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diff --git a/39668-h/39668-h.htm b/39668-h/39668-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bec8640 --- /dev/null +++ b/39668-h/39668-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6200 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + At Start And Finish, by William Lindsey. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of At Start and Finish, by William Lindsey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: At Start and Finish + +Author: William Lindsey + +Release Date: May 11, 2012 [EBook #39668] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT START AND FINISH *** + + + + +Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h1>AT START AND FINISH</h1> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</h2> + +<h3>APPLES OF ISTAKHAR</h3> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2><a name="AT" id="AT">AT</a></h2> + +<h2>START AND FINISH</h2> + +<h3>William Lindsey</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 144px;"> +<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" width="144" height="200" alt="" /> +</div> + +<h4>Boston</h4> + +<h4>Small, Maynard & Company</h4> + +<h4>1899</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1896,</i> by</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copeland and Day</span></p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1899,</i> by</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Small, Maynard & Company</span></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h4>TO THE</h4> + +<h4>ATHLETIC TEAMS OF OLD ENGLAND</h4> + +<h4>AND NEW ENGLAND, OXFORD, CAMBRIDGE,</h4> + +<h4>HARVARD, AND YALE, WHO</h4> + +<h4>MET IN LONDON JULY 22, 1899, GOOD</h4> + +<h4>WINNERS AND PLUCKY LOSERS,</h4> + +<h4>I DEDICATE THIS BOOK</h4> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>NOTE.</h2> + +<p>In the present volume I have drawn freely on my previous collection (now +out of print), "Cinder-path Tales," omitting some material, but adding +much more that is new.</p> + +<p>I have also added headpieces, in which my suggestions have been very +cleverly carried out by the artist, W. B. Gilbert.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">W. L.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#OLD_ENGLAND_AND_NEW_ENGLAND">OLD ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#MY_FIRST_FOR_MONEY">MY FIRST, FOR MONEY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_HOLLOW_HAMMER">THE HOLLOW HAMMER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#HIS_NAME_IS_MUD">HIS NAME IS MUD</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#HOW_KITTY_QUEERED_THE_MILE">HOW KITTY QUEERED THE "MILE"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ATHERTONS_LAST_HALF">ATHERTON'S LAST "HALF"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_HEAVY_BRIGADE">THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#A_VIRGINIA_JUMPER">A VIRGINIA JUMPER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#AND_EVERY_ONE_A_WINNER">AND EVERY ONE A WINNER</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="OLD_ENGLAND_AND_NEW_ENGLAND" id="OLD_ENGLAND_AND_NEW_ENGLAND"></a> +<img src="images/ill_002.jpg" width="600" height="190" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>It is something of an experience for an Englishman, after thirty years' +absence, to stand on the steps of "Morley's" and face the sunlight of +Trafalgar Square. He may not own a foot of English soil, he may have no +friend left to meet him, he may even have become a citizen of the Great +Republic, but he cannot look at the tall shaft on which the "little +sailor" stands without a breath of pride, a mist in his eye, and a lump +in his throat.</p> + +<p>It was early afternoon of a warm July day. There was barely enough wind +to blow the spray of the fountains, and the water itself rose straight +in the soft air. I stood contentedly watching the endless procession of +busses, hansoms, and four-wheelers, with the occasional coster's cart, +and asked for nothing more. Long-eared "Neddy" dragging "Arry," +"Arriet," and a load of gooseberries was a combination on which my eye +rested with peculiar fascination. No amateur "whip" in a red coat on a +bottle-green coach could handle the "ribbons" over four<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> "choice uns" +with a finer air than "Arry" as he swung through the line and came +clicking up the street. I would rather see him pass than the Lord Mayor +in his chariot. I must have stood on the top step of "Morley's" for a +good half-hour, not caring even to smoke, so sweet was the smell of a +London street to me.