There were a few little lively brushes in the start, before the runners settled down to real business.  Some were immediately left behind, but this fact seemed to give them little concern, for they kept jogging away as though quite happy.

Doubtless, a number had entered with no idea of covering more than a few miles of the long course.  They just enjoyed the excitement, and the honor of being able to say they had once run in a fifteen-mile schoolboy Marathon race.

After a bit these novices would drop out, perhaps even hasten back with various clever excuses for giving up; and having gained the cheers of their particular coterie of friends they could don a few more clothes to keep off the chill, and settle back to watch the rest of the entertainment.  Their opinion would naturally be much sought after, as to the chances of this or that genuine contestant; which was one of the things they desired.

As it takes considerable time for even fleet-footed runners to go over a fifteen-mile course, the sensible committee, who knew just about how long the crowd would have to wait, had provided plenty of amusement meanwhile.

Interspersed with a number of minor events, such as further sprinting matches for younger entries, and some more pole vaulting, as well as Indian club exhibitions of skill, would come the humorous features of the meet.

These are always popular with the country people; indeed, nearly everybody seems to welcome them as a diversion calculated to raise hearty laughter.

There was also keen competition even in the potato race; and the crowd yelled itself hoarse to see the antics of those who met with all manner of mishaps when engaged in the hurdle, and the obstacle affairs.

The boys who had engaged to try for these prizes seemed to “get their dander up,” as some fellow expressed it, and the way they struggled and vied with one another was “equal to a circus with a brass band.”

Although mention may not have been made of the fact up to now, the Scranton band was giving of its very best from time to time, and the air throbbed with martial music suitable to a country just then at war with a foreign nation.  It was a fair sort of band in the bargain, and well worth listening to; so that the music really added greatly to the enjoyment of the occasion.

When the three-legged race was pulled off the spectators howled their sympathy with this or that pair of contestants as they hopped along, now rolling on the ground while bound together, and, at times, even trying to creep in desperation, when it seemed as though a difference of opinions in the two minds trying to control what was just the same as one pair of legs, caused confusion, and a lack of progression.

Later on came the climbing of the greased pole.  This is always comical enough, and aroused much enthusiasm.  Nobody seems to be a favorite, and each successful attempt to mount is greeted with shrieks of laughter.  So long as a valiant fellow is seen to be steadily making his way upwards, inch by inch, he may be applauded; but let him display the slightest hint of having “shot his bolt,” and begin to slip back again, howls of derision will greet his ears, so that in confusion he finally gives it up, and retires in haste.