CHAPTER IV.
CAPTION OF THE HOUNDS "Is that mucker going to run today ?" The questioner was Fred Ripley, and his voice was full of disgust.
He glared at Dick Prescott, who was seated unconcernedly on a stone wall, awaiting the arrival of Tom Reade and Dan Dalzell, the only other members of Dick & Co.

who were to figure in today's event.
"Is who going to run ?" asked Ben Badger.
"That little mucker, Prescott ?" insisted Fred.
"Yes," returned Badger, shortly.
"Gridley H.S.is getting worse and worse," growled Ripley.
"Athletics ought to be confined to the best sort of fellows in the school.

These little muckers, these nobodies, ought to be kept out of everything in which the real fellows take part." "Don't be a cad, Ripley," retorted Badger, half angrily.
"Oh, I'm no great stickler for caste, and that sort of thing," Fred grumbled on.

"I'm democratic enough, when it comes to that, and I associate with a good many fellows whose fathers don't stand as high in the community as mine does." "That's really kind of you," mimicked Ben Badger, with another look of disgust at the rich lawyer's son.

"Of course, you feel just as though anything that your father may have accomplished puts you in a rather more elect lot." "Of course, it does," retorted Fred, drawing himself up stiffly.
"Still, you know as well as anyone does, Badger, that I'm not stuck up just on account of family or position.