"No," Dave replied, "but, if we're out for training, it seems
to me that we had better do brisker walking than we're doing now,
even if the horse can't keep up with us."

"We're making about three miles and a half an hour," Dick responded.

"But will that be work enough to make us as hard as nails?" persisted
Darry.

"We're getting over the ground as fast as the troops of the regular
army usually travel," Prescott rejoined. "I believe our regulars
are generally regarded as rather perfect specimens in the walking
line. We might move along at a speed of six miles, and might
keep it up for an hour. Then we'd be footsore, and all in. If
the first hour didn't do it, the second hour would. But if we
plug along in this deliberate fashion, and get over fifteen, eighteen
or twenty miles a day, and keep it up, I don't believe any one
of you fellows will complain, September first, that he isn't as
hard and solid as he wants to be---even for bucking the football
lines, of other high schools."

"I know that I can be satisfied with this gait," murmured Reade.

"If Darry wants to move faster," suggested Hazelton, "why not
tell him where to wait for us, and let him gallop ahead?"

"I'll stay with the rest of you," Darry retorted. "All I want
to make sure of is that we're going to get the most out of our
training work this summer."