CHAPTER III
THE RELAY RACE
"It wasn't much of an argument," Scout Master Hibbs confessed to hisrelay team. "I simply suggested that we have each runner pass thelittle block to the next, rather than merely touch hands. Buck Claxtonwas the only one to raise any objection. He runs the last lap."
None of the four to whom he was speaking offered any comment. It wasJump Henderson who finally spoke; poor lame, disappointed Jump.
"Probably figured that if the race was close, he could get away beforethe third runner touched him," he offered.
"Oh, you're wrong there." The speaker was Rodman Cree. "I'm sure you'rewrong. I know Buck. He isn't that sort at all. He wouldn't even thinkof taking an unfair advantage."
Bunny happened to be looking at Horace Hibbs, who, in turn, was staringfixedly at the new boy. "I suppose not," agreed the Scout Master, ina tone that was not wholly reassuring. "Anyhow, the use of the blockmakes trickery impossible; that's why it has been adopted so widely.Well, let's get over to the track."
There was something queer, Bunny felt, in the man's speech. It wasas if he suspected somebody's honesty; not Buck Claxton's, perhaps,but--well, somebody's. He couldn't quite make it out.
But once Bunny was lined up beside the cinder track back of the BlackEagles' clubhouse, he forgot everything except the race itself.Everybody was cheering and yelling advice and encouragement; horns weretooting, and somebody who had brought a bell was clanging it madly. Itwas no time for solving puzzles.
Almost before he realized it, the race began. The crowd gasped suddenlyand went absolutely still. A shot rang out; and around the queer,slanting track ran S. S., of the Scouts, and some tall, thin chap ofthe All-School team, whom Buck had been saving for just this event.Instead of the easy race S. S. had expected, Bunny could see that hewas fully extended to hold his own. Side by side the two runners raced,neither able to wrest a yard's advantage from the other. The crowdseemed to have gone mad.
"Get ready, Specs," he heard Horace Hibbs say; and good old Specs,who ran the second relay, walked, trembling with excitement, to thestarting line. Bunny puzzled gravely over his teammate's displayof emotion and could not understand it, until he recalled that histurn would come presently, and that he must take up the race whereRodman Cree dropped it. His own cheeks reddened hotly, and his fistspersisted in clenching and unclenching spasmodically as he waited andwaited.
S. S. swept around the last sharp curve, with his body leaning farinward, and held out his little crimson block of wood. Still running byhis side, the tall, thin chap thrust forward a blue one. Two clutchinghands closed upon them, and Specs and his opponent were off upon thesecond relay. The race was still nip and tuck, with no advantage toeither team.
But there was no holding Specs. He ran as if his very life dependedupon eluding the other fellow; and little by little, just an inch ortwo in each few strides, he forged into a clean lead. Rodman Cree wason the track now, waiting his turn with white, set face and wildlygroping fingers. As Specs reached him at last, now a good dozenyards ahead of the All-School fellow, Bunny sucked in his breath.Suppose--suppose something should happen; some accident, say, thatwould mull things up and worry the new boy.
But none did. As smoothly as clockwork, Specs reached forth a hand withthe crimson block, and Rodman grasped it and began to run. There hasbeen no pause, no halt, no delay whatever. And the third man of theScouts' relay was off with a commanding lead.
Bunny relaxed and began to breathe easier. By his side, some boy waspuffing mightily, like a motor with its exhaust open. Not till theother spoke, though, did Bunny recognize who it was.
"He--he can't hold his--lead," wheezed Specs mournfully. "See!What--what did I tell you? He's losing--losing ground every second."
Rodman was, too. There was no question about his determination; he wasrunning with every ounce of will and ambition. But something was wrong.
"He--he's just no good!" puffed Specs. "Can't run--or jump--orthrow--or anything. No good!"
The All-School runner was at Rodman's heels now. He swerved to theoutside and came abreast of his opponent. For a brief span, they ranside by side. Then, like an elastic band that stretches longer andlonger as the pull upon it increases, the gap widened alarmingly.
"I told you so," groaned Specs. "He's going to lose the race for us."
"It isn't lost yet," said Bunny grimly. He walked out upon the track,breathing hard and with knees wobbling treacherously. It seemedsuffocatingly hot. Already his forehead was moist with perspiration.
The seconds he waited for the runners to reach him seemed to stretchinto hours. At last, when the suspense was driving twitches throughevery muscle of his body, he heard the grateful _thud-thud_ of feetbehind him. Half turning, he held out his hand. But it was not Rodman;he realized that when he saw that the extended block was blue. BuckClaxton grabbed it, leaped forward like a race horse when the barrieris sprung, and was yards away before Bunny's bewildered brain righted.
Just as he reached a point a foot or two short of Bunny,he tripped suddenly and fell. _Page 27._]
Rodman Cree came pounding in at last. But just as he reached a pointa foot or two short of Bunny, he tripped suddenly and fell, plungingtoward his team mate from the impetus of his running. The accidentwas embarrassing, to be sure, but it could hardly have occurred at aluckier spot. Even as he sprawled helplessly toward Bunny, that runnertook a quick side-step, to prevent a violent collision, and dashedforward upon the last relay of the race.
