Chapman Allen
Fred Fenton Marathon Runner: The Great Race at Riverport School

CHAPTER IX
AT THE TOLL-GATE

"Are you sure of that, Bristles?" asked Fred, upon hearing his chum make such an astonishing assertion with regard to that tawdry breastpin picked up in the cave.

"Fred, you c'n see for yourself that while this is a mighty cheap old thing, it's made in a queer shape," Bristles went on to say.

"All of which is true, I admit," the other confessed.

"Well, you know I've always been a great hand for noticing things," said

Bristles.

"Sure you have," interrupted Colon, who was listening intently, although it was all "Greek" to him; "and 'specially when they happen to be connected with a pretty girl."

Bristles grinned as he turned on the tall chum.

"Oh! rats!" he exclaimed, "you're off your base this time, Colon, because she was a homely little thing, and with clothes on that I'd hate to see a sister of mine wearing. But I say again, and I'll keep on saying it – Sadie, if that was her name, was wearing this same brooch the day we pulled her brother Sam out of the river, when he'd broke into an airhole."

"You understand what that might mean, don't you, Bristles?" pursued Fred.

"Why, I reckon now you're trying to make me see that the boy'n girl might have had something to do with the stealing of Mr. Periwinkle's money and papers," was the way Bristles answered him.

"If the girl was here, the boy must have been, too," said Fred.

"But gee whiz! Fred, that youngster didn't look as if he had half enough nerve to do a thing like that," urged Bristles, scornfully.

"Oh! he had nerve enough, never fear," Fred went on to remark, "for you may remember he never gave a single peep himself, and it was the girl who did the shouting for help."

"Might have been scared too much," suggested Colon, wanting to have some say in the matter.

"No, I don't think he was," replied Fred, "because the girl told us he kept urging and demanding that she hold back and not try to help him, because his one fear seemed to be she would fall in too. But there's one thing we haven't seemed to figure on before, Bristles."

"Say, I just bet you're going to spring that uncle on ne," remarked the other, with surprising quickness.

"Why not," demanded Fred, "when we have learned that Corny Ludson has charge of the boy and girl, and must have been here in this cave with them. There was a man here, because I've found signs of his smoking several cheap cigars, throwing the stubs around afterwards."

"What's that?" cried Colon, just then; "say that name again for me, won't you?"

"Why, Corny Ludson, a man who seems to be uncle or guardian or something to the boy we pulled out of the Mohunk, the last time we ran my iceboat up river," Bristles informed him.

Colon looked happy. No longer was he to remain "sitting on the fence," without feeling he had any particular interest in the game. Circumstances had managed it so that he could now enter the free-for-all race, and take his place in line.

"Now that's a rather odd name, you'll admit, boys," he started to say in his slow, shrewd fashion, "and it's not likely that there'd be two Corny Ludsons around this section of country; likewise having a couple of half-grown kids along in the bargain."

"Go on, Colon; it begins to look like you knew something we want to hear the worst way," Bristles urged.

"Here's the way it stands, then, fellows," the obliging Colon continued.

"At first I didn't just catch the last name when you spoke about Sam and

Sadie. That is why I didn't break in sooner. But Ludson gives it away.

He's the same man Mr. Peets the butcher was talking about one day some little time ago."

"Yes, but tell us what he said, can't you?" urged Bristles.

"You see, I was in there waiting to be served, and the butcher was talking with Judge Wallace. I don't know how it came about they got to arguing, but seemed that Mr. Peets wanted to back up something he said, and so he started in to tell about a man that had just left the shop, having two children along, after buying the cheapest kind of a cut. Said his name was Corny Ludson, and that once he used to be a rich man over in New Brunswick, but he'd lost all he had, and now depended on his wits for a mighty poor living."

"That all sounds pretty, interesting, Colon; but if there's any more, suppose you get along and give us the same," Bristles told him.

"I remember I heard Mr. Peets say he didn't like the looks of the man," continued the one who was giving the story; "and then he went on to explain that he considered himself a good reader of character, which allowed him to size the said Ludson up as a trickster who wouldn't stop at taking things belonging to other people, if he believed he could do it without getting caught!"

"Bully!" exclaimed Bristles; "that covers the bill to a dot, doesn't it Fred? Sure Corny must have believed he saw a good chance to grab this tin box belonging to Mr. Periwinkle, and not get the hooks in him. He did it, too, and has been living on the proceeds of the robbery ever since."

"There must be something mysterious about the man, then," remarked Fred.

"And it might pay for someone to get in touch with the people over in New

Brunswick, so as to find out whether he did live there once, a rich man, and why he cleared out."