</p> + +<p>I was thinking, as a man must at such a time, of old days and old +friends,—not dismally, but with a certain sense of loss,—when a tall +gentleman came slowly up the steps and stopped immediately in front of +me. I moved aside, although there was plenty of room for him to pass; +but still he looked at me gravely, and at last held out a big brown hand +and said, as if we had parted only yesterday, "Well, Walter, old man, +how are you?" I was a bit in doubt at first. He was so tall that his +eyes were nearly on a level with my own, his figure erect and soldierly, +his face bronzed as if from long exposure to a tropic sun. Only when he +smiled did I know him, and then we gripped hands hard, our fingers +clinging until we saw we were attracting the notice of those around us. +Then our hands unclasped, and feeling a bit foolish over our emotion, we +sat down together.</p> + +<p>At first we talked of commonplaces, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> all the time I was thinking +of an evening more than thirty years ago when we stood together on the +river path, under the shadows of old Oxford towers, and said, +"Good-bye." He then offered to stand by me when the friendship would +have cost him something, and I declined the sacrifice. Would it have +been better? Who can tell?</p> + +<p>Our first thoughts were a bit serious, perhaps, but our second became +decidedly cheerful at meeting again after so long a time. I learned that +he was "Colonel" Patterson, having gained his regiment a good ten years +ago; that he had spent nearly all his time in India; that he had been +invalided home; that he was, like myself, unmarried, and that he found +himself rather "out of it" after all these years away from the "old +country."</p> + +<p>I told how I had gone to America, where, finding all other talents +unmarketable, I had become first a professional runner, and later a +college trainer. To this occupation, in which I had been something of a +success, I had given many years until a small invention had made me +independent, and a man of leisure in a modest way. I saw he was a bit +disappointed when I told him I had been forced to "turn pro." in order +to obtain my bread and butter. I knew exactly how he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> felt, and well did +I remember my sorrow when I dropped the "Mr." from my name. It is not a +particularly high-sounding title, but to appreciate it at its true value +a man need only to lose it and become plain "Smith," "Jones," or +"Robinson." That nothing could raise the "pale spectre of the salt" +between Frank Patterson and myself, not even going outside the pale of +the "gentleman amateur," I was very certain.</p> + +<p>But when I told him a little later that I had become a full-fledged +citizen of the United States, he could not conceal his surprise, +although he said but little at first.</p> + +<p>We talked of other things for a while, and then my friend came back to +what I knew he had been thinking about all the time, and he asked me +bluntly how it was I had come to give up the nation of my birth.</p> + +<p>"It seemed only fair," I answered, "that I should become a citizen of +the country in which I obtained my living, whose laws protected me, in +which most of my friends were resident, and where I expected sometime to +be buried."</p> + +<p>At this the Colonel was silent for a little while, and then he remarked +rather doubtfully: "I cannot make up my mind just what the Americans are +like. Are they what Kipling declared them in the 'Pioneer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> Mail' some +ten years ago, when he cursed them root and branch, or what the same man +said of them a few years later, when he affirmed just as strongly, 'I +love them' and 'They'll be the biggest, finest, and best people on the +surface of the globe'? Such contradictory statements are confusing to a +plain soldier with nothing more than the average amount of intelligence. +What is the use, too, of calling them Anglo-Saxon? They are, in fact, a +mixture of Celt, Teuton, Gaul, Slav, with a modicum of Saxon blood, and +I know not what else."</p> + +<p>I could not help smiling a little at the Colonel's earnestness. I tried +to tell him that the American was essentially Anglo-Saxon in spite of +all the mixture; that his traditions, aims, and sentiments were very +much like his own; that he had the same language, law, and literature; +that the boys read "Tom Brown at Rugby," and the old men Shakespeare, +Browning, and Kipling. I told him that the boys played English games +with but slight changes, and that they boxed like English boys, and +their fathers fought like English men.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Colonel, at last interrupting my flow of eloquence, "I +heard the statement made at the Army and Navy Club only last night, that +the American soldier was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> close to our 'Tommy,' and that the Yankee +sailor was second to none. Yet all the time I cannot adjust myself to +the fact that he is 'one of us.' Perhaps if I saw some typical Americans +I should be a little less at sea."