For the Honor of Randall Part 48

"Your father is looking for you, Mr. Parsons," he said.

"My--my father?" gasped Tom. "What do you mean? Is he here?"

"Yes, he just arrived. He's over talking to Dr. Churchill, and the doctor sent me to find you. Your father wants to see you."

"Wants to see me," faltered Tom. There could be but one meaning to the unexpected visit, he thought. He must leave Randall.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

TOM'S RUN

"All right, Wallops, tell him I'll be right over," said Tom. "I'll tell Kindlings where I'm going, so he won't be looking for me. But I've got plenty of time before it's my turn."

He slipped on a heavy bathrobe, for, in his abbreviated running costume, he was not exactly in shape to go to the grandstand.

"The lawsuit must have gone against dad, or else he's come to have me go back and testify," reasoned Tom. "If he's lost the case, it's good-bye to Randall for me. But if he wants me to go to court, I'm going to ask him to wait until after the run. I'm not going to desert now. The case will have to wait. But I wonder why dad came, instead of telegraphing?

It must be important. I hope nothing else can have happened."

Anxious thoughts came to Tom, as he made his way through the press of people. His mother or sister might be ill. It was an inopportune time to receive bad news--almost on the instant of entering a race that meant so much to Randall. But Tom made up his mind to do his best under any circ.u.mstances.

"What's up?" asked Frank, whom Tom pa.s.sed on his way to see his father.

"My dad's here," was the reply. "He came unexpectedly. I don't know what it means."

Frank looked grave, for he knew on how slender a thread hung Tom's chances. A moment later our hero saw his father waving his hand to him from his place beside the president of Randall. Dr. Churchill, and several members of the faculty, had come to the games, though Professor Emerson Tines refused to attend.

"Tom!" cried Mr. Parsons as he came down an aisle to meet his son. "I'm glad to see you, boy. You didn't expect to find me here; did you?"

"No, dad. Is anything--anything wrong?" Tom could hardly frame the question. But a look at his father's face told him that he need have nothing to fear--at least for the present.

"It's all right, Tom!" was the hearty answer. "I have good news for you, and I thought I'd come and tell you myself, instead of wiring. The lawsuit is ended."

"And you win?"

"I do. The other fellows simply backed down, and decided not to contest the case further. They hadn't a leg to stand on, and they knew it. I won everything, got back all my money, with interest, and----"

"Then I can stay on at Randall?" interrupted Tom, eagerly.

"You sure can. And look here, Tom. I hear your team lost the first event."

"Yes, dad. They out-threw us."

"Have you competed yet?"

"No. I'm in the mile run. It's next to the last event."

"Well, look here, Tom, my boy," and Mr. Parsons leaned forward and whispered. "If you don't win that I'll never speak to you again, and I don't think you're too big even yet, for me to take over my knee, as I did once in a while, years ago. So you want to win that race!" and he laughed and clapped his son on the back.

"Dad, I'm going to win!" was Tom's answer, given with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"This good news will give me second wind."

"I rather hoped it would," said Mr. Parsons. "That's why I came here on the first train I could get. Go on now, and--win!"

Tom nodded, and started from the grandstand, while his father again took his seat near Dr. Churchill. The throwing of the sixteen pound hammer had already started, with Exter leading off. Her entrants did well, and so did those of Boxer Hall, and then came the turn of Randall.

"Go to it, Joe! Go to it!" yelled Bean Perkins, as one of the Jersey twins stepped into the circle. "Come on now, boys, give 'em the 'hammer and tongs,' song."

It rolled out splendidly as Joe Jackson threw. Perhaps it added to his strength and skill, for certainly his heave was not beaten that day. It stands as a record yet in the Tonoka Lake League--one hundred and twenty-two feet and ten inches--but a short distance less than some of the best amateur records.

"Randall wins!" came the announcement at the close of this contest, and Kindlings remarked:

"One of the five!"

The putting of the sixteen pound shot contest was closer than either of the two previous events. It was a matter of inches to decide the winner, and there was a claim of a foul on the part of Exter against one of the Boxer Hall contestants which caused a delay.

"Say, those fellows seem to do nothing but find fault," remarked Tom to Phil.

"Yes, they're afraid they won't get all that's coming to 'em, I guess."

"They will if I have anything to say about it," commented Tom grimly.

"But maybe they won't like it."

The dispute was finally settled and the throwing went on. To Dan's chagrin, and the despair of Holly Cross, Randall lost this event by the narrow margin of one inch. It went to Exter, and there was a riot of cheers from her supporters.

But the pole vault turned the tables, and Phil hurled himself over the bar in magnificent style, clearing ten feet seven inches, and winning the contest. And, as if that was not enough, Ned Warren, another Randall lad, was but an inch below this, he too beating the best performance of either of the other three colleges.

"We win twice in this event," said Holly, who had tied the best man of Exter in the vault. "If they'd only let us count it twice we'd be all right."

"But we're coming on," declared Kindlings, and, when the hundred yard dash also went to the wearers of the maroon and yellow, Bean Perkins could not contain himself.

"Cut loose, boys! Cut loose!" he ordered, and the "Automobile chorus"

was fairly howled by the delighted cheerers.

"Three out of five events we need," remarked Holly, as he and Dan were busy figuring up the points scored. "We may get the high jump, but if we don't, and Tom and Sid make good, we'll win the champions.h.i.+p."

"I hope we win the high," said Dan. "Berry Foster is in fine trim, and I don't like cutting it so fine as to leave the last two events to clinch things. No telling what may happen to Sid or Tom, though they're both feeling fit as fiddles they say. Oh, if we can only get the high!"

"Don't want everything," suggested Holly with a laugh. "There they go for it. Come on over and watch."

Randall's lads made a gallant attempt to bring home the high jump, but it was not to be, and Boxer Hall carried off the coveted trophy, while her sons sang and cheered themselves hoa.r.s.e.

There were but two more events on the program--the mile run and the running broad jump. Randall needed both of these to win, for, should Exter annex one, and either of the other colleges the other it would mean that the champions.h.i.+p would be lost to the wearers of the maroon and yellow.

"Now Tom, it's up to you," said Dan in a low voice as the runners came out on their marks. "Are you all right--feel nervous or anything?"