ahead of us?" asked Bert, as he stopped a second
to tie a loose shoe lace.

"Let's ask," suggested Tom.

He halted and hurled back this question at the checking Senior, who sat
near the door of the gymnasium.

"Who's ahead of us, Rockford?"

"Let's see," and the checker consulted his slips. "Oh, Sam Heller and
Nick Johnson," he answered. "They've got four minutes start of you."

"All right; thanks!" shouted Tom, as he again took up his stride.

"Say, let's pass 'em," suggested Jack. "I'd rather be ahead of 'em,
than behind, anyhow."

"All right," assented Tom. "Shall we pass 'em now, or later?"

"Oh, wait a bit," said Bert. "Let's get our second wind, first."

This suited the others, and they jogged along at an easy pace. The day
was pleasant, not too warm, and there was a refreshing breeze when one
got on the hilltops. The run was through a rolling country, and the
roads were in good condition.

"Say, this is fun!" exclaimed Bert, when they had covered the first
half mile. "I like it better than I thought I would."

"Wait a bit," advised Jack. "It hasn't half started yet. When you've
done about ten miles the next five will seem twice as long."

On they swung, down a slope that made for easy going. When they topped
the next rise Jack uttered an exclamation:

"There are a couple of lads just ahead of us," he said, pointing down
in a small valley into which the runners must now descend.

"And if they aren't Sam Heller and his crony I'm a goat!" said Tom.
"That's Sam's run, all right."

"So it is," agreed Bert. "Shall we make a sprint and pass 'em?"

"Oh, there's time enough yet," said George. "Don't let's rush things."

They accepted this easy way out of it, and, as a matter of fact, none
of them cared very much about passing Sam and Nick. They jogged down
the slope, to strike a level stretch, and, by this time, Sam and his
companion were out of sight beyond a turn in the road.

"There's Aldenhurst!" exclaimed Tom at length, as they came in view of
a small but pretty village.

"And if there isn't a soda water stand in it I'm going to make a
complaint to the police!" gasped Bert. "I'm as dry as a fish."

"Don't fill up on trash," advised Tom. "The rules said that was bad to
do;" for a few simple directions as to the best way of making the run
had been circulated by Coach Jackson.

"Well, I'm going to swab out with seltzer, anyhow," declared Jack,
"rules or no rules."

"Oh, I gues