</p> + +<p>"Well," I answered, "if that is what you want, I can give you plenty of +opportunity. This afternoon occur the athletic games between Oxford and +Cambridge on the one hand, and Harvard and Yale on the other. I am going +with a party of Americans; we have seats in the American section, and I +have a spare ticket which you can use as well as not. You can study the +'genus Americana' at your leisure, and see some mighty good sport +meanwhile."</p> + +<p>"That would suit my book exactly," declared the Colonel; and he had +scarcely spoken before I saw Tom Furness standing in the entrance of the +hotel evidently looking for me. He was clad, despite the heat, in a long +Prince Albert coat which fitted him like a glove, and wore a tall silk +hat as well. He saw me almost immediately, and a moment later was +shaking hands with the Colonel. The latter was dressed in a +loose-fitting suit of gray flannel and sported a very American-looking +straw hat, so that Tom really appeared the more English of the two.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Which was the finer specimen of a man it would be hard to say, and one +might not match them in a day's journey. They were almost exactly of a +height, the Colonel not more erect than Tom, and not quite as broad of +chest. The latter certainly had not the Colonel's clean-cut face, but +there was something about his rather irregular features that would +attract attention anywhere. I was pleased to see, too, that he gave to +the Colonel a touch of the deference due his age and rank, which I admit +some of Tom's countrymen might have forgotten.</p> + +<p>Furness was very cordial, too. "We are in great luck," he declared, "to +have the Colonel with us, for a little later we should have been gone. +It is about time to start now, after, of course, a little something to +fortify us against the drive." So he took us into the smoking-room, +where he introduced the Colonel to Harry Gardiner and Jim Harding. He +also made him acquainted with a Manhattan cocktail, which the Colonel +imbibed with some hesitation, but found very decidedly to his liking. +Tom explained that he had taught them how to make it himself that very +morning, and that it could not be bettered in all London.</p> + +<p>Furness always constitutes himself host if he has the least excuse for +so doing. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> a way he has. Nothing but a man's own hearthstone in +his own particular castle stops him. He takes possession of all neutral +ground like that of a hotel, and considers it his duty to make matters +pleasant for all around him.</p> + +<p>Harding and Gardiner were a half-dozen years younger than Furness, and +it was not many years since I had trained them for very much the same +kind of games as those of the afternoon. Harding was a big fellow, with +broad shoulders, and a mop of yellow hair. He had been a mighty good man +in his day with both "shot" and "hammer." Harry Gardiner had been a +sprinter,—one of the best starters I ever knew,—and a finisher, too, +which does not always follow. The Colonel got along very well with them +all,—a little reserved at first, and studying all three of them in a +very quiet way. He could sometimes not quite make out what Harding, who +had a very choice vocabulary of Americanisms, was driving at, and one or +two of Tom's jokes he failed utterly to comprehend; but he seemed to +understand the men themselves fairly well, nevertheless. We chatted +together a few minutes, and then Furness declared it was time to start, +producing cigars which would have tempted a modern Adam more than any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +apple in the Garden of Eden. So the Colonel and myself left the others, +and were soon comfortably ensconced in a clean hansom, behind a good +piece of horseflesh, and bowling along toward the Queen's Club Grounds +at a very respectable rate of speed.</p> + +<p>We enjoyed our ride very thoroughly, and arrived at the Comeragh Road +entrance almost too soon, for the crowd was only beginning to gather. We +obtained programmes, and entering the gateway found ourselves in full +view of the grounds at once.</p> + +<p>A mighty fine sight they were, too, the stretch of level greensward, +hard and velvety, with the dark brown cinder-path encircling it. The +seats rose on all sides but one, and there, outside the fence, was the +fringe of waving trees, and the red brick houses, trim and neat. Over +all was the soft blue sky, with here and there a drifting cloud. I could +see the Colonel's eyes glisten. He had spent the best part of his life +in a country which alternated between the baked brown clay of the dry +season and the wild luxuriance that followed the rains. He went to the +very outside edge of the track, and took a careful step or two on it, +examining it with the eye of a connoisseur,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> for he knew something of a +track, although he had not seen one for many years. "'Tis fast," said +he, knowingly. "With the heat and calm the conditions are right enough, +and the men will have nobody to blame but themselves if they do not come +close to the records."