The pursuit of Buck seemed well-nigh hopeless. But Bunny did notdespair. He fixed his eyes on the bobbing head of the boy in front ofhim, and urged himself toward it with every muscle of his lithe legsand every beat of his stout heart. On the straightaway portions of thetrack, he bent forward till it seemed he must fall; on the curves, heleaned inward till those near him among the spectators moved rapidlyaway in alarm. Always he kept his unwavering gaze upon the stubby shockof black hair that flaunted before him; and, little by little, it grewnearer and more distinct.
His wonderful burst of speed shook the crowd to a mighty roar ofapplause. He did not hear it. He did not even know they were cheeringhim. He was dumb to everything but the _thud-thud_ of Buck's foot-beatsand the beckoning thatch of his jerking head. His only thought was thedogged determination to reach and pass Buck. He must do it. He could doit. Why, the race--the whole meet--depended upon his beating Buck!
The time came when the shaggy head was before his very face. He swungto the right, ever so slightly, and parted his lips in a parched grinas he saw from the corner of his eye that it was by his side. When herisked another glance, he was in front of the bobbing head. But even ashe exulted, Buck drew upon some hidden reserve of strength and pulledup even again.
They were at the very finish now, with the tape just ahead. For onelast desperate moment, Bunny forced his legs to drive a tiny degreefaster than they had been pounding, lifted his hands high in the air,threw himself forward, and felt the flimsy woolen string hit hischest,--hit it, cling for one awful instant, and then snap.
He had won. The relay, with its eight points for the winner, was safelytucked in the Scouts' total of firsts and seconds. Race and meet weretheirs.
The cheering boys who had watched the heart-breaking finish chargedupon him. He was lifted high upon the shoulders of Roundy and Jump, nowquite unaware of their own lame and halt condition. S. S. and Specswere pounded and buffeted about. Of the four runners of the victoriousteam, only Rodman Cree was neglected.
Afterward, in the clubhouse, where the remaining six members of theScout team retreated to get away from the boisterous crowd, there wasmore jubilation. Everybody seemed to want to talk at once; that is,everybody except Rodman Cree, who sat a little back from the group andstared straight ahead, not smiling or laughing now. So great was thebabel that it took Horace Hibbs a minute or two to make himself heard,when he came in abruptly.
"There's an argument outside," he began abruptly. "A--yes, you mightcall it a protest. They claim
you fellows didn't win the race fairly."
"Who says so?" It was Spec's indignant voice. "Buck Claxton?"
Horace Hibbs' solemn face relaxed into the hint of a smile. "No, notBuck. Somebody else; somebody not on the All-School team; somebody whodoesn't matter."
"Oh!" said Rodman. It was just as if he had said, "I'm glad it wasn'tBuck."
"But what--why--What do they mean, we didn't win fairly?" stutteredSpecs.
"The claim has been made," Horace Hibbs told them, speaking veryslowly, "that your third runner did not pass the block of wood toBunny, who ran the last relay. If it was not properly passed, and Bunnyran without it, he may be disqualified."
The resultant silence was vaguely disquieting. Outside, a wonderingbreeze whipped through the oak tree at the back of the clubhouse, and adozen dried leaves pattered on the roof like raindrops.
"Well?" Horace Hibbs straightened his shoulders, as if he had adisagreeable task to perform. "Suppose we thresh out the claim. Whatare the facts, Bunny?"
But before the Scout leader could answer, Rodman Cree pushed his wayinto the little circle. "I can tell you," he said unsmilingly. "Justbefore I reached Bunny, you remember, I tripped and fell. I dropped theblock on the track instead of passing it to him."
A bomb could not have produced greater sensation. Specs uttered anexclamation of disgust. S. S., hero of the first relay, gasped audibly.Bunny nodded grudgingly. Only Horace Hibbs seemed to take it in otherthan in a spirit of disaster.
"I am glad there is no dispute about the facts in here," he said. Bunnyglanced up quickly and found the man's face beaming happily once more."Yes, I am more than glad," continued Horace Hibbs. "Because, you see,I have already taken up the matter with Buck Claxton."
"And he thinks his team won?" snapped Specs.
"No," said Rodman Cree quickly. "He doesn't, does he, Mr. Hibbs?"
Horace Hibbs fairly exuded good-nature. Something seemed to havepleased him immensely.
"No," he admitted; "Buck said--let me see if I can quote himexactly--he said, 'Shucks, no, Hibbs! We don't want to claim we weren'tlicked fair and square, when we were. We lost because Bunny Payton ranthe eye-teeth out of me on that last lap. The block doesn't count.That was why I objected to it in the first place: 'fraid somebody wouldlose it and gum up things. You go and tell your bunch of Boy Scoutsthat they beat us to-day for the first and last time--yep, beat us onthe level; but that I can get up a gang that will wipe the earth withthem at football or baseball or basketball or anything else--excepta track meet.' And so"--Horace Hibbs smiled broadly--"so you mayconsider yourselves told, and act accordingly. But I should suggestthat hereafter you and Buck work together for the good of the school,instead of against each other."
"We will," promised Bunny; and he was heartily seconded by littleechoing tags of, "Sure, we will!" and "You bet!" and "Why not?"
"Good!" exclaimed Horace Hibbs. "I don't see how any track meet couldprove a greater success." He walked to the door and turned for a finalword. "Nap, I am inclined to think Napoleon was right when he said,'There are no Alps.'"
Bunny didn't pretend to understand this queer remark. But he would havebeen a very laggard Boy Scout, indeed, if he had failed to observe onething. Although Horace Hibbs spoke to Nap, he was looking straight atRodman Cree.