"They run a book and periodical shop, if that is what you mean,"
rejoined Ben, disgustedly, as he looked the young snob over for
the third time. "Some mighty big people have done that in times
past. As to position, Prescott's father isn't a rich man, nor
a very successful one, but I wish I could look forward, some day,
to being half as well educated as Dick's father is."

"A dreamer, a fool, a man who couldn't and didn't succeed," sneered
Fred. "And his son will be a bigger mistake in life. I don't
have anything to do with that kind of people and their friends."

"I'll wish you good-day, then," broke in Badger, crisply, and
moved away. "I want to be reckoned as one of Dick Prescott's
friends. He's one of the most promising young fellows in Gridley
H.S."

Ripley let loose an astounded gasp. He stood still where Badger
had left him, boiling over with rage. Had Ripley been wise, he
would have chosen another time for anger. Any trainer or physician
could have told this young snob that just before going off on
a long race is the worst possible time for letting anger get the
best of one. Anger excites the action of the heart to a degree
that makes subsequent running performance a thing of difficulty.

Gridley H.S. was out for the October paper chase. This was an
annual event, in which the sophomores, or third classmen, acted
as the hares, while the freshmen played the part of the hounds.
The course was six miles across country. Three courses, of equal
length, were laid down, each with a different terminal. It was
known, in advance, only to the hares, which course would be run