</p> + +<p>We walked slowly by the telegraph office, and back of the tennis courts. +As we passed the Tea-room we could see a few people at the tables, and +quite a little group was gathered around the Members' Pavilion. We went +by the Royal Box, with its crimson draperies, and found our seats close +to the finish of the hundred-yard, half, mile, and three-mile runs. The +Colonel gave himself at once to the careful examination of the +programme, as did I myself. The "Oxford and Cambridge" was printed in +dark blue ink, and "Harvard and Yale" in crimson. For stewards there +were C. N. Jackson and Lees Knowles, the former once the finest hurdler +in England. For the Americans, E. J. Wendell and C. H. Sherrill +officiated; many a bit of red worsted had I seen the latter break across +the sea. Judges, referee, and timekeeper were alike well known on both +continents, and had all heard the crunch of a running shoe as it bit +into the cinders. Wilkinson of Sheffield was to act as "starter."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He has the reputation of never having allowed a fraction to be stolen +on his pistol," remarked the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Let him watch Blount to-day then," I said.</p> + +<p>The Colonel ran his finger down the list. "Nine contests in all. One of +strength, three of endurance, two of speed, two of activity, and the +'quarter' only is left where speed and bottom are both needed. How will +they come out?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"About five to four," I answered, "but I cannot name the winner. On form +Old England should pull off the 'broad jump,' the 'mile' and 'three +miles,' and New England is quite sure of the 'hammer' and 'high jump.' +This leaves the 'hundred' and 'hurdles,' the 'quarter' and 'half' to be +fought out, although of course nothing is sure but death and taxes."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it will be easy to distinguish the men by their style and +manner," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"You will not see much difference," I replied. "The Americans wear the +colors more conspicuously, Harvard showing crimson, and Yale dark blue. +'Tis the same shade as Oxford's. The Americans have also the letters 'H' +and 'Y' marked plainly on the breasts of their jerseys. There are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> some +of the contestants arriving now," I remarked, pointing across the track; +"would you like to see them before they strip?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly would," he answered; and we slipped out of our seats and +around the track to the Members' Pavilion, in front of which they stood. +Just before we reached them, however, we met Furness, Harding, and +Gardiner, the former holding a little chap about ten years old by the +hand, who was evidently his "sire's son," for his eyes were big with +excitement and pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Which are they?" inquired the Colonel, a little doubtfully. "That chap +in front is an English lad or I miss my guess," looking admiringly at a +young giant apparently not more than twenty years old, and perhaps the +finest-looking one of the lot. His hat was in his hand, his eyes were +bright, and skin clear, with a color that only perfect condition brings.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered, rather pleased at his mistake; "that is a Harvard +Freshman, though he bears a good old English name. Since Tom of Rugby, +the Browns have had a name or two in about every good sporting event on +earth. Would you like to know him?" I asked, for just then the young +fellow spied me out and came forward to meet me with a smile of +recognition. I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> quite willing to introduce H. J. Brown to the +Colonel, although it was hardly fair to present him as a sample of an +American boy. As Tom would have said, it was showing the top of a +"deaconed" barrel of apples.</p> + +<p>The young fellow shook the Colonel's hand with an easy self-possession, +coloring a little under his brown skin at the older man's close +scrutiny, who said a quiet word concerning the games, and asked him if +he felt "fit."