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, such as might be expected of a prize clown at the big Barnum and Bailey circus.

Yes, and there was Nick Lang, as big as life, running like the wind around the cinder-path and looking as though he might have a pretty fair chance to carry off some sort of prize.  Nick had for a long time been the town bully.  He was not a rich man’s son; in fact, Nick’s folks were poor, and some people even thought the big, overgrown boy should be at work helping to keep the wolf from the door, instead of still attending high school and making himself a nuisance to decent folks through his delight in practical jokes and his bullying propensities.

But even those who detested Nick Lang the most were willing to admit that he was a pretty fair athlete and could even have excelled along several lines if only he were able to control that nasty temper of his and “play fair.”