Instantly she uttered a loud shriek.

"Oh! you're all wrong!" she cried. "It isn't Boggs at all! Instead of
Number One, that is Number Seven!"

"It's Fred Fenton!" whooped the fellow with the megaphone, so that
everybody was able to hear.

"Fenton wins! Hurrah for Fred!"

Brad Morton, the track captain, caught hold of Bristles, and the two of
them danced around, hugging each other as though they had really taken
leave of their senses.

"Fenton! Oh! where is Boggs? Fenton! Riverport wins the championship!"

So the shouts were going around, and the frantic lads leaped and waltzed
about.

Meanwhile the lone runner was swiftly approaching. They could all see
now that it was Seven upon his chest, which at first had been mistaken
for the One. Fred was apparently in no great distress. He seemed able to
continue for another round, had such a thing been necessary.

Only once he turned to glance over his shoulder. This was when, arriving
close enough to the outskirts of the crowd to hear some of the loud
talk, he caught a cry that the nearest of his competitors had been
sighted. And Fred could well afford to smile when he saw that Boggs was
not in it at all, for the second runner was Number Eleven, which stood
for Gabe Larkins. He was coming furiously, and had he been better
coached at the start he might have even given the winner a run for the
goal.

The crowd thronged over the field as soon as Fred breasted the tape, and
was declared the winner of the long distance event.

And with the words of the director still fresh in their minds the
victors made sure to rally around the cheer captain, and send out a roar
again and again for the plucky fight made by Mechanicsburg and Paulding.
Such things go far toward softening the pangs of bitter defeat, and draw
late rivals closer together in the bonds of good fellowship.

But although everybody was showering Fred Fenton with praises for his
wonderful home-coming, and thanking him times over because he had made
it possible for Riverport to win the victory over both her competitors;
he counted none of these things as worth one half as much as that walk
home, after he had dressed, in the company with Flo Temple; and to see
the proud way in which she took possession of him, as though, in wearing
the little bud she had given him, he had really been running that fine
race for _her_, rather than the school to which they both belonged.

CHAPTER XXV

THE ALASKA CLAIM