</p> + +<p>"I'm as fit as they can make a duffer," he answered. "Boal, over there," +pointing to an older man with a strong face full of color and who was a +bit shorter and even more strongly built,—"Boal is the man who throws +the hammer. He's better than I by a dozen feet."</p> + +<p>"Yes," remarked Tom, coming forward and shaking Brown's hand with a +hearty grip, "this young man is not an athlete at all; he worked so hard +at his studies that they sent him over here to recruit his health, +impaired by too close application. He is strong only in his knowledge of +Greek verbs and logarithms."</p> + +<p>At this there was quite a laugh, in which Brown joined heartily and the +Colonel came in with a quiet chuckle, for he had come to quite enjoy +Tom's "little jokes;" and under cover of our amusement the young fellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +left us and disappeared in the dressing-room.</p> + +<p>The Colonel watched the little string of well-groomed fellows file +along, taking particular notice of the smallest chap of all, who came +laughing by, swinging his dress-suit case as if it weighed a scant +pound. "What does he do?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"That's Rice, the high jumper," spoke up Tom. "He is good for six feet +before or after breakfast. Indeed I think he could do the distance +between every course of a long dinner, with perhaps an extra inch or two +before the roast."</p> + +<p>"He has the best style of any man we have," volunteered Gardiner, "and +goes over the bar as if he had wings."</p> + +<p>I tried to get the Colonel to look over the English lads. "Oh, they 're +all right, I know. I want to see how near the American boys can come to +them," said he, for the Colonel was loyal to his own, and after his long +absence thought all the more of everything the Old Country produced. We +did get a look at one or two, among them Vassall, an Oriel man, whom Tom +pointed out, although how he knew him I could not guess. He was a +grand-looking fellow, very strongly put together, and he walked as if on +eggs.</p> + +<p>"He looks like a winner, sure enough," said I.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," continued the Colonel, "old Oriel always has a good thing or two +on field and river both."</p> + +<p>By this time the seats were filling rapidly, the stands were becoming +crowded, and around the track were rows of people seated on the grass. +We elbowed our way to our own places, and were settled at last, the +Colonel on my left, little Billy Furness next, and Tom last of the row. +In front of us were Gardiner and Harding, and behind, four or five +American girls, two of them pretty, and all of them well dressed, with +plenty of crimson and blue in their costumes.</p> + +<p>We had scarcely taken our seats when one of the girls discovered the +royal carriage, jumping to her feet so hurriedly that she rather +disturbed the Colonel's hat, for which she apologized so prettily that +he must have felt indebted to her, despite the trouble. We all rose as +the royal party alighted from their carriage, and the London Victoria +Military Band played as only they can on such an occasion.</p> + +<p>We could see the Prince plainly, and with his light clothes and hat he +set a good example of comfort to others. He looked to me much as he did +when I saw him last on a Derby day many years ago. A good patron of +sport has he always been, and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> presence now gave color and zest to +the whole affair. When he appeared in the box, he stood for a few +moments, his eyes wandering over the grounds, and a smile of pleasure on +his face. A royal sight it was, too, for the sun was shining brightly on +the many-colored bank of spectators that circled the track. The hurdles +stood in straight rows on the farther side, and right in front were the +twin flag-staffs, at the feet of which hung the Union Jack and Stars and +Stripes ready to hoist as one or the other country won. In the middle of +the field were the blackboard and a megaphone, suspended from a tripod +for indicating to eye and ear the results of the contest and records +made.</p> + +<p>The first contestants to show were the "hammer throwers," and the big +fellows were greeted with a rattling round of applause as they crossed +the track, Greenshields of Oxford, Baines of Cambridge, Boal and Brown +of Harvard, chatting cordially together as they walked over the field to +their places in the farther corner.</p> + +<p>The little girl behind us offered the Colonel her field-glasses, which +he was glad to get, and for which he thanked her heartily.</p> + +<p>"Take them whenever you want," she said with a smile; "you'll find them +right here in my lap."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now this certainly was a freedom to which the Colonel was not +accustomed, but I noticed that he seemed to adjust himself to it very +easily. It was not, perhaps, the manner of the "Vere de Veres," but was +very cordial, which was something better still.