has not come; and I, who would be very grateful if any of these gentlemen would be agreeable to me--left quite out in the cold, without the shadow of an admirer."

I soon forgot this circumstance, however, in my interest in the games.

"There is the cup," said Mr. Van Silver, "on that table with the gold and silver medals, Berkeley holds it now. See, it is draped with blue and gold ribbons, the Berkeley colours. The school which wins the greatest number of points will take it after the games are over. This is the first heat of the hundred yard dash. Now we shall see some fun. It's a foregone conclusion that Allen of Berkeley will win. He does not enter for long distances, but as a sprinter he has no equal in the other schools." Very easily and handsomely Allen won this race and several others.

Then we admired the light and graceful way in which an agile youth took the hurdles, and the professional style of two walkers, and after this my glance wandered for a time over the spectators.

Cynthia Vaughn and Rosario Ricos had come out in the cars, chaperoned by Miss Noakes. They did not desire her company, and it was a great bore to her to come, but Madame would not let the girls come unattended. I was much surprised presently to see a gentleman make his way to her side. I nudged Adelaide, exclaiming under my breath, "Only see, Miss Noakes actually has an admirer!"

Adelaide lifted her opera-glass. "Tib," she ejaculated, "it is Mr. Mudge. You know he said she was a most discriminating woman. See, she is so much entertained that she does not notice that Ricos and Buttertub have made their way to Cynthia and are talking with her."

"Mr. Mudge notices them, though," I replied; "see how sharply he eyes them."

Mr. Mudge came to us presently, and chatted pleasantly in regard to the games.

"I did not know that you were so much interested in athletics," I remarked.

"A lawyer and a detective must be interested in everything which interests his clients," he replied.

"Did you come out alone?" I asked, more for the purpose of making conversation than from any desire to know.

"No; I had very charming company," he replied.

"Miss Noakes?" Adelaide asked mischievously.

Mr. Mudge looked at her with stern reproof in his gray eyes.

"Lawn Tennis," he remarked snappishly. "I came out with that young lady, though she is quite unconscious of my escort."

"What! is Polo here?" I asked.

"One of the most interested spectators. Her eyes are nearly popping out of her head with every strain of the muscles of that tug-of-war team."

The team to which Mr. Mudge referred was now pulling, and was made up of members of the Cadet School. They were finely developed young men, and in their leather apron-like protections, with their muscular arms and glowing faces, looked like blacksmiths' apprentices. They lay on the cleats, pulling at the great rope, and the cords swelled in their necks, as from time to time they ground their teeth, and threw their heads back with a jerk, which told how intense was the strain. The trainer of the team, a wiry, eager young man, in a jockey cap, stood with his hands on his knees, watching the white mark on the rope, which the team were very slowly working toward their side.

"That is a professional trainer," said Mr. Van Silver. "He has coached the cadets, and is intensely interested in their success."

At intervals, the captain and anchor of the cadets uttered exclamations of encouragement to his team, or vituperated at the other. "We're in it, boys, we're in it," he shrieked, as he gave another twist to the rope. "Steady, hold your own, and you'll pull 'em right off the cleats. Heave, now--heave! Oh! those fellows don't know how to pull," he cried again; "they're weakening! See how purple they're getting in the face. Hold on another two seconds, and you'll pull them into the middle of next week."

"What a noisy fellow!" Adelaide remarked. "Why doesn't Colonel Grey shut him up?"

"Not he," replied Mr. Van Silver. "See how his ribald and irreverent remarks put new courage into the team. I should not wonder if they won back that three inches which the other side pulled away from them during the first minute. Time's up. Which side won?" for the announcement of the judges was drowned in a roar of the cadet claque, led by Buttertub, who had struggled back to his place in time to head the 'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah!

Stacey had been looking on close to the rope, and he now shouted across to Mr. Van Silver, "The cadets have it by half an inch!" and waving the skirts of his bath-robe with great _abandon_, he threw himself into the arms of the little man in the jockey cap, and hugged him enthusiastically.