"That's right, Fred," observed Bristles. "When people fight shy of their native place, it pays to learn the reason. Course sometimes they have a good cause for keeping away, but lots of 'em do so because they dassen't go back. But I'm meaning to keep this queer little pin."

"And if you happen to run across Sadie Ludson again, you'll give it back to her, won't you?" Fred asked him.

"Just what I had in mind, to a dot," admitted Bristles. "I might tell her where I picked it up, too, and see what she'd say."

"Well, even if you did get her to admit that she'd been here, that wouldn't prove anything, would it?" queried Colon.

"We'd know Corny had been camping in this cave," said Bristles, sturdily, "and from the fact that we picked up this same tin box, empty, it'd look pretty much as if he ought to know something about it. They'd call that circumstantial evidence."

"And if the boy and girl had to be questioned by Judge Wallace they might he coaxed to confess that they'd seen their uncle handling this tin box," added Fred. "That would fix the blame without any question."

"Something may come of our find," Colon went on to say, now feeling that he had a perfect right to count himself in the game, "and on that account I reckon you'd be doing the right thing to keep both the pin and the box, boys."

"And all we ask of you, Colon," Bristles suggested, "is that you stick mum. Let Fred run the thing. If he wants any help, he'll tell us, so we c'n assist."

"Oh! I'll be a clam," asserted the tall runner with a chuckle, "and once I give my word, nobody ever knew me to break it. But say, doesn't it feel kind of chilly down here? Remember we haven't any too much on in the way of clothes, and for one I was a little heated after my run to catch up with you fellows."

"That's where your head is level, Colon," Fred told him, "and so we might as well climb out of this. I'm happy to know I didn't even sprain an ankle when I dropped down through that hole."

They found no great difficulty in gaining the outside world again, for the stones offered a substantial footing. So it came about that presently the three chums were once more moving along at a fair pace, being desirous of throwing off that chilly feeling.

It turned out that Fred's calculations were correct "to a hair," as Bristles triumphantly declared, when they burst upon the road just fifty yards above the Belleville toll-gate.

"That's figuring some for you!" he exclaimed, as soon as they had sighted the inclined pole that signified the presence of the barrier where every vehicle had to halt and pay the regular tariff, according to the number of wheels, or of the horses it took to draw the load.

They had hung on to the defunct dog in spite of all their hurrying, for that plan to let the farmers of the community know they were rid of their greatest pest still clung to the boys' minds.

Bristles was looking ahead as they advanced along the road, and about this time was heard to give vent to an exclamation.

"Would you believe it?" he cried. "If there isn't the wagon at the toll-gate belonging to that old farmer I heard telling about the dogs that'd played havoc with his sheep! And I reckon now, he'll be right glad to see the leader of the pack laid out as we've got him!"

CHAPTER X
BRISTLES' SURPRISE PARTY

"That's a queer coincidence, if you'd care to call it by that name," remarked Colon, who liked once in a while to make use of some long word.

"It simply shows that we had long heads when we made up our minds to lug this old tramp dog all the way here, just to prove our story," Fred observed.

"That was your scheme, Fred, all right," Bristles quickly asserted.

"No more than the rest of you," he was instantly told, for Fred never liked to be given sole credit for anything unusual, when he had chums along. "All the same, I guess the old farmer will be tickled half to death to know the sheep-killing pack has been broken up for good."

"You think our knocking the leader out is going to do that, do you,

Fred?" asked Colon.

"In nine cases out of ten that's the way things go. There's a keystone to every arch, and when you remove that, the whole thing tumbles down."

"My idea to a dot," asserted Bristles, doggedly. "Chances are the rest of those curs have started on the run for their old homes before this; and unless another leader springs up, which isn't likely, we've seen the last of the sheep-killers. But hold on, fellows, perhaps we can have a little fun with the old farmer."

"How?" asked Colon, not at all unwilling.

"He doesn't seem to be about his wagon just now, you notice?" ventured

Bristles.

"Knows the toll-gate keeper right well," explained Colon, "because he's been coming past here, year in and year out, a long time now. Like as not he's stepped in to sit and talk, or else sample something wet. But I hope now, Bristles, you don't mean to start the team off on the run, or something like that, just to see an old man rush after 'em?"

"What d'ye take me for?" demanded the other, indignantly. "I leave all such mean tricks to Buck Lemington, Clem Shooks, Ben Cushing and that crowd. Here's where we might play an innocent little joke on the farmer, and he'll laugh as hard as we do when he catches on. It's the dog – let's sneak up back of the wagon, and lift the thing in. Then you leave the rest to me."

