Meanwhile, at another training table farther around the bend of Elm Street, Hal was one of the stars of the freshman nine. Of the quartet, Tommy only was not head over ears in athletics, but the fact didn’t trouble him a scrap. He had all he could do--and a trifle more--and was laboring, besides, under the harmless delusion that the college’s success on diamond, track, and river depended largely upon his supervision and advice. Whenever he had time, which wasn’t very often, he delighted to stand beside the lime-marked ring and offer gems of instruction in the art of putting the shot to Pete. And Pete, who was miserable without companionship, stood it smilingly for the sake of Tommy’s presence. In the evenings Tommy frequently found a moment or two in which to look up Allan or Hal and give them the benefit of his advice regarding playing second base or running the two miles. But those young gentlemen exhibited a strange and lamentable impatience, and Tommy quite often left their presence under compulsion or just ahead of a flying boot. Meanwhile the spring vacation came and went. Of the quartet, Hal and Tommy went home, and Allan and Pete stayed at college, Allan from motives of economy and Pete because nothing better offered. After recess baseball held the boards and the varsity team was half-way through its schedule by the first week in May, and had but two defeats behind it. On the track the candidates were put through their paces six days a week. Erskine was almost sure of victories in the sprints, equally certain of defeats in the middle distances, expected to win the mile, was in grave doubt as to the two miles, and hoped to share the hurdles with her opponent. In the field events, the high jump alone was certain to yield a first to the Purple. The pole vault, broad jump, and both weight events were of doubtful outcome. As Tommy figured it out in the columns of “his” paper about this time, Erskine had a chance of winning by seven points. But as second and third places were almost impossible to apportion with any accuracy, this forecast was not of much value. The dual games with Robinson came on May 28th. A fortnight before that Allan’s work was stretched over six days, as follows: Monday, a two-mile run at an easy pace. Tuesday, a fast mile, followed by an easy three-quarters. Wednesday, a hard, fast mile. Thursday, two miles and a half in easy time. Friday, a mile and a half at medium speed. Saturday, a time trial over the two miles. This was hard work and lots of it, but Allan’s physical condition could scarcely have been bettered, and never, from the beginning of outdoor practise until the big event was over with, did he go “fine” for a moment. Twelve days before the meet Allan had his last trial, and when, still running strongly, he crossed the finish line, Billy’s watch clicked at 9:53⅝. Billy smiled cheerfully enough, but down in his heart he was disappointed. He had expected better things. CHAPTER XXI