come near him. But that big chap of theirs will

get second, I guess. Fudge Shaw is right after him, though. There's Springdale's last try."

Perry, standing on tip-toe, saw the hammer go flying off, but couldn't see where it landed.

"The worst he's done yet," exclaimed Lanny. "By Jove, I wonder——"

There was a sudden stir of excitement about them. "If Shaw can better his last throw," a voice nearby said, "we may have a chance yet. But he's got to beat a hundred and twenty-four and something!"

"Is Fudge still in it?" asked Perry wonderingly. Lanny nodded.

"Yes, he's been doing well, too. So far he's only six feet behind the Springdale chap, I understand. I only got here about five minutes ago. There's Guy Felker over there with the pennant the girls gave him."

"Oh, did he win it? I'm glad of that. How many points did he make, Lanny?"

"Ten; first in the high-jump and pole-vault. Here goes Harry again."

Partridge walked into the circle, dragging his hammer, and the measurer, far out across the field, scuttled for safety, the yellow tape fluttering behind him. The crowd laughed and then grew