Dick Randall, the Young Athlete

It was four o'clock on a bright, warm afternoon in early May. Mr. Fenton, walking briskly toward the athletic field, stopped for a moment at the entrance, to gaze at the scene b...

Two months of the fall term had come and gone; Thanksgiving Day was close at hand. Dick stood in front of his locker, dressing leisurely after his practice on the track, and cha...

On a Saturday afternoon, a fortnight after the shooting trip to the lake, Dick Randall and Jim Putnam, on their way across the yard, came face to face with Harry Allen and Ned B...

Fall term at Fenton Academy had begun. Dick Randall came slowly down the dormitory steps, then stopped and stood hesitating, as if doubtful which way to turn. Uncertainty, indee...

An air of gloom hung over the breakfast-room. Search as one might, up and down the long tables, it would have been hard to find one smiling countenance. Most of the boys were ea...

It was nearing sunset on Friday, the fourteenth of June; the Pentathlon was scheduled for ten o'clock on the following day. Dick Randall, dressed in his street clothes, but with...

The track meet was over, and Hopevale had scored three points toward the cup. Another victory, either in the ball game or the boat race, and the competition would be ended. And...

While Allen had been speaking, they had reached the entrance to the field; and as they passed the gateway in the high wooden fence they could see Ellis, on the other side of the...

Doctor Merrifield, the elderly, gray-haired principal of Hopevale, turned with a smile of satisfaction to his guest. "A record day, Mr. Graham," he said, "and a record crowd. I...

Evidently visitors in this neighborhood were something of a novelty, for there was quite a bustle of excitement as they drew up before the door. Cluff himself came hurrying from...

McDonald smiled, the smile of a man looking back over his own boyhood. "We get over a lot of things, Dick, in a lifetime," he answered, "but I know just how you feel. I guess Jo...