out exactly, and knew what he could do. He
was not alarmed because several of the visiting runners led the way,
and even "Just" Smith had quite a little lead over him.

Pegging along, Hugh covered mile after mile with a steadiness that he
had reduced to machine-like motion. He had timed himself, and the
whole course was mentally charted for his guidance. If he reached
the cut-off road at a certain time he would know things were moving
just as swiftly as necessary. Those boys who strained themselves in
that first seven miles would be apt to rue their rashness when they
began to feel their legs quiver with weakness under them, and still
miles remained to be covered ere the goal came in sight. And,
besides, they were sure to be in no condition for a hot final sprint,
in case of keen competition.

So Hugh, having registered as required at two booths on the way, and
thus learned the order in which the trio ahead of him seemed to be
running, finally arrived at the sunken quarry road. He recognized
the landmarks before he reached the spot; and losing not a second of
time darted among the trees.

"Just" Smith was still leading him, for here and there he could
distinguish the other's footprints, where the ground chanced to be a
little moist. Hugh also had reason to believe that Nick Lang was
coming strong not a great distance behind him. He wondered whether
Nick meant to take advantage of the old quarry road as well as he and
"Just" Smith, and Horatio in the bargain. For that matter Hugh did
not care an iota; if Nick considered it would be to his advantage he
was at liberty to benefit by this scheme of Hugh's. It was all for
the glory of Scranton High; and far better that Nick won the prize,
than that it should be taken by an Allandale, or a Belleville
contestant--that is, if he won it honestly.

Apparently, on the face of the returns, when half of the fifteen-mile
course had been run, the victory was likely to be carried off by
Whipple, the fleet-winged Allandale chap who had played right field
during the baseball matches; "Just" Smith; himself; or possibly Nick
Lang. There was always a dim and remote possibility, however, of a
dark horse forging to the front on the home stretch. This might be
Horatio Juggins, or McKee, or perhaps that Belleville runner, Conway,
who had looked so confident when Hugh surveyed the line of eager
faces at the start.

Hugh remembered every foot of the way along that quarry road. H