CHAPTER XXXII
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
"Here comes the Exter bunch!" was a sudden cry.
There was the shrill, staccato tooting of a "yard of tin," on the bigtally-ho coach that carried the athletes, their manager and trainers.Gaily bedecked in ribbons it was, and behind came several othervehicles, autos and coaches mingling, carrying the crowd of Extercollegians, who sent cheer after cheer ringing across the grounds of thepark.
"They're coming in style," remarked Miss Harrison.
"Wait until you see them go away," murmured Phil. "They won't cheerthen."
"Don't be too certain," cautioned Miss Newton.
"That's all right," went on Phil. "We're going to win. I feel it in mybones."
"Look at those boys!" interrupted Miss Tyler. "Those Exter chaps I mean.They're waving right at us, girls! And we haven't met any of them. Theaudacity!"
"Can't blame them much, for picking out the prettiest crowd of girlshere," ventured Tom.
"Oh, thank you!" chorused the four.
"Humph! Those Exterites have their nerve with them all right," commentedPhil. "I hope we take 'em down a peg."
"Say, if you fellows are going to take part in the games to-day, get amove on!" cried Holly Cross, running up at that juncture. "You want towarm up before the events. Come on! the girls will manage to livewithout you for a while, I guess, and you can come back later withcolors flying."
He bowed and smiled at the pretty quartette, and then Tom and his chums,once more predicting that they were going to carry the colors of Randallto the fore, hurried away.
The Exter crowd, after cheering for their three opponents, who, in turn,cheered the latest arrivals, took their place in the grandstand reservedfor them. The contestants hurried in to get on their togs, which examplewas followed by our friends.
"Look well to your shoe lacings," advised Holly to his crowd ofathletes. "Don't have anything slipping at the last minute. Haseverybody got everything he needs?"
At once there were cries for various things, from bottles of liniment,or witch hazel, to strips of adhesive plaster, or wrist straps.
"Say! I never saw such a bunch of babies!" complained Kindlings. "You'dforget your heads if they weren't fast."
He hurried here and there, looking after the lads as if they werechildren, unable to do anything for themselves. And, with all this,Kindlings himself expected to take part in several events, and he hadgrimly made up his mind to win some of them, at least.
"There goes the Boxer Hall crowd," commented Tom, looking from a windowof the dressing room, that gave a view of the field. "They're out forpractice."
"See anything of Langridge?" asked Sid.
"Yes, he's there, and Gerhart, too. I've got to run againsthim--Langridge I mean."
"And Gerhart is in the broad jump, I hear," added Sid. "Well, don't letthat worry you."
"I'm not," replied Tom, as he completed his preparations.
"Come on, fellows, get a move on," pleaded Holly, and soon those whowere going to fight for the honor of Randall tumbled out of the dressingrooms, and trotted across the track and field.
"There they are, boys! There they are!" yelled Bean Perkins, wildlywaving a much-beribboned cane at his crowd of shouters. "All togethernow! Give 'em, 'We're going to beat the three of you, and take yourwarlocks home!'"
The song was given with a will, and from then on there was a pandemoniumof sound, as the shouting contingents of the various colleges sought toput heart and courage into their representatives.
There was a final consultation of the arrangement committee, thestarters, timers, judges were given their instructions, and thecontestants were told to get in readiness. There had been some warm-uppractice, and scores of eager lads were but awaiting the crack of thepistol.
"Remember boys," Holly impressed on the Randallites. "We can't expect towin every event, but we've just got to get five out of the eight toclinch the championship. We've already lost the hurdle race, but if weget the mile run, the broad jump, the pole vault, a hammer throw and oneother we can win, for they count the most. Get more if you can, butremember, we need the five."
Wallace, the Exter manager, passed by, nodding to Holly and the others.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
"Sure," answered Holly heartily.
"No bad feelings, I hope, on account of our protest?"
"Not a bit. We're going to win anyhow; so what's the difference?"
"Nothing like feeling confident," commented Wallace, with a laugh."Sorry I can't wish you luck, but we need this championship ourselves."
"Come on now," ordered Kindlings, bustling up. "The fifty-six poundweight throwing comes first. On the job, Dutch. I hope you beat me, andthe same to you Barth." George Barth had been substituted, some timeback, for Bean Perkins, who said he would be of more service to Randallcheering for her, than competing in the weight-throwing contest.
"Oh, we'll win all right," asserted Dutch Housenlager, with an air ofeasy confidence, at which Kindlings shook his head.
