ng of the
Marathon would be reckoned.

Now Hugh glimpsed the quarry on one side of him. How his thoughts
flew backward to marshal the strange events so recently happening
there, in which he and some of his comrades had had the good fortune
to participate.

Just then he heard a plain groan. It gave him a little thrill,
but not because he fancied there was anything supernatural connected
with the sound. Looking in the direction from whence the groan came
he discovered a boy sitting on the ground, and rubbing his lower
extremities vigorously.

It was "Just" Smith! Evidently something not down on the programme
had happened to the boy who led the race across the quarry road.
Hugh suspected treachery immediately. He turned aside, and sprang
towards his chum.

"Hey! what ails you, 'Just' Smith?" he called out, wasting some of
his precious breath in the bargain. "This isn't the way to win
a Marathon, don't you know? What if you have barked your shin?---forget
all about it, and get moving again!"

The Smith boy looked very sad, as he shook his face dolefully.

"Huh! wish I could, Hugh," he hastened to mumble, still rubbing his
shin, and making faces as though it hurt him considerably. "I've
tried to run, but shucks; what's the use when you can hardly limp
at the best? I'm through, Hugh, sorry to say. You keep on, and
bag the prize; next to winning it myself I'd love to know you took
it away from that Whipple chap."

"But---how did the accident happen, 'Just' Smith?" continued Hugh.

"Accident nothing!" snapped the other, between his set teeth. "It
was all a set-up game to knock one of us out of the race, I tell you.
If you'd been leading at the time, why, that shower of rocks must
have met you."

"Rocks, did you say?" exclaimed Hugh, looking dark.

Just then the sound of footsteps was heard. A runner went past them
on the full tear. It was Nick Lang, and when he turned his face
toward the two on their knees the wicked look on his grinning face
told more eloquently than words how his brain had been the one to
hatch up this miserable trick whereby he hoped to gain an advantage
over one of his schoolmates who might happen to be leading him in
the race. He vanished down the road, still running strong. "Just"
Smith almost howled, he was so furious.

"That's the chap who engineered this rotten game, I tell you, Hugh!"
he snapped. "And chances are ten to one it was Leon Disney and
that Tip Slavin who thr