Part 23 (1/2)
”Somebody please give me the official list of entries; I'm not sure I have it right,” and as Cissie Anderson said this she looked around her at the clump of enthusiastic school friends, both boys and girls, surrounding her seat in the grandstand.
There were Flo Temple, Mame Wells, and several other girls, as well as Semi-Colon, Cornelius Shays and a few other fellows who believed in being comfortable during the long wait, while the contestants were absent.
”That's me, Cissie,” Semi-Colon spoke up, flouris.h.i.+ng a paper proudly.
”I've just come from the blackboard where they've posted the names of the entries. You know each school was to be limited to four contestants?”
”Yes, but please give me the list,” said Cissie, impatiently. ”They're beginning to gather around the starting line, and I want to be sure I've got everything correct. Just think how small I'd feel if I cheered the wrong one.”
”You can cheer everybody,” Flo told her, ”until the time comes to welcome the first runner, and then Riverport hopes to do herself proud.”
”Mechanicsburg has four entries,” Semi-Colon announced, purposely raising his rather puny voice so that every one within a radius of twenty feet might profit by his knowledge, ”and they are Dolan, Wagner, Waterman, and Ackers. The last named is called the Mechanicsburg Wonder, and they all say he's going to win this Marathon in a walk.”
At that there were scornful exclamations from the faithful Riverport rooters.
”We've seen Ackers run plenty and good, when he played left tackle on their football eleven!” announced one boy, jeeringly.
”And if I remember rightly he didn't run fast enough to make many touchdowns, eh, fellows?” exclaimed another Riverport student.
”You wait and see, that's all!” they were told by an indignant girl nearby, who undoubtedly had her home in the up-river town.
”Yeth,” added her companion, a boy who lisped terribly, but was not prevented by this affliction from speaking his mind in behalf of his native town, ”they thay thosth that laugh lasth laugh loudetht. Justh wait, and thee which thide of your mouth you laugh from, fellowth.”
”Well, I've got Mechanicsburg down all pat, Semi-Colon,” observed Cissie, who had smiled sweetly while this side talk was going on, ”and now how about Paulding?”
”Only three entries there,” the answer came, ”because Ogden was hurt on a practice run yesterday afternoon, and it was too late to grind a subst.i.tute into decent condition.”
”Then they are Collins, Everett and Badger; is that right?” asked Cissie, as she poised her lead pencil over her little pad.
”Correct,” Semi-Colon announced. ”You all know who Riverport's boys are going to be, but all the same I'll just mention them. Their names seem to roll off my tongue as easy as anything---Sid Wells, Colon, Bristles Carpenter, and last hut far from least, our splendid all-around athlete, Fred Fenton.”
There was a generous clapping of hands around that section of the grandstand; although the pair from Mechanicsburg looked scornful, and shrugged their shoulders in truly loyal style, for they were faithful rooters for their home town.
”There is no such thing as a handicap in this race, I understand?”
remarked a gentleman who apparently was a stranger in the vicinity, for no one seemed to know him.
”Oh, no sir, such a thing isn't ever considered in a Marathon race,”
Semi-Colon immediately told him. ”Every tub has to rest on its own bottom, and the fellow who can stand the gruelling run best is going to come in ahead of the string.”
”There are eleven entries, I believe you said?” continued the gentleman, who was evidently looking for general information, not being much of a sporting patron, ”and if they all start out in a bunch, I should think there might be some little confusion.”
”Not at all, sir,” the boy a.s.sured him. ”Each runner has a big number fastened to his breast and back, so that he can be known at a distance.
In that way the judges can see any trickery that may be attempted. And besides, although they may start off in a clump, before three miles have been run the chances are they'll be strung all along the road, and with numerous little hot sprints to get the lead.”
”And while waiting for them to come in sight, what is going to happen here?” continued the gentleman, waving his hand toward the open s.p.a.ce before the grandstand where preparations had evidently been made for other entertainments.
”Oh! amuse the crowd, and keep them from getting too anxious,” Semi-Colon told him, readily enough, for his greatest delight was to spread information. ”The committee on sports has arranged several comical entertainments. There's going to be several sack races to begin with; climbing the greased pole for another thing; catching a greased pig for another; and a three-foot race to wind up with.”