"Now, notice your friend," Mr. Mudge said to me, in a low voice; and, looking in the direction in which he pointed, I saw Polo standing on one of the front seats of the bleaching boards, waving her Tam O'Shanter, and shouting as wildly as the cadets.

"I did not know that Polo knew any of the boys who go to that school," I said, much puzzled.

"I don't believe she does," Mr. Mudge replied, "but Terwilliger, the trainer there, is her brother, and he hasn't the best record that was ever known. He was a jockey in England, but outgrew that profession, and has been a little of everything since. He came over to this country on the Earl of Cairngorm's yacht. He was associated shortly after with a noted pickpocket called Limber Tim, and some months since was sent with him to the Island to serve a term of imprisonment for participation in a confidence swindle. All of which, you see, has a rather damaging look for your friend Lawn Tennis. What I would like to know is, how he ever came to get the position of trainer at the Cadet School."

"The boys seem to be very fond of him," I ventured.

"Naturally; it was his training which has just won the school this event. Did you notice that young swell, Fitz Simmons, give him a greenback as soon as the victory was assured. I have not been able to discover yet whether Terwilliger has renewed his friendship with Limber Tim. If he has, it is more than likely that they are the two unknown boys who introduced themselves into your school on the night of your party."

"Has Adelaide shown you her brother's letters?" I asked. "We think that the young man who leads the applause and Rosario Ricos's brother are the scamps."

"That supposition might be entertained provided it had been only a boyish caper; but the two robberies can hardly be attributed to these young gentlemen."

I groaned. So our poor Polo was beginning to be "shadowed." She had told us with such delight, a few days before this, that she had found her brother. He had been away from New York for two years, but had left no stone unturned on his return in his search for them. He had a kind friend who had secured him a fine position, and she was so happy. The good news had nearly cured her mother.

I was drawn from my reverie by Adelaide's announcement that the time had come for the one mile safety bicycle race for boys under fifteen, in which Jim was to take part. This was the great event of the day for us. There were two entries from the Cadet School--Jim and Ricos.

"Ricos is certainly over fifteen," I said to Adelaide.

"He is no taller than Jim," Adelaide replied doubtfully.

"He is a little fellow," I admitted, "but those Cubans are all stunted, weazened little monkeys."

Adelaide smiled faintly, but watched the preparations for the race with straining eyes. So did all the cadets. There were many entries from the other schools, but they were confident in the prowess of their own champions. The only question was which would be successful.

"Come boys," shouted Buttertub, "let's give them a rousing send-off. Whoop her up for Ricos! One, two, three,--'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah! _Ricos!_"

A red-haired boy, whom I at once recognized as the Woodpecker, shouted from the field, "Cheer Armstrong, too!" but Buttertub either did not hear him, or wilfully disregarded his request.

Stacey's rose-coloured bath-gown was conspicuous, fluttering here and there; he got a bottle of alcohol from the trainer and was presently seen kneeling on the track, vigorously rubbing down Jim's legs. He mounted him carefully, and scrutinized every part of his little safety bicycle, with the most zealous care. The starter gave Jim the inside of the track, which was an advantage loudly contested by Ricos.

"No use kicking," Stacey remarked. "You've had one medal for cycling, and Jim is the youngest chap entered. I should like to know now just when you passed your fourteenth birthday."

Ricos was silent and sullenly took his place. Jim turned and waved his hand to his sister. Stacey was holding his bicycle, ready to push it off at the signal. How jaunty and gay he looked in his dark blue jersey, with the silver C on his breast, and with the wind blowing his blonde hair from his eager face.

"He's a jolly little chap," Mr. Van Silver remarked admiringly; and Milly murmured, "I think he's perfectly sweet."

