After the great throng could be quieted down, the heavy voice of the gentleman who had agreed to serve as the head of the arrangements committee started to address the thousands gathered in that field devoted to boys’ sports. As briefly as possible he explained what clean athletic games would do for the maintenance of health in the bodies of those engaging in them up to a reasonable limit; and also what grand times the three schools had had in the past. He congratulated the people of the towns lying along the Harrapin that there had been so little unpleasant friction in the past; and expressed the hope that the present meeting of their representative young athletes would further cement the bonds of good fellowship among the boys of Columbia, Clifford and Bellport. After the hearty cheers had subsided he started again to tell of the various contests that had been arranged, as well as to mention a list of prizes donated by the leading merchants of the three places, and which would be awarded to the winners in the numerous events. Then the first contest was called, and immediately everybody in that great throng became intensely interested. It was a fifty-yard dash; and there were just nine contestants; since the limit had been placed at three for each school. In this tournament it had been wisely decided to let each contest stand on its own merits. There were just seventeen events, and as each would count just one point, the school winning a plurality of these prizes would be adjudged the grand champion for the season in track and field athletics. In this way even the absurd sack race would count just as much as the ten-mile run. But what was fair for one was fair for all, and there was no grumbling because of these arrangements. As their event was scheduled to come off at the very last of the meet, Frank and Larry could take things easy, while waiting for the time to arrive when the long-distance race would be called. “Have you noticed that quite a lot of our dark-faced friends of the gypsy camp are present?” Lanky asked his chum, as they stood waiting for the crack of the pistol which would send the sprinters on their furious rush over the short distance that had been marked out for them. “Yes, and I saw a couple talking with a farmer,” replied Frank, laughing. “Guess they’ve got a dicker on with him, from the way they acted. Say, they’ll be glad they took your advice, and held over here. Perhaps they’ll do the biggest day’s business ever. Look at that Clifford football snapback, will you? They say he’s winged lightning on the short dash; and I want to see if it’s so.” “Well, the referee is gettin’ ready to send the bunch off, so keep your good eye peeled on him then; because if he can go that fast, we might lose sight of him altogether. Wow! they’re off, Frank! That was a great start, I tell you!” CHAPTER XX CLIFFORD’S NEW HOPE Almost before some of the crowd knew it had begun, the fifty-yard dash was over. Coddling had won!