“Oh, most of ’em did,” replied the Senior.  “Of course some couldn’t stand the pace, and others wouldn’t.  But, as I say, it was stiffer in those days.  I don’t know what the world is coming to, anyhow,” and he looked as though he had on his shoulders a large share of the responsibility of regulating the universe.  “You’d better cut away, fellows,” he added, “for, though you’ve got lots of time, it’s better to loaf on the other end of the run than on this one.  Hike!”

“He doesn’t give himself any airs; does he?  Oh no!” exclaimed Bert sarcastically, as he jogged along beside his chums.

“Oh, that’s the way with all Seniors,” said Jack.

“I hope we’ll not be,” murmured Tom.

“Do you think we will?” asked George Abbot.  “I wonder what makes Seniors think they’re so high and mighty?  Do you think we’ll make this run?  Will------”

“Foolish question number six thousand four hundred and twenty-one!” interrupted Tom, with a laugh.  “Now if you’re going to start on your interrogatory stunt, Georgie my lad, you’ll make this run alone.  I’m not going to get dry in the roof of my mouth answering questions.”

“All right, I won’t ask any more,” promised the lad who was such a questioner.

“I wonder who are just 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.”