</p> + +<p>"Who is expected to win?" inquired the Colonel, as Greenshields began to +swing the hammer around his head.</p> + +<p>"This is supposed to be a sure thing for Boal of Harvard," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Yes," spoke up little Billy, "and I know him too. Case Boal is a +daisy."</p> + +<p>"A daisy is he?" asked the Colonel, looking down at the little fellow's +flushed face. "He looks to me more like a big red rose. Do you throw the +hammer too?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Billy, gravely, "though I've got a cousin, most fifteen, +who throws the twelve-pound hammer, and is a 'cracker jack.'"</p> + +<p>"A cracker jack, is he?" inquired the Colonel; "and are you a cracker +jack too?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," answered Billy, "I'm not much. I sprint a little, and won +second place in the 'hundred' at my school games this spring. I want to +run the 'quarter,' but dad won't let me till I'm older. That was his +distance, and when I go to college I shall try for the quarter too."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bless his heart," said the Colonel to me. "Are there many American boys +like him?"</p> + +<p>"The woods are full of them," I answered. "There goes Brown; I want you +to see him throw. He will not do Boal's distance, but is improving every +day, and has a very pretty style. He is probably a few yards better than +Greenshields, and Baines can hardly get the hammer away at all. The +Englishmen have really no show in this event, for it is not cultivated +as it should be in the Universities."</p> + +<p>"Why, then," asked the Colonel, "did our men include it with no hope of +winning?"</p> + +<p>"It was a very sportsmanlike thing to do," declared Furness, "and +arranged in much the same spirit as the three-mile run, which is a +distance unknown in America, and in which we have not the least chance."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, "I cannot remember a contest in which there was so little +jockeying in the preliminaries. They were conducted in the most liberal +manner on both sides, and many concessions were made. One of the best +illustrations is the 'hurdle race,' which will be run over turf, as is +the custom here, while the hurdles will be movable, as is usual in +America."</p> + +<p>"That is the true spirit of amateur sport," said the Colonel, "and is a +mighty fine thing, whichever wins."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now I must confess that at this moment I found myself in a very peculiar +state of mind. I was not sure which team I preferred to carry off the +odd event. This was very unusual for me, as I am always something of a +partisan, and cannot see two little chaps running a barefooted race +along the street without picking a favorite, being a bit pleased if he +wins and disappointed if he loses. But to-day there was on one side the +country of my birth and on the other that of my adoption, and between +them I was utterly unable to choose. So evenly did they draw upon my +sentiment that I made up my mind I should be satisfied either way, and +meanwhile I could enjoy myself without prejudice.</p> + +<p>"There's the jumpers," suddenly cried out little Billy, whose quick eye +had first discovered them emerging from the crowd that fringed the track +in front of the dressing-rooms. Sure enough, there were Daly and Roche +in their crimson sweaters looking over the ground. The former carefully +paced off his distance from the joist and marked his start, and as he +did so, Vassall and Beven appeared, sporting respectively the dark and +light blue, and shook hands with their opponents.</p> + +<p>"Who is the favorite here?" inquired the Colonel.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Vassall will win in a walk," answered Tom.</p> + +<p>At this the Colonel was entirely at sea.</p> + +<p>"But," said he, "I did not think there was to be a walk at all," +examining his programme carefully. Then catching Tom's meaning, he +continued, "You mean he wins easily? Well, I'm glad of that. I should +like to see one first at least pulled off by the old college."</p> + +<p>"Nothing will stop him but an attack of apoplexy before his first jump," +declared Tom, positively. "He will not need to take another. I saw him +in the spring games, and a more natural jumper I never saw. He is at +least a foot better than Daly, who I believe never made a broad jump in +public until it was known he might be needed by his college."</p> + +<p>"You ought to see him play football," said Billy here, looking up at the +Colonel with admiring eyes. "He's a 'dandy,' and just as cool as that +'measurer' over there," pointing to a gentleman who had bent over the +many throws of the hammer until he was in a most profuse perspiration. +At this there was a laugh from all round, which was followed by another +as Billy's example of coolness wiped his beaded brow.