Colon waited to hear what Fred said. He was accustomed to depending to some extent on the opinion of this chum, to whom the boys usually looked as their leader.

"I should think that was fair enough, Bristles," Fred quickly announced. "We're intending to give the farmer a pleasant little surprise party, that's all. Have it your way, then. Here, let's move around a little, so they won't sight us from the open door of the toll-gate house."

It was a very simple matter to do this, and presently they had deposited the already stiffening body of the sheep-destroying dog in the bed of the wagon, where it certainly presented a very gruesome appearance, with its four feet sticking up in the air.

This done, the boys walked around, and onto the little porch that was spread out before the door of the cottage.

Voices reached their ears, and it was evident that their presence had been discovered, for two men immediately came out. Bristles noticed that the old farmer was even then brushing the back of his hand across his lips, thus indicating that he had been sampling a glass of hard cider, a specialty of the toll-gate keeper.

"Hello! Mr. Jenks!" remarked Bristles, who, it seemed, knew the keeper. "We're up here to look over the ground for the big Marathon race that's coming off before long."

The farmer had started toward his team, but hearing this, he stopped to listen.

"I reckoned as much as soon as I see you boys in your running togs," the tollgate keeper went on to say, affably enough, "because there was a gent up here only yesterday that said he represented the committee, and that they expected to have what they called a registering station here at the toll-gate, though I don't just know what that really means."

"Why, you see, in a long gruelling run of twenty-five miles," explained Bristles, "it's necessary to have certain places a few miles apart, and especially at turns in the course, where every contestant enters his name in his own handwriting, as well as the time he passed there."

"You don't tell me!" exclaimed Mr. Jenks. "But what's all that tomfoolery for? Strikes me they go to a heap of trouble for next to nothing."

"Why, you see," continued Bristles, "these races have to be above suspicion. The committee doesn't want anybody to be able to say there was any crooked work about the run. The fellow who wins must have beaten every competitor fairly. And by this system of registering they have a complete record of the race. No one can cut across lots and cheat, without its showing in the record."

"Oh! now I understand you, my lad, and I guess it's a good thing. That gent was a fine one, and he said I had the best – but never mind what he said. How far have you come this time, boys?"

"This is over half the distance," explained Fred, "and we're on the home stretch right now. But we're not trying for a record to-day. Fact is, we're just feeling out the ground. The next time we come we'll stop only a minute, as if we were registering, and be off, for that's when we'll be trying it out to see what our time is."

"Oh! excuse me," said Bristles, as he saw the old farmer once more turn toward his rig, as though he felt he must be going on, "but didn't I hear you telling someone in the market the other day that you'd lost a number of sheep lately?"

The old man frowned, and shook his head sadly.

"Three of my best, and I reckons that if things keep on the way they're goin', I won't have any flock left purty soon, boy," he replied.

"And you said the damage had all been done by a pack of wild dogs, didn't you?" continued Bristles.

"Anybody with one eye could see that, by the way the sheep was mangled, and the pad of the prints around. They're gettin' to be a terror up here. Jenks kin tell you how he's heard the lot carrying on like Cain over in the woods there nights."

"Did you ever see the pack, mister?" asked Bristles.

"Well, I can't say as I really and truly has, son, but I do believe I knows what the wust of the lot looks like," the farmer told him.

"How was that, sir?" asked the boy, eagerly. He saw the old man shrug his broad shoulders, while a whimsical look appeared on his sunburned face.

"Jest because I set on a limb, and looked down at the critter three whole hours, till he got so pizen hungry he slunk off, and let me get home. He come nigh ketchin' me afore I cud git up in a tree; and from the looks of them ugly fangs, chances are he'd a-tore me right bad."

"Then I should think you'd know that dog again if ever you saw him?" suggested Bristles, with a wink toward his chums.

"I hopes I'll never have the bad luck to see him alive again!" declared the old farmer, as he started to climb up to the seat of his wagon.

"Now watch the circus!" hissed Bristles.

The farmer had just about drawn himself up when they heard him give utterance to a startled exclamation, for he found himself facing the uninvited passenger in the back of his open wagon bed. Had Bristles been more inclined to be cruel, he might have fixed the dog so that he would appear lifelike, and in the attitude of springing.

The farmer remained there as though turned into stone. Then he managed to recover his wits, and burst out into a shout.

"It's the same pizen critter!" he exclaimed joyously, "and keeled over at last! But I'd like to know – say, you don't meant to tell me now, boys, 'twas you that done for that turrible beast?"

