Frank Armstrong at College

by Matthew M. Colton

  CHAPTER X.

  THE TRY-OUTS AT CAMBRIDGE.

  It was the day of the try-outs at Cambridge when the best thatHarvard and Yale could muster were gathered to contest for a place onthe team which should meet Oxford and Cambridge.

  "One week more and we will be on the briny," observed Gleasonconfidently to Frank. The speaker, Jimmy and David had all journeyedto the big Stadium to see their classmate compete for a place.

  "Gleason, if you talk like that much more, you'll hoodoo me. Don'tforget that I'm a novice at this game. I've got about one chance inten."

  "You'll come through all right," said David Powers. "I've noticedthat you do pretty well under pressure."

  "As, for instance, football on the Yale Freshman team!--Go to, David,go to! I know what you fellows are trying to do. You're trying tokeep up my sinking spirits. Much obliged."

  Frank was dressing for the trials along with the point-winners of the'Varsity track team, but he felt strange and shy with the older andmore seasoned athletes. He was the only Freshman who had been takenwith the Yale squad, and his three friends, David, Jimmy and theCodfish, had made it a point to be with him.

  "I don't see any particular reason for anyone going over to representus in the broad jump anyway," said Frank.

  "How's that?" inquired someone.

  "Didn't you see the morning papers? No? Well, Vare, that Oxford man,jumped 23 feet 5 in practice, and they think over there there'snothing but England to this coming meet. All the prophets have itsettled."

  "I've heard of prophets slipping before now," said the Codfish gaily.

  "And Vare is a consistent jumper, better than 23 feet most of thetime, from all I can learn," went on Frank. "Cambridge has a prettygood jumper, too, better than we have, but away behind Vare. So ifthe unexpected happens and I should win out, which doesn't lookbright, I'd be nothing but an also-ran when it comes to the scratchover there."

  Out on the track where the contestants were now hurrying, a crowd ofofficials and friends were gathered along the straightaway and thevarious jumping pits. Halloby had already won his place in the highhurdles and was receiving the congratulations of his friends as hewalked smilingly back to the track house.

  "Good boy, Halloby," came the greeting from all sides. A Yale man hadbeen second. Both would be taken.

  Hotchkiss was at the jumping pit when Frank reached there, and wasengaged in marking with the greatest care the length of his stridesjust before the "take" of the jump so that he would get the bestresults. Up and down the runway he went, measuring and pacing. Hegave Armstrong a curt nod as he walked to the jumpers' bench to theright of the runway.

  Just as the quarter-mile ended, giving Harvard two men and Yale nonein this event, the broad jumping contest was started with Hotchkissleading off. On his first try, Hotchkiss overran the jumping block.McGregor, a Harvard man, cleared 21 feet 8 inches, another Harvardman 21 feet 6, and then it came Frank's turn.

  "Now, Armstrong," said the trainer as he walked down the runwaytoward the point where Frank had left his jersey as a starting mark."Keep your head, get a breeze up in those last six strides and hitthe block hard. Go ahead."

  Frank loped down the runway for perhaps fifty feet, speeding uptoward the middle of the run. Then within six or eight strides of theblock he burst into full speed, hit the block squarely, and shot intothe air. It looked like a magnificent jump but when he struck in thesoft sawdust and loam of the pit he could not hold the full distance,and fell backwards, breaking the ground a good three feet to the rearof where his heels first touched. Naturally, the jump was measuredfrom the block to the point where his hand broke the ground.

  "Twenty feet four inches," sang out the judge of the event.

  "This Yale Freshman isn't such a wonder, after all," whispered aHarvard competitor to another sitting next him on the bench. "If hecould have held his distance, it would have been a peach, though."

  "Your old fault, Armstrong," said Black coming over to him. "Thatjump was actually better than 23 feet. Now, try to stay up on yournext."

  As the trainer spoke, Hotchkiss came rushing down the runway. He gota perfect take-off, rose in the air, turned halfway round in hisflight, but held the distance he had made on the jump, which was amoment later announced to be 22 feet 10 inches.

  McGregor followed with a pretty jump of 22 feet 6, while his teammatedid not better his first jump, which was not good enough even to bemeasured.

  Again it was Frank's turn, and so well did he heed the coaching ofBlack that the judge gave him credit for 22 feet 8 inches, the secondbest jump of the afternoon. Hotchkiss still held the lead, however,and swaggered a little as he walked around. The jumpers followedeach other in rotation. Frank's next try was a failure, but on thefollowing one, gathering all his energies for a supreme effort, hesailed into the air like a bird.

  "Twenty-two feet ten and three-fourths inches," called the judge,showing in his voice an awakening interest in the event.

  Hotchkiss, stung at the thought that the Freshman had beaten his bestmark, showed very plainly in his preparations for his trials thathe meant to wipe him out. He moved his marks a trifle, stepped thedistance carefully, and then, seemingly satisfied, walked slowly tothe end of the runway.

  "He's peeved," remarked Turner.

  "What difference does it make to him anyway, he's sure to be taken,isn't he?" inquired David.

  "Hotchkiss is one of those chaps who hate to be anything but first."

