“Only twice thus far. He says he can get the best out of them by working them on the track where he can watch them. He’s a good runner himself, but in going cross country he cannot watch all the men, you know.” Merriwell looked mildly surprised, opened his mouth to speak, then closed his lips and remained silent. Hodge also betrayed surprise, but maintained the silent demeanor that had made him non-conspicuous since entering the observatory. Proctor was too shrewd not to note Frank’s action. “What were you thinking of saying, Merriwell?” he asked. “Oh, not much,” answered Frank. The runners had now turned the shoulder near the clubhouse, and all leaned over the rail to watch them as they passed the long, low bathhouse, which was also the residence of the track master. After a moment, Proctor said: “I wish you would tell me what you started to say a bit ago, Merriwell.” “I don’t think I had better.” “Why not?” “It’s not the thing for me to come here and criticise the methods of your trainer.” “You may do so privately to me.” Still Frank was disinclined, seeking to divert Proctor from this inquiry by calling his attention to the fact that Bramwell had a beautiful stride and no lost motion. “If he had more range,” said Merry, “he would be the man of that lot to back.” “It’s strange Hollingsworth doesn’t think so—or, at least, hasn’t said anything about it,” said Proctor. “Perhaps Hollingsworth understands Bramwell’s disposition and doesn’t wish the fellow to get too good an opinion of himself. You know that spoils a runner occasionally.” Proctor slipped over close to Frank. The two men were now at the western side of the observatory, still watching the runners and talking in low tones. Hodge leaned on the southern rail and seemed absorbed in thought. “What were you going to say about Hollingsworth’s methods a short time ago, Merriwell?” persisted the president of the club. “It is now three days before the great match?” “Yes.” “Already contestants are coming in. If you will take the pains to look yonder and watch the woods on the side of that hill away there, using the glass, you will soon see three runners emerge and descend the hill. They are some of the men who are going to compete, and they are getting practical cross-country work.” Proctor seized the glass and leveled it as directed. After fifteen or twenty seconds, he muttered: “You’re right! There comes one of them—yes, and there is another! Now I can see all three of them. How in the world did you discover them?” “Oh, I often look around. I surveyed the country, with the aid of that glass, when we first came up here. There are two more chaps hidden in that valley yonder, while still a third, a solitary fellow, is skirting the bend of the river down yonder. It’s likely I have not seen all the men who are out getting practical cross-country work to-day, for we know that at least a dozen are stopping in Ashport.” “Well?”