this way," he was informed by the willing and talkative
Semi-Colon, "the committee has laid out registering stations at certain
places along the course, where every runner has to sign his name in his
own fist, also the exact time of his arrival; then he is at liberty to
shoot off again as he pleases. One of these is just below where the
cutoff begins, and another at the toll-gate on the home road."

"Oh! I begin to grasp what you mean now," the stranger in Riverport
remarked, as he nodded his head. "All this is done so that there shall
not be the slightest taint of unfairness or cheating about the race?"

"You better believe there won't be, sir!" declared Cornelius Shays.
"Nobody will ever be able to say Riverport won on a foul, or by taking
any unfair advantage of her rivals. It's going to be a clean game and a
great victory!"

"When they line up, please tell me the numbers of your friends, and also
those from the other schools. I happen to have a pair of field-glasses
with me, and when the first runner comes in sight away up the road
yonder, I may be able to return your kindness by telling you positively
what his number is before you could distinguish it with the naked eye."

"There they are lining up now, Semi!" exclaimed Cissie, eagerly, and as
Sid Wells was a very particular friend of hers, it can be set down as
certain that her eyes picked him out of the eleven just as quickly as his
sister Mame could have done.

Accordingly, as the line swayed there, with the contestants listening to
the last plain instructions from the master of ceremonies, warning them
of what penalties would be sure to follow any fouling in the race,
Semi-Colon told the stranger in Riverport just which number represented
each entry.

"The first four numbers belong to Mechanicsburg, you see, Ackers leading
as One, Dolan Two, Waterman Three, and Wagner Four. Then come our
fellows, with Sid Wells Five, Fred Fenton Six, Colon Seven, and Bristles
Carpenter Eight. Number Nine is Collins of Paulding, with Everett Ten,
and Badger Eleven. There is no Twelve, you see, sir, because Ogden is
knocked out."

"Hold up now, Semi-Colon, they're going to make the start, and we don't
want to keep hearing you talking forever," a boy in the second row behind
called out; at which the shortened edition of the Colon family cast an
aggrieved glance back that way, but nevertheless held his tongue.

"Now, watch, he's going to fire the pistol!" gasped Ci