3 Here they come!

Gerald poised himself in the second line of starters and waited eagerly, impatiently for the word. Then it came and he bounded off as though the race was a quarter-mile run instead of a three-mile jaunt over a hard road and some rough hills and meadows.

"Easy, Gerald!" cautioned Dan as the runners swept by. "Get your wind. Hey, Thompson! Hey, Joe! Stick to 'em!"

"There's that chap Hiltz," said Alf. "Didn't know he had enough energy to run. By the way, we mustn't forget about the Cambridge Society election next month. You've got to beat Hiltz out, you know, if we are to get Gerald in as we promised. Hiltz and Thompson were the Third Class members of the Admission Committee last year and I suppose they'll be up for election from the Second Class this year. We must find out about that, and if Hiltz is going to try to get in again you must do a little canvassing on your own hook. We'll organize a campaign. You can beat him, though, without trying, I guess."

"We made a mistake in thinking it was Thompson who blackballed Gerald in May, didn't we?"

"Yes, I guess Thompson's a pretty square sort of chap. He and Gerald are quite thick this year."

The runners trotted out of sight around a bend of the road and the three boys perched themselves on the top rail of the fence and, with the others, waited for the runners to return. Cross-country running was something new at Yardley. The sport had been growing in popularity among the colleges and from them was spreading to the preparatory schools. Broadwood, Yardley's chief rival, had sent a challenge in September and it had been accepted. Since then the school had been quite mad on the subject of cross-country running, and Andy Ryan, in the interims of his work with the football players, had been busy training candidates for a cross-country team to meet Broadwood. The dual meet was to take place on the morning of November 21st, on the afternoon of which day Yardley and Broadwood would clash in the final football game at Broadwood, some four miles distant. Each team was to consist of ten runners, and to-day's try-out was to enable the trainer to select a dozen of the numerous candidates, two of them to be substitutes. The newly formed team was to elect a captain that evening.

Cross-country running, however, didn't long engage the attention of the three on the fence. The conversation soon turned to football, which, since they were all players, was only natural. They discussed that afternoon's game with St. John's Academy, which, although of minor importance and not difficult, was the last of the preliminary contests and would settle the fate of more than one player.

"Don't forget, fellows, that I want to stop and see Payson on the way back," said Alf. "He thinks we ought to play two twenty-minute halves, but I think a twenty and a fifteen would be better. It will be fairly warm this afternoon. What do you say?"

"I don't care," answered Tom indifferently. "Let's play what they want to play."

"It isn't up to them," said Alf. "We fix the length of halves. It's all well enough for you, Tom; you're a regular ox for work; but some of the new chaps will feel the pace, I guess."

"How long will the halves be next week with Carrel's?" asked Dan.

"Twenty, I suppose. We don't usually play twenty-fives until the Brewer game."

"Then thirty-five minutes altogether ought to be enough for to-day, I would say. Although I don't care as far as I'm concerned."

"We'll stop and talk it over with Payson," said Alf. "Did you hear that Warren, the Princeton center of last year, is going to help coach at Broadwood this fall?"

"No, really?" asked Dan.

"That's what I heard. I wish we could get a good chap to help Payson. We ought to have some one to coach the back field on catching punts and running back; some one who could come down here after the Brewer game and put in two good hard weeks."

"How about that brother of yours?" asked Tom. Alf shrugged his shoulders.

"He won't be able to get away much. He's going to come when he can, but he knows only about line men. Considering the number of fellows we send to Yale I think they might help us out a little with the coaching."

"Have they ever been asked to?"

"Oh, a couple of years ago we tried to get them to send some one down, and they did send a chap for a week or so, but he wasn't much good; just stood around and criticized the plays we were using. What we need is some one who'll take his coat off and knock some plain horse-sense into the fellows. I think I'll talk to Payson about it and see what he thinks."

"Well, look here," said Tom. "Colton's on the Yale freshman team. Why not write to him and see what he can do?"

"Colton," answered Alf dryly, "was a great big thing when he was captain here last year, but just at present he's only one of some sixty or seventy candidates trying for a place on the freshman eleven. I guess he has all the trouble he wants. Look, isn't that one of our long-distance heroes footing it down the road there?"

"Yes," answered Dan. "Come on."

They jumped down and hurried over to the finish line.

"Here they come!" some one cried, and there was a rush for places of observation. Andy Ryan got his pencil ready and handed his stop watch to Alf.

"Take the time of the first three," he directed.