It was an afternoon on the following week, after school hours, and
the athletic field bordering the outskirts of the town of Scranton
afforded a pretty lively spectacle. Indeed, it could be readily seen
that the approaching tournament had taken a great hold upon the young
people of the town.

Scores of boys were busily engaged in various exercises, under the
watchful eye of Mr. Leonard, the assistant principal under Dr.
Carmack. This determined-looking young fellow was a college
graduate, and had taken considerable interest in all manner of
athletics; indeed, it was well known that he had played on one or
more of the college teams during his course, and won quite an
enviable reputation for good work, though hardly reckoned a brilliant
star.

Many who did not expect to participate in any of the numerous events
had gathered to watch what was going on; and, besides, there were
clusters of pretty high-school girls on the side lines, chattering
like magpies, and venting their opinions regarding the chances
certain favorites among their boy friends appeared to have in the way
of winning a prize.

Scores were busily engaged in running around the cinder-path, taking
the high jump, trying the hurdles, so as to perfect themselves
against the coming Saturday when the wonderful event was to come off;
sprinting for the short races of fifty, or a hundred yards; throwing
the discus or the hammer, and numerous other lively doings.

Among these participants there were a number whom the reader of
previous volumes in this series will readily recognize, and possibly
gladly meet again. There was Alan Tyree, for instance, whose
masterly pitching had done so much to land the pennant of the Three
Town High School League that season for Scranton; Owen Dugdale, the
efficient shortstop of the local nine; "Just" Smith, whose real name
it happened was Justin, but who seldom heard it outside of school and
home. He was a fleet runner, and had ably filled the position of
left fielder when Scranton carried the school colors to victory over
Allandale in that last heart-breaking game. Besides these, Joe
Danvers was on deck, doing all sorts of wonderful stunts at throwing
the hammer and taking the long jump, for Joe delighted in a variety
of specialties and did not confine himself to any one particular
thing; also might be seen one Claude Hastings, a chap who was a
regular monkey in his way, and who always kept the crowd laughing by
his antics,