# The Purple Pennant/Chapter 25

GO it, Kirke!"
Perry turned to find Lanny at his elbow, Lanny enveloped in a brown bath-robe and minus his crutch. Then the shouts of the crowd at the finish drew Perry's gaze down the track again as the flying figures crossed the line. From back there it was hard to say who had been placed, but presently, as the sprinters returned, Lanny hurried stiffly to meet Kirke.
"All right, Orson?" called Lanny. Kirke shook his head, smiling and panting.
"I'm out," he answered. "Soper's placed, though. I was fourth."
"Hard luck," said Lanny. "You'll make it in the two-twenty, though." He returned to where Perry was standing. "Funny that Kirke let Soper beat him," he said. "He's been finishing ahead of Soper right along, hasn't he?"
"Yes, but I think Kirke's better in the two-twenty. Are you going to run, Lanny?"
​Lanny pursed his mouth grimly. "I don't believe it will be running, but I'm going to start just for fun."
"But won't it hurt your leg?" asked Perry anxiously.
"Doc says so, but he's an old granny. I won't be able to finish, I guess, but I hate not to have a shot at it."
"Griner!" called the Clerk of the Course. "Stratton! Stratton?"
"Withdrawn," someone answered. The Clerk's pencil went through the name.
"White?"
"Here," replied Lanny as he took his place.
"Powers?"
"All right, sir."
"Hill?"
"That should be Hull, sir," said Lanny.
"Hull?"
"Here, sir," replied Perry, joining the others.
"That's all, then, Mr. Starter. Only four."
"Are you all ready, boys?" asked the starter. "On your marks! Hold on there, Number 7! Don't try that or you'll get set back. On your marks! . . . Set! . . ."
The pistol banged and the four jumped away. Perry, on the outer side of the straightaway, was in ​his stride the first of the three and, halfway down the track, shot a side-long look at the others. Lanny was not in sight, but the nearer Springdale youth was a yard or so behind and the further one running about even. As the first three were to be placed, Perry slowed up and took it easy, finishing a close third. Half way down the track Lanny was being helped over the strings to the turf. Perry, turning back, heard a timer say laughingly: "Fast time, Jim; ten and four-fifths!" Lanny was seated on the turf ruefully holding his injured knee when Perry reached him.
"I'm sorry, Lanny," he said. "Did you fall?"
"No, I just found I couldn't do it, Perry. How's the track?"
"Fine! Say, I wish Kirke had got placed. They've got four to our two in the final."
"Never mind, you or Soper will get a first. Those chaps aren't fast. Give me a pull up, will you?"
Perry got back into his dressing-gown and joined the throng across the field, at the finish of the 440-yards. Sears, Todd and Cranston lined up for the Purple in the quarter-mile and Springdale placed five runners at the mark, amongst them Davis, the Blue's captain. It was Davis who took the lead at the end of the first hundred yards and, although ​hard-pressed by Toby Sears and a second Springdale runner, kept it to the tape. At the turn Davis was two yards to the good and Sears was leading the third man by a scant two feet. Todd was in fifth place and the other Clearfield entrant in seventh. At the beginning of the stretch Sears gained half the distance separating him from Davis, and until well down the track it looked as if he might get the lead. Davis, however, had plenty of reserve and forty yards from the finish it was evident that Sears had shot his bolt. Davis finished first by three yards and a second Springdale runner ousted Sears from second place almost at the tape. Springdale had made a good start with eight points to Clearfield's one, and the Blue's adherents cheered approvingly.
The high hurdles followed and again Springdale triumphed, getting first and third place. Beaton finished second but was disqualified for upsetting too many hurdles, and Peyton got the honor. The time was eighteen seconds flat and bettered the dual meet record by a fifth of a second.
In the final of the 100-yards dash Perry and Soper were opposed to four wearers of the blue. Perry, digging his holes, tried to recall all the good advice Mr. Addicks had given him, but couldn't remember much of anything. His heart ​was beating very fast and he was as nearly frightened as he had been for a long time. He looked over at Soper, who had drawn the inside lane, and saw that even that more experienced runner was plainly nervous. Then the starter's voice came and Perry settled his toes in the holes, crouched and waited.
"Set!"
Some over-anxious Springdale sprinter leaped away and it had all to be gone through with again. But at last the pistol sounded and Perry, without knowing just how he had got there, found himself well down the track, his legs flying, his arms pumping up and forward and down and back, his lungs working like a pair of bellows and the cries and exhortations of the spectators in his ears. A youth with blue stripes down the seams of his fluttering trunks was a good yard in the lead and Perry, with three others, next. Someone, and Perry silently hoped it wasn't Soper, was no longer in sight. Perry put the last gasp of breath and last ounce of strength into the final twenty yards in a desperate effort to overtake that Springdale runner, but it wasn't until they were almost at the tape that he knew he had gone ahead, and then, as he threw his arms up, a third white-clad figure flashed past!
A half-minute later Perry learned that Soper had ​won and that he had finished in second place by a scant two feet. Soper's time was ten and a fifth. Perry had feared that the form which had flashed to the front at the tape had been that of a Springdale runner and was so relieved that it didn't occur to him until some time later to either regret that he had not finished in first place or congratulate himself on capturing second. But Guy Felker, after hugging Soper, almost wrung Perry's hand off.