"Well," said Bristles, trying hard not to look too important, "they tackled us in the woods, and it was either us or him, so we managed to pound the leader until he kicked the bucket, and the rest of the pack lit out. I guess that combine's broken up for good, mister. You won't lose any more of your sheep, believe me."

The old man got down, and insisted upon shaking hands all around, he felt so delighted over the new turn affairs had taken.

"And the next time I go to Riverport, I'll tell what a fine thing you boys did up here," he remarked, as the three runners prepared to start down the road, heading for the home town.

On the way it was finally decided that they would go to the office of the Chief of Police and tell him about finding the empty tin box, but not say a thing in connection with that pin. Afterwards, Fred said, they might see Mr. Periwinkle, So as to learn whether the tin box was really his property.

They felt uncertain as to just what their duty might be in a case like this, for while it seemed only right that the guilty one should suffer, at the same time both Fred and Bristles remembered what sorrowful faces that brother and sister had, and they could not find it in their hearts to do anything likely to add to the burdens the children already had to bear.

So the case rested as the days passed. Though unknown to the boys, a time was coming, and near at hand, when the mystery of the tin box was bound to be explained.

CHAPTER XI
ON THE GREEN CAMPUS

A group of merry boys and girls, after school hours, had gathered on the campus, and were chatting at a lively rate. This was a week after Fred and his two companions had gone over the course that previous Saturday, to judge of the difficulties they were likely to encounter when the great race came off.

Preparations had gone steadily on, and the time that must elapse before the Marathon was run could be measured in days. The greatest excitement reigned among the young people of Riverport, and it was said that both the neighboring towns were worked up to fever-heat on account of the prospective race.

Mechanicsburg welcomed another chance to even the score, which had too often been in favor of her closest rival, and even Paulding boasted that long distance running might be called her "best hold," since she had several lads who were apt to prove wonders at that game.

On the whole, such intense interest had never before been aroused in school circles in the three rival towns. Hundreds could hardly wait for the day to come when, in the presence of unequaled crowds, the question of supremacy would be decided once for all.

There was Flo Temple, a very pretty, attractive girl, whom Fred always took to dances, and skated with on the river; her chum Cissie Anderson, a little addicted to slang, though witty, and "fetching," as Sid Wells was heard to admit many a time, even when she had rubbed it into him pretty hard; and last, but not least, that energetic sister of Sid's, Mame Wells, a girl who could play almost any game that boys did, and fairly well at that.

The girls seemed to be having no end of fun about something or other, and the crowd laughed at their sallies. Even the victims themselves, took it goodnaturedly, knowing that it was all in good sport.

"The chosen few who are going to do the honors for Riverport in this wonderful race!" Cissie was saying, with a look of pretended concern on her pink and white face. "Don't we pity them, though, girls? They say they're at the training table now, and have to give up pies, and all sorts of other good things. Look at their faces, and see what a woebegone expression has settled there. Every time I glimpse at Sid and Fred, I have to think of a funeral, or a famine."

"Yes, it must be a dreadful thing to have to actually starve yourself, and all for the sake of getting in what they call condition," Mame Wells remarked. "Why, for the first time in all his life, Sid has to get up from the table before the dessert comes on. He says he just couldn't stand for it to stay, and see us all enjoying ourselves while he's shut out. Poor boy, I wish it was over for his sake."

"Why, they'll all be like walking skeletons if this keeps on much longer," Flo Temple, the doctor's daughter, broke in with. "I even told Fred he'd have to walk with a heavy cane, like an old man, before long, and I offered him one of father's, but he must have felt ashamed to take it, though I just know he wanted to."

"Oh! well," observed Corney Shay, slyly, "a heavy stick like that is a mighty nice thing to have along with you, when you're coming home awful late at night," and of course that caused a great laugh, as well as the blushes to flash up in the cheeks of pretty Flo.

"But don't any of you try to pity us, and think we're suffering for want of a decent meal," Fred told them. "Training table simply means that you've got to drop pastry, and all such silly things as that. We eat beefsteak and chops and eggs just as much as we want to, most vegetables, fish and fruits, and even plain cake. Why, it's the finest thing a boy can do, to try training for a month, and every fellow would be better off for doing it."

"Then the daily runs we take, and the other exercise in the bargain," added Sid, "is making our flesh as hard as nails. Just feel that muscle, will you?" and he flexed his arm as he held it out toward the gray-eyed Cissie, who of course, after duly feeling of it, gave Sid a sly pinch that made him jump.

