“It—it’s Bramwell!” declared the astounded president of the club. “He’s gaining on Huntley, too! Huntley is fagged! Bramwell seems fresh! It’s going to be a hot finish!” The excitement was growing, but it increased when a third runner appeared. “There’s Merriwell!” said Hodge, unable to keep still. It was Frank, and Bart saw he was gaining on both Bramwell and Huntley. Still he detected something wrong in Merry’s gait and began to suspect that an accident had befallen him. “That’s it—that’s what’s the trouble!” he muttered. “Otherwise he’d be leading now.” Huntley looked back and saw the two pursuers. He tried to spurt, but his knees seemed weak beneath him. However, he held on grimly. Down at the far end of the people who lined the road cheering rose. They could see the runners. “Come on, Merry—come on!” whispered Hodge. “You can do it yet!” Huntley reached the road. His strength seemed renewed. The cheers of his friends braced him wonderfully. It was but half a mile to the finish, and he let himself out. But he was in distress, and occasionally he lifted his clenched hands and pressed them to his breast. Bramwell continued to gain. He struck the road and came after Huntley in a manner that threatened to do the work in a hurry. Then came Frank. “Look at Merriwell!” “He’s running like a man in a hundred yards dash!” “He’s closing the gap!” “He’ll pass them both!” The strain was too much for Huntley. Within sight of the finish he began to reel. Bramwell shot past, and a wild yell went up from the Ashportites. But Merriwell was gaining, gaining, gaining! Could he pass Bramwell? He was doing his best. The tape was stretched; the judges were waiting. Bramwell heard thudding feet close behind him. Something seemed bursting in his breast. It was his heart. Let it burst! He heard a dull roar, which was the cheering of the excited throng. But he could not see. Twenty yards from the tape he went blind for the time. He kept on his feet, however. To the crowd in general it seemed that the two runners breasted the tape at the same moment. But, looking down from the observatory, Bart Hodge uttered a groan, for he saw that Bramwell reached it a second in advance. The Ashport man had won. -------------- That night, in the Ashport Opera House, before a great gathering of enthusiastic people, the trophy was presented to Bramwell by Mr. Ashley. Then Tom Bramwell spoke up and told how he came to win. He told how Merriwell had discovered the short cut through Dead Timber Jungle, and how Frank had rescued him from the trap into which he had been cast by Huntley. He also told how Merry had covered more than three-fourths of the distance with a sprained ankle, and how, at that very moment, he was in bed under the care of a doctor. Then he proposed cheers for Frank, which were given with such a will that the windows of the building rattled.