Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home, And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam; He hit the trail---- Away sped the shot, and fell with a thud fully thirty feet distant. Pete grunted. Billy’s face lighted. Pete wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of one big hand and strolled after the shot. When he turned back he saw the trainer. He looked somewhat abashed and showed a disposition to drop the weight where he stood. But he thought better of it. “Taking a little exercise,” he explained, carelessly. Billy nodded. “Good idea,” he said. “Don’t throw it, but push it right away from you as though you were punching some one. You get it too high.” “Oh, I was just fooling with it,” said Pete. “I know; but you try it, and don’t let it go so high.” The first attempt was a dismal failure, the shot scarcely covering twenty feet. Billy’s presence embarrassed the performer. “Try it again,” said Billy. Pete hesitated. Then, “All right,” he said, cheerfully. This time he did better than ever, and Billy paced off the distance. “About thirty-two feet,” he announced. “That’ll do for to-day.” “Huh?” said Pete. “That’s enough for this time. You don’t want to lame your muscles, if you haven’t done it already.” “Oh, my muscles will stand it,” answered Pete. “Do ’em good to get lame, I guess.” But Billy shook his head. “No, that won’t do. You leave off now and report to me to-morrow at four-thirty.” “What for?” asked Pete, in surprise. “For practise. We’ll try you in the meet next Friday.” “No, I guess not,” said Pete, shaking his head. “If you had a roping contest I might try my hand, but these athletic stunts have me beat.” “Never mind about that,” answered the trainer, “you do as I say. We need you, and we’re going to have you. Four-thirty, remember; and you’d better get some togs.” He nodded and walked away. Pete, staring after him, expressed his surprise by a long whistle. CHAPTER XX TRACK AND FIELD The class games were notable that spring merely because they brought into sudden prominence a new and promising candidate in the shot-putting event, one Peter Burley, ’07, of Blackwater, Colo. To be sure, Pete didn’t break any records, nor did he come out first, but he contributed one point to the scant sum of the freshman class total by taking third place with a put of thirty-nine feet, four and one-half inches. Pete’s appearance in athletic circles was a surprise to the college at large, and those who remembered his prowess at football and took his size and apparent strength into consideration jumped to the conclusion that here was a “dark horse” that was going to carry everything before him and break the college record into minute particles. Personally, Pete viewed his participation as a good joke, but he wasn’t quite certain whom the joke was on.