Pete turned. He looked over the space he had covered. His heels had come down at least a foot beyond where he had previously landed. The look of anger on his face, as he felt of his pricked leg, turned to one of satisfaction.
"By Jove! I believe you're right," he exclaimed. "I have done better by—let's see"—and he measured it—"by fourteen inches."
"I told you so," called Dutch, still laughing. "Next time you want to jump, just let me get in the bushes behind you. It'll be good for an extra foot every time."
"Um," murmured the Grasshopper, still rubbing his leg reflectively. "It was an awful jab though, Dutch."
"What of it? Look at your distance," and once more Pete looked happy as he again measured the space he had covered.
"Poor old Grasshopper," commented Dutch as he and Tom strolled along the campus, leaving the jumper still at his practice. "Poor old Grasshopper! He'll never make the track team."
The next few days saw Tom putting in all his spare time practicing curves under the watchful eye of Mr. Lighton. The 'varsity played with the scrub and narrowly escaped a good drubbing. Langridge seemed to be asleep part of the time and issued a number of walking papers. It was after the contest, which the regulars had pulled