There was a silence while the announcer made the statement about theopening event, and then, as the various contestants came forward, therewere cheers for the representatives of each college.
"Everybody ready?" asked the judge, as he glanced at the twelvecontestants lined up before him, for each college had entered three inthe fifty-six event.
There were nods of assent, and then a coin was flipped to determine theorder of succession. It fell to the lot of Fairview to go first, withBoxer Hall following, then Exter and finally Randall. Kindlings wasglad of this, for he regarded it as an advantage for his lads to try tobeat the records previously made by their opponents.
The Fairview lads stepped forward. They were husky, clean-cut youngfellows, and as the first one took his place in the white, seven-footcircle there was a little murmur of applause.
He grasped the weight confidently, and soon had it swinging well. He letgo with a puff of exertion, and watched anxiously as the distance wasmeasured.
"Eighteen feet four inches," was the announcement.
"We're safe so far," murmured Kindlings for he knew what Dutch could do.In quick succession the others of Fairview heaved the big ball with itstriangular handle. The record of the first lad was somewhat bettered,but it was soon seen that Fairview could not hope to win, for thedistances the other contestants had done in practice were fairly wellknown.
Boxer Hall bettered Fairview in this contest, her best man's distancebeing twenty-one feet, five and a half inches.
"We've got to go some to beat that," murmured Dutch.
"Oh, you can do it," declared Kindlings, hoping to put heart into thebig lad.
Now came Exter's turn, and with confidence her first contestant tookhis place. He equalled but did not beat Boxer Hall, and the second manfell below. Then came the third.
The lad on whom the hopes of Exter now depended was a magnificentspecimen. Tall and fair, a very picture of an athlete, he stooped overand grasped the handle of the weight. There was a smile on his lips, andhe seemed to look at Dutch as though challenging him individually.
"Go as far as you like, old man," murmured the Randall representative."I'll catch you."
There was a gasp of astonishment as the weight sailed away--astonishmentand admiration mingled for, it was easily seen that this throw was, sofar, the record-breaker.
"Wow!" gasped Kindlings as the weight landed. "Look out for yourself,Dutch."
"Twenty-eight feet, eight inches!" sung out the score keeper. It was agood throw, not equaling the best of the amateur records by a foot, butstill very fair.
"Now, Dutch, it's up to us," said Kindlings in a low voice. "I'll gofirst, Barth will follow, and you hold yourself for the last. Rememberwe've _got_ to win!"
"Um!" grunted Dutch, as Kindlings stepped into the circle.
He did not beat the Exter player's throw, in fact being three feetbehind it, and Barth was but little better.
"Come on, Dutch!" ordered K
indlings, and then from the grandstand cameone of Randall's songs chorused by Bean Perkins and his throng.
There was a hush as Dutch took up the weight, and as the muscles of hislegs swelled out during the preliminary swinging of it, it seemed as ifhe might win, for he was in perfect trim.
Over his head sailed the weight, to fall with a thud on the turf--a thudthat seemed loud amid the hush that followed.
There were anxious faces watching the scorer as he and his assistantsmeasured the distance, for everything now depended on this record Dutchhad made.
"Twenty-eight feet," sung out the official, and Dutch felt his heartsink. "And five inches," added the scorer. "The weight throwing contestgoes to Exter by three inches, with Randall second."
There was a riot of cheers from the Exter grandstand, and gloom andsilence on the part of Randall. She had lost the first event.
"He beat me by three inches--three inches," murmured Dutch, as if hecould not understand it.
"Never mind," consoled Kindlings. "You did ten inches better than youever did in practice, Dutch. It was a great throw, and--Oh, well, we'vegot a chance yet."
The preparations for the throwing of the sixteen pound hammer were nowunderway. The Jersey twins, Pete Backus, and Holly were entered in this,and as they had all done well in practice the hopes of Randall ran high.
"Beat 'em, boys, beat 'em!" called Tom Parsons, as the quartette wentforward to meet their opponents. At that moment Wallops, who, with someof the other Randall messengers, was on the ground approached Tom.
"Your father is looking for you, Mr. Parsons," he said.
"My--my father?" gasped Tom. "What do you mean? Is he here?"
"Yes, he just arrived. He's over talking to Dr. Churchill, and thedoctor sent me to find you. Your father wants to see you."
"Wants to see me," faltered Tom. There could be but one meaning to theunexpected visit, he thought. He must leave Randall.
For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics Page 32