  "He has a head like a rhinocer-hoss," said the Codfish. As he spoke,Hotchkiss turned at the far end of the runway. Every eye was on himnow, which was not at all displeasing to him. Down the runway he camelike a race horse, his gaze fixed steadily on the take-off blockwhere the supreme effort was to be made. But so great was his speedin his endeavor to eclipse all previous efforts that he struck theblock badly, sprang in the air, lost his direction and landed partlyin and partly out of the pit in an awkward straddle. Unable to keephis balance he fell over sideways on the hard ground and lay theregroaning.

  In an instant a half score of bystanders had run to the aid ofHotchkiss. He was picked up and set upon his feet, half stunned, butwhen he attempted to take a step, he sank down groaning.

  The trainer sprang to the side of the injured jumper. "Where is it?"he demanded.

  "My ankle," moaned Hotchkiss. "I twisted it in some way. Here, letme try it again." But try as he might, he could not bear a particleof weight on the injured leg, and had to be carried to the LockerBuilding in the arms of two of his teammates.

  Immediately a buzz of excited conversation rose.

  "That hurts our chances in England, doesn't it?" inquired one of theofficials.

  "Yes, it does. Hotchkiss was good enough to win over the Cambridgeman in case anything should happen to the Oxford man, Vare. He didn'thave a chance to beat Vare because Hotchkiss has never done as wellas 23 feet, while Vare is a consistent performer at several inchesbetter."

  "The broad jump is one of the events that we've got to count out,then, isn't it?"

  "It certainly is now," said the trainer. "If Armstrong had a yearmore of experience he'd give the Oxonian a good battle. Armstrong isa natural jumper, but has not perfected his form yet. It will takeanother year."

  When the excitement over the injury to Hotchkiss had passed, thetrials continued and Armstrong created a ripple of interest when onhis last trial he came within an inch of the coveted 23-foot mark.

  The result of the contest in the broad jump was that Armstrong,representing Yale, and McGregor, representing Harvard, were selectedfor the team. In all, twenty-six men were chosen that afternoonfor the fourteen events to be contested in England, fourteen fromHarvard and twelve from Yale. These men were the very flower of bothteams. In the hammer and shot events only two from each college wereselected since the best hammer throwers were also the best shotputters.

  To say that it was a jubilant quartet of boys who tumbled off thetrain at Milton, would be expressing it in weak terms.

  "Open up
the cupboard," cried Frank after the home greetings wereover. "You have four champion diners with you to-night."

  "A little soup, slice of mutton and toast for the athlete, Mrs.Armstrong. Frank isn't allowed to eat anything rich, you know,training table grub and all that."

  "You chase yourself around the block, Mr. Codfish. The training tablehas a rest for a solid week--apple dumplings, strawberry shortcakeand all the fixings belong to me."

  "Seems as if you had earned it, son," said Mr. Armstrong.

  "Grand little muscles, Mr. Armstrong," said the loquacious Codfish."Nice, hard and knotty, warranted pure steel, made in Germany--justfeel them, best set in Yale--delivery of goods guaranteed----"

  The dinner gong cut the speaker's flow of language short, but at thetable he kept the conversation moving at a lively pace.

  "Well, boys," said Mr. Armstrong, edging into the torrent of talk,"do you like Yale as well now as ever?"

  "Yale is great stuff," came the ready chorus.

  "It would be better if we didn't have so many studies," added theCodfish.

  "How's that?"

  "Well, a fellow just gets settled down to doing something likebaseball or football or track athletics when the recitations breakin. And the profs. get so peeved when a fellow isn't up to form thatthey have an unkind habit of flunking him."

  "And do you flunk, Mr. Gleason?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong.

  "Does he flunk! O, my!" laughed Jimmy.

  "I hold the record in the class," said the Codfish proudly. "Four inone day. Such a successful flunker that I have three conditions fornext year."

  "Conditions, what are they?"

  "O, just little attachments that they sometimes put onto Freshmen,"laughed Frank.

  "Have you any, Frank?" inquired his father.

  "In athletics a fellow has to keep up to the scratch, you know. If hedoesn't, he can't go into athletics. The Codfish is the free-lance."

  "Yes, he's gone into everything," interjected Jimmy, "and so farhasn't won a battle."

  "O, but he will," said Mrs. Armstrong.

  "Thank you for your confidence," said that individual rising andmaking a sweeping bow. "'Familiarity breeds contempt,' so they say,and my familiar roommates fail to see the outcroppings of genius asclearly as you do. I've nearly won several battles already."

  And then Jimmy gave the history of the Codfish's unsuccessfulonslaughts on the _News_, the Crew and the Mandolin Club to theamusement of the older members of the family.

  "The difficulty is," said the Codfish, "that the individual has nochance at college. It is all for the development of the average man,like Jimmy there, for instance. Genius is frowned upon. I could haverevolutionized the _News_ if they'd given me a little longer chanceat it."

  "Demoralized it, you mean," said Frank. "Mother, give me anotherpiece of that shortcake. My, but it tastes good after so muchtraining table."

  Training hours were broken that night, and for several nights tocome, for the boys played with as much vigor as they worked. ButFrank did not neglect his physical training. Swims at Seawall, whereour friends foregathered for the first time several years before,rowing, and walks in the country, kept him in trim for the work whichwas to come.