Adelaide said nothing, but the tears came to her eyes. I think that just for that moment she was perfectly happy. Her mood was contagious. The glamour of spring was in the hazy atmosphere. The plum trees were blossoming white out beyond the track, and the blue of bursting buds and the tender green of the earliest leafage spread itself in a shimmering haze over all the sweet spring landscape. It was a good world, after all.

At the report of the starter's pistol, all of the boys were off in line, but they had hardly made half a lap when two, Jim and Ricos, shot from the rank and sped on in advance of the others.

"'Rah! 'Rah! for the cadets!" shouted Buttertub.

"'Rah! for Armstrong!" yelled the Woodpecker.

"He's second!" shouted Buttertub.

"He's first!" shrieked the Woodpecker, "and gaining every instant. 'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah!"

"He can't keep it! Ricos won't let himself be beaten as easily as that," replied Buttertub. "See him bend to it. There, he's up with him! They're even! He's trying to get the inside! 'Rah! 'Rah!"

"Look out! there'll be a smash-up!" cried the trainer. "Keep to the right, you lummox."

"Hi!" cried Mr. Van Silver, springing to his feet, "that's a bad tumble."

"Ricos fouled him on purpose," cried the Woodpecker.

A groan ran round the stand. "They are both down--no, only one."

"Which one?" cried Adelaide.

"I don't know," I replied, but I held her down firmly on my shoulder, for I saw a rose-coloured bath-robe skimming across the field like a pink comet, and I knew that Stacey would not have manifested such concern if an accident had happened to Ricos.

"Armstrong's up!" yelled the trainer in the jockey cap. "He's mounting again!"

"He is!" ejaculated Mr. Van Silver. "By George! Jim's the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw in my life!"

For an instant the spectators went crazy with cheers, then they quieted down and watched.

Ricos swept by, he had gained the first lap easily; but only a faint cheer greeted him. It was thought by many that the collision was intended, and all eyes were fixed on the little figure in the blue jersey, now the very last in the race, but who, having been assisted to his seat by the rose-coloured bath-robe, was now wheeling manfully along in the rear. Adelaide opened her eyes and waved her handkerchief as he passed the stand.

"Go it, Jim; go it! You've got the sand," yelled the Woodpecker; while Stacey, the bath-robe cast aside, came forging up, running at Jim's side; in his friendly anxiety to see that all was right, unconsciously breaking his own previous record as a sprinter. If he had been timed just then even his most enthusiastic friends would have been astonished. But, convinced that Jim was gaining, he contented himself with cutting across the Oval to note his place at the end of the second lap. Ricos had held his own, and passed the stand well ahead of all the other competitors; but Jim was making up and had distanced two of the laggards, his legs propelling like the driving-bars of an engine.

"He's gaining!" cried Mr. Van Silver. "I should not wonder if he caught up with the other fellow; for, see, he has two more rounds to make."

When he passed the stand for the third time and the starter rang the bell which announced that this was the last lap, Jim had passed all the others and was following Ricos at a distance of only a few rods. He looked up toward us with a pitiful smile on his wan face. "Cheer, boys, cheer!" cried the Woodpecker, "you don't applaud half enough. Whoop 'em up, Tub! Hurry up, Jim! Hurry up! Go it for all you're worth!"

"Take it easy--easy!" roared Stacey, who saw that the boy was straining every nerve. "Take your time, Jim. You've got him, now. Take--your--time!"

The spectators were nearly all silent. The boys belonging to other schools, seeing that there was no hope for their own champions, had ceased to applaud and were now deeply interested in the two cadets. Rosario Ricos had fainted, and Miss Noakes was calling shrilly for water, but even Mr. Mudge was so much absorbed in the contest that he paid no attention to her appeal. People near me held their breath in suspense. It reminded me of Gerome's picture of the chariot race, and the fall had been not unlike the one described in "Ben Hur."

"Why is it," whispered Adelaide, "that Jim has tied a crimson ribbon just below his knee? Red is not a cadet colour; see it flutter against his leg."