"That was bully!" he repeated over and over. "That was bully! We get eight out of it and didn't count on more than four! You're all right, Hull! Better rest up now, boy. Remember the two-twenty's coming. Hello, Lanny! What do you say to that? Wasn't it bully?"
Perry received Lanny's praise and, rather embarrassed, went back for his robe. He wondered if Mr. Addicks had seen him, and he tried to catch sight of that gentleman in the audience. But half the folks were still standing on their feet and shouting and it was no use. He wished Mr. Addicks might have been down here on the field to-day. As he passed the blackboard a boy was writing the new figures down.
"Clearfield, 12; Springdale, 15," was the announcement.
​He tried to figure out how that could be, but was far too excited. When he had wrapped his robe around him he went back to the dressing-room for a rub, crossing the track just ahead of the half-milers who were coming around the turn. He stopped and watched them pass. Todd was running in third place, hugging the rim closely, and Lasker was on his heels. Train was one of a bunch of four who trailed a couple of yards back. Springdale had entered five men to Clearfield's three. Perry missed the finish of the half-mile, but Beaton brought the news into the dressing-room presently. Only Lasker had been placed, winning second. Linn of Springdale had finished first by nearly thirty yards in two minutes, eight and two-fifths seconds. Todd had been in the lead for the whole of the third lap but hadn't been able to keep it. He and Train had been a half-lap behind at the end.
"What's the score now, Arthur?" asked someone.
Beaton shook his head wryly. "Springdale's about twenty-one, I think, to our fifteen. We've got to begin and do something pretty soon. Guy's got first in the high-jump cinched, though. They're almost through."
"How's the shot-put getting on?" Perry asked.
"Not finished yet," replied Beaton. "I guess ​they've got it, though." He hurried out in response to imperative requests for low hurdlers, and Perry followed presently. The 220-yards-hurdle trials had brought out seven entrants and so two preliminary dashes were necessary. Fortunately, perhaps, the two Clearfield candidates, Beaton and Peyton, were not drawn for the same trial. As a result Peyton easily won in his event from three Springdale fellows and Arthur Beaton finished second without hurrying in the next trial. Then the hurdles were quickly lifted aside and the milers began to assemble at the starting point.
Springdale had been conceded this event two weeks ago, but in his last time-trial Smith, of Clearfield, had gone over the course in the commendable time of five minutes and six and two-fifths seconds and the Purple was entertaining a secret hope that Smith might somehow prove too good for the Blue's crack runner. Eight fellows started, three for Clearfield and five for Springdale. The policy of the latter school was evidently to start as many fellows in each event as possible on the chance of displacing a Clearfield entrant. In the present case it was speedily apparent that at least two of Springdale's milers were not expected to finish.
At the end of the first of the four laps the race had settled into two divisions—Smith, Toll and ​Tupper, wearers of the purple C, running well ahead with an equal number of Springdale fellows, and the other two of the Blue's force lagging a hundred yards behind. Wallace, the Springdale hope, was allowing one of his teammates to set the pace and was right on his heels. Two feet behind him trotted Smith, followed by Tupper, a third Springdale runner, and Toll. The six were hugging the rim and watching each other craftily. In that order they passed around the first turn. Then Toll began to go ahead and the challenge was accepted by the third Springdale man. Toll finally ran even with Wallace in the backstretch and on the next turn dropped into the lead.
The half-distance found daylight between Wallace and Smith, and the former pace-maker fell back into fourth place. At the turn Toll began to hit it up. Wallace sped close behind him. Smith came next, some four yards back. Strung out behind Smith were a second blue runner, Tupper, and, dropping back every moment, the last Springdale runner. In that order they came down the straightaway, passed the mark and went doggedly on, to the ringing of the gong announcing the last lap. The stands were shouting confusedly. The leaders passed the two lagging Springdale runners before the turn was begun. As Toll led the way ​into the backstretch it was evident that he was about done for and a rod or two further along Smith fairly leaped into the lead, taking Wallace by surprise. But the three or four yards which he gained were quickly cut down. Tupper closed in on Wallace but could not pass him, and as the next turn was reached began to fall back.
Smith, with Wallace close on his heels, entered the straightaway, running desperately. Behind him, some ten yards back, came a second Springdale man, and, twenty yards or so behind him, Tupper and a third wearer of the blue were fighting it out. For a moment it seemed that Smith might win, but fifty yards from the tape Wallace uncorked a sprint that swept him past Smith and well into the lead, while the next Springdale runner, head back, challenged Smith for second place and slowly closed up the distance between them. Wallace crossed a good six yards ahead and Smith, running now on pure nerve, saw the second blue adversary edge past him a few feet from the line.
Smith staggered as he crossed and fell limply into the outstretched arms of Skeet. Tupper finished fourth, almost as exhausted, and the others trailed in one by one. The pace had been a fast one, the winner's time being caught at five minutes, five and one-fifth seconds, and Smith, finish​ing third, had run the distance well under his best record.
By that time the result of the high-jump was being announced, and Clearfield had won first place and halved third. Felker had cleared the bar at five feet and six inches, a Springdale jumper had secured second place with five feet and five and a half inches and Todd had tied with a Springdale fellow at five-feet-four. A moment later the figures showing the score were changed again. With just half the events decided, Clearfield had 21½ points and Springdale 32½.