Everybody knew that Fred and Flo were good chums, and were nearly always together. It was that very fact that had made Buck Lemington dislike Fred so much in the beginning. Buck had aspirations in that quarter himself, and there had been a time, before the other boy came to town, that he acted as escort to the doctor's pretty daughter, when they were all much younger than now.

"I hear that the course has all been laid out at last," remarked a small but lively high school boy, a cousin of Colon. He really had a first name, though most people seemed to have forgotten to say "Harrison," for everywhere he went by the appellation of Semi-Colon, as compared with the lengthy one.

"We were told the same thing," Flo ventured to say, "but twenty-five miles seems a terribly long way to run. My father is to examine every applicant, because they say it would be dangerous for any boy not in the best of condition to start out, and undergo the strain that a long race causes. So if any of you has a weak heart I'm sorry for you."

"Don't waste your pity on Fred, then, Flo," said Cissie, "because you ought to know his heart's all right. Besides, we've seen him put to the test, and feel sure he'll do good old Riverport High credit. So will they all. There isn't a girl in town but firmly believes the race is bound to come to our school," and she gave Sid an arch look that caused him to nod his head in delight.

"One thing sure," said Fred, gallantly, "every fellow is bound to make the greatest effort of his life, after learning how the Riverport girls have faith in him. I can speak for myself and Sid here, as well as Bradley Morton and Colon, who are absent. If we all fail to land the prize, it'll be because there are better long distance runners in the other towns, and not on account of our flunking."

"They say that to-morrow the four who have been selected to be Riverport entries expect to make the run from start to finish, just to get acquainted with the course, and time themselves; is that so, Fred?" asked Mame, who undoubtedly sincerely mourned the fact, as she had often done before, that she was a girl, and hence debarred from all these glorious times.

"Yes, we expect to do something like that, if the weather allows," Fred admitted, "but of course time isn't going to cut much of a figure in it with us. We'll leave all that to the big day, and content ourselves by getting familiar with the lay of the land, finding out all the bad places, and figuring how best to save a minute here or half of one there. That's what is going to count in the final reckoning, the chances are."

"Yes, and it stands for the Fred Fenton type of highest strategy," said Sid, who could praise a friend without feeling the slightest touch of envy. "Being prepared means a heap, in war or in sporting matters. That's one reason we're dieting right now, so as to put ourselves in the finest possible physical condition."

"And lots of people just think when there's a Marathon race like this," ventured little Semi-Colon, "that a pack of crazy boys just strip to their running togs and start pell mell across country without a particle of system whatever. It's all wrong, because every move is mapped out beforehand by the wise ones. They know just what they can do in the way of speed, and how much reserve they're holding back against the rush over the home stretch. That last is where the agony always comes in, 'specially if the race is a close one. Many a fellow's been known to just crawl under the tape, too weak to stand up, yet wild to win."

"Well, let's hope nothing like that happens in our Marathon," said Mame, with a solicitous look toward her handsome brother, of whom she was very fond.

"Oh! well," Sid hastened to explain, to allay her fears, "this is only a boys' run, you know; when regular athletes compete they set a faster pace than any of us can show; and then the distance is generally much further than twenty-five miles."

"Here comes Colon now," remarked Cissie, who often tormented the tall athlete with her witty remarks.

"He looks more mysterious than ever," remarked Mame Wells, "and I shouldn't be surprised now if Colon were hatching up some bright game for that glorious day of the long race. Not that he'd play any trick that wasn't honest, but you all know how he likes to pretend to be beaten until close to the end, and then fairly fly ahead of every competitor."

"Colon is going to make Riverport proud of him, you mark my words," said Fred, lowering his voice, for the object of their conversation was now close by, and covering ground at a tremendous pace with those long legs of his, which some of the boys had often compared to a pair of architect's dividers.

"Hello, everybody!" Colon called out, as he came up. Then, crooking his finger toward Fred, he went on to say, "Would you mind stepping aside, Fred, and giving me just a minute or two? Something important, or I wouldn't bother you."

Of course the group of boys and girls laughed, and called them a pair of conspirators, planning some sly game whereby victory might perch on the purple and gold banner of Riverport High.

"What's up, Colon?" asked Fred, as soon as they were beyond earshot of the noisy crowd, for he saw that the tall fellow looked quite serious indeed.

"Remember what we said about that Corny Ludson, don't you, Fred?"

"Why, yes, we concluded to let matters rest, and wait to see if anything new would turn up," replied the other, "but why do you say that, Colon?"

"Oh! because Corny's shown up in Riverport again, and it might mean he's got another sly robbery in view," Colon calmly remarked.