I saw the crimson streak to which she referred; but a swift intimation flashed upon me that this was no ribbon, but a little rill of blood flowing from a gash cut by Ricos's wheel. I contrasted Jim's face, deadly pale, with that of Ricos's, flushed to a dark purple, and wondered whether his strength would hold out to the end. I need have had no fear, Jim was clear grit through and through. As he neared the goal he set his teeth and bent nearly flat, throwing no glance this time in our direction, but with graze fixed straight before him, he worked the pedals with wonderful velocity and swooped forward, like a little hawk, far beyond Ricos, and past the finish, on, on, as though the momentum of that final spurt would never be exhausted. The thunder of applause which burst forth at this exploit was something which I had never heard equalled. The spectators all stood upon the benches, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, hats, and scarfs, crying and laughing hysterically. The men yelled and shouted themselves hoarse. Every kazoo, tin horn, rattle, and other instrument of torture sounded forth its discordant triumph. The boys stamped and hooted. The cadets, to a man, acted like raving maniacs. Even Buttertub, who had no love for Jim, led his gang with "Bully for Armstrong!" "Hi--yi--whoop, three times three and a tiger!" "Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! What's the matter with Armstrong? He's all right!"

"'Rah, 'Rah, 'Rah--ta-tara-da
Boomerum a boom-er-um.
Boom, boom, bang!"

But Jim was not all right. He heard the great roar of applause, but it sounded far, far away to his numbing senses. Then all the light went out of the sweet spring landscape, and he toppled over, bicycle and all, into Stacey's friendly arms. No one was surprised to see him stretched upon the grass wrapped in the rose-coloured bath-gown, for it was a common thing for victors to faint just as they secured their laurels. "He'll be up in a minute; Stacey is rubbing his feet," Mr. Van Silver asserted reassuringly. "Good-hearted fellow, that Stacey. He's devoted to your brother." But Adelaide watched him anxiously, until a crowd of boys closed around him and hid him from her view. How terribly long he lay there--could anything serious be the matter? Suddenly Polo's brother came running toward us. "Is there any doctor on the grand stand!" he shouted; "if so, he's wanted _immejiently_."

Adelaide sprang to her feet and clambered down the ranks of seats. I followed. I have no clear idea of how we reached the ground, but we hurried on together, the boys making way for us as we came. They had an instinctive feeling that this handsome, imperious girl, with the white face, had a right to pass. A panting boy, lying with his face to the ground, looked up and asked, "What's up?"

"They can't bring Armstrong to," replied the trainer. "Looks like he is going to die."

"Glad of it," retorted the other, turning his face to the sod again. It was Ricos, deserted by every one, unnoticed in his defeat. But through his humiliation and resentment there presently shot a pang of conscience. "What if Jim should die? Would I not be a murderer?" and with pallid face he staggered to his feet and tottered after us. The crowd around Jim opened for us. There he lay with his head on Stacey's lap. A portly surgeon, with a river of watch-chain flowing around his vest, knelt at Jim's side examining the wound below his knee. Colonel Grey, the principal of the school, a retired army officer, and a tall soldierly man, bent his white head over the doctor and inquired into Jim's condition.

"The wound is not a serious one, only a minor artery cut, which I have just tied. The only question is whether the little fellow has lost too much blood."

"Oh, my darling brother!" Adelaide cried.

"For Heaven's sake, control yourself, my dear Miss Armstrong!" exclaimed Colonel Grey. He realized the importance of not exciting Jim, and he loved the boy tenderly. He offered his arm to Adelaide now, while four of the cadets lifted Jim and bore him very gently to the piazza of the pavilion. "To think," said the Colonel, "that I was just congratulating myself on the number of points he was winning for the school. Why, I would rather the school had not gained a single point than have had this happen."

"Darn the games," muttered Stacey, switching his bath-robe about savagely.

When we reached the piazza and Jim had been stretched on a bench, his eyes opened feebly. He recognized Adelaide fanning him and smiled.

