should have been encouraged. Unfortunately, though, a good half of the aspirants were youngsters whose chances of making good were decidedly slim, and "Skeet" and Guy Felker both realized that if, after the final weeding out, they had twenty-five fellows to build the team with they might consider themselves extremely fortunate.
At least half of the candidates who reported this afternoon were in street togs. Those who were not were taken by Guy for a slow run out into the country and the others were dismissed with instructions to report to-morrow dressed for work. Of the former were Fudge and Perry, and it was their fortune to amble over the better part of two miles at the tail-end of a strung-out procession of runners. Perry was in the rear because Fudge was. Fudge was there because running was not a strong point with him. If it hadn't been for the occasional rests allowed by the captain, Fudge would have dropped out, discouraged and winded, long before they got back to the field. As it was, however, he managed to remain within sight of the leaders. Once when, having trotted up a hill, he subsided on a convenient ledge to regain his breath, he voiced a protest.
"Gee," panted Fudge, "I don't see any good in
running all over the landscape like this when you're
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