CHAPTER XIX.
JUMPING.
There was a determined look on Paul's face, as he walked to one end of the long strip of turf that ran down one side of the gymnasium.
"He is built for jumping," said one of the spectators.

"There is a fine pair of legs, if I ever saw a fine pair." "That's right," agreed another; "and he is full of snap and ginger.

He will give Merriwell a hard go." "But Merriwell is no slow coach at anything," broke in a third.

"I never saw a fellow who seemed able to make such a record at all sorts of sports.

Who would have thought that he could face Bascomb?
Look! Rains is going to start! See him crouch for the run! He is like a young panther! Now he's off!" Down the line of turf darted Paul, reached the white line, rose gracefully into the air with a pretty spring, and sailed forward in a handsome jump that brought a round of applause from the spectators.
The measurers immediately ran the tape.
"Seventeen feet and four inches," was the announcement.
A shade of disappointment came to the faces of the spectators, for that was far below the Fardale record.
Rains, however, winked quietly to Bascomb, as if to say that the first jump was a teaser, just to see what Merriwell would do.
Frank now took his position, ran swiftly and lightly down the turf, and made the jump.