"They are calling the mile run," said the trainer. "You entered for that, Mr. Fitz Simmons. They say you are sure of winning the race, and if you do you'll gain the cup for the school."

"Confound the race!" ejaculated Stacey. "Do you suppose I am going to leave Jim in this condition?"

"I cannot ask it, my boy," said the Colonel. But Jim's forehead furrowed slightly, and he said very feebly: "Go, Stacey; don't--let the school--lose the cup."

"Go!" cried Adelaide. "He wishes it." And Stacey strode out to the track.

Milly told me afterward that she was greatly surprised, and not a little indignant, to see him take his place with the runners, who were mustering just in front of us.

"How's Armstrong?" Mr. Van Silver called to him.

Stacey came nearer. "Badly hurt, I'm afraid," he replied.

"Then I think it is very heartless in you to run," Milly exclaimed. It was the only thing she had said to him that day. He flushed violently. "Jim begged me to do so," he said, "or else you may be sure that I would not be here."

The race was called, and Stacey threw himself into the "set," his chin protruding with bull-dog determination, but Milly's thoughtless remark had taken all of the spirit out of him. "He was the very last to get off," said the trainer. "He's running in awful bad form, too. Fifth from the front. What's he thinking of to let Harrison pass him?"

Around they came, and Stacey looked appealingly to Milly, but with nose turned in the air, she was waving the Morse colours, snatched from a girl sitting near her, and applauding the Morse champion, Emerson.

The sight stung him. He would show her that he was a better runner than the boy she had selected as her favorite, and he put forth every energy, and gained rapidly.

"I told 'em," said the trainer oracularly, "that Fitz Simmons would wake up, and sprint further on. _He_ wasn't running this first lap. He ain't a-running now, he's just taking it easy, to show us some tall running toward the finish, when he'll have it all to himself."

The cadets evidently thought so too, and Stacey's own drum corps, who had brought out their drums on the top of a stage in expectation of this event, beat an encouraging charge as he came around for the second time. Stacey smiled as he recognized the familiar:

Boom a tid-e-ra-da
Boom a diddle dee,
Boom a tid-e-ra-da
Boom!

He turned for an instant, waved his hand to the boys, and then buckled down to his very best effort.

"It's one in a million
If any civilian
His figure and form can surpass,"

hummed Mr. Van Silver.

"How's that for the cup?" shouted Buttertub, who forgot personal animosities in the school triumph. He flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and yelled across to the drum corps, "Who's Fitz Simmons?"

It was a well-known school cry and the boys on the stage responded lustily:

"First in peace, first in war;
He'll be there again, he's been there before;
_First in the hearts of his own drum corps_;
That's Fitz Simmons!"

Stacey was leading--only a little way now to the finish. He said to himself, "Now's the time to sprint." How strange that his muscles would _not_ obey the command telegraphed to them by his brain. Strain every nerve as he did, he could not increase the pace. Emerson, the Morse flyer, shot by him with his magnificent stride, as fresh and unwearied in this final burst of speed as Milton's conception of a young archangel. Stacey staggered on, but the drum corps was suddenly silent, and there was no shout as he passed the cadet contingent. They and he knew that the contest was now hopeless. He did not look up at Milly. He knew, without looking, that she was applauding his rival, who had won the race and was now being borne off the field on the shoulders of his rejoicing comrades, amidst their delirious cheers. Stacey finished the course, then stalked moodily a little distance and sat down upon the grass, with his forehead resting on his knees. His disappointment was very bitter. The Woodpecker, who had not run in this race, came up to Stacey with his bath-gown, which he threw thoughtfully about the exhausted runner.

"Played out, are you, Stacey?" he asked kindly. "Well, I don't wonder; you tired yourself out keeping up with Armstrong in the bicycle race. You made staving good time then, but you'd ought to have saved yourself and put in the licks now, old chap. Never mind, we all know what your record has been."

"I don't care beans for my own record," groaned Stacey, "but I've lost the school the cup, and I can never look the fellows in the face again."