</p> + +<p>The "hammer" and "long jump" are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> not very rapid events at best, but +they answered very well while the late-comers were finding their seats. +I was particularly pleased to note that Tom had eyes only for Vassall, +whose easy style took his fancy amazingly, while the Colonel saw nothing +to admire but the Americans' exhibition with the weight.</p> + +<p>He borrowed the glasses from the little girl behind him, with whom he +had become very friendly for so reserved a man, and watched Brown +carefully as he planted his feet firmly in the seven-feet circle, swung +the heavy hammer around his head again and again without moving from his +ground, until with a last fierce effort he sent the missile whirling +through the air in a long arc to strike with a dull thud.</p> + +<p>Just as the Colonel started to comment on it admiringly, however, he was +interrupted by a cheer as on one of the flag-poles that rose side by +side in front of the royal box the Union Jack was hoisted to indicate +that England had won the first event. A little later on the other pole +the Stars and Stripes were run up, and we knew that the "hammer throw" +had gone to the Americans, and honors were easy.</p> + +<p>The blackboard showed that Vassall had jumped his twenty-three feet, and +Boal had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> thrown one hundred and thirty-six feet eight and one-half +inches, both very excellent performances.</p> + +<p>The Colonel was enjoying himself immensely, and I was gratified to see +how much at home he had made himself. He found in Furness a very +congenial spirit, Billy was a boy after his own heart, and the young +ladies behind him were interesting enough to take quite a little of his +attention. He was telling them something about a polo match in India +when I interrupted him to point out the men going to their marks for the +"hundred-yard dash."</p> + +<p>We could look along the splendid track with the narrow laneways made by +the white cords. Hind of Oxford inside, then Quinlan with an "H" on his +crimson jersey, then Thomas with the narrow stripes of dark blue, and +outside Blount with a jersey of the same color and the "Y" on his +breast.</p> + +<p>"Who wins here?" asked the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"I give it up," answered Tom; "this is a race."</p> + +<p>We could hear the starter's "Marks," "Set;" the wreath of smoke rose +from his pistol, and before the sound reached us, they were off, Blount +a bit the first, Hind and Quinlan close together, and Thomas a shade +behind. Did Blount beat the pistol? I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> not sure. He was certainly in +the lead; then Quinlan came up, to be in turn collared by Thomas, who +had a shade the best of it until the last few strides, when the big +fellow in the crimson jersey made a supreme effort and shot by us, a +winner by a foot.</p> + +<p>"Close work that," remarked Harding.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Tom, "it was a close fit, and not much cloth left."</p> + +<p>When the American flag went up again, and the blackboard showed the ten +seconds with no fraction to mar its symmetry, there was very hearty +applause from the whole field. Even time in the "hundred"! Only the +aristocracy belong here. This is where fractions tell, this race "that +is run in a breath." There are thousands good for ten-two, tens are +equal to the ten-one, but the men who can do the straight ten can be +counted on the fingers of the hand, and even then the conditions must +suit them.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," remarked the Colonel, with a far-away look in his eyes, +"I can remember the day when I would have given a year of my life to +have seen those figures after my name? I had a friend once who held the +watch over me on a still June afternoon who showed the figure, but I +never saw it again, and I fear that friendship made the watch stop a bit +too soon."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>The "mile" was not a race at all. When Hunter of Cambridge romped in a +winner by a good twenty yards, with Dawson of Oxford beating out Spitzer +of Yale by a very determined finish, Tom declared that it was "a very +pretty procession, with a big gap after the band wagon." Freemantle gave +a beautiful example of pacemaking, and what Hunter might have done had +he been forced is only guesswork.</p> + +<p>It now stood even again with a two to two, to which Oxford and Cambridge +had each contributed a win, and Harvard two. Yale had not distinguished +herself as yet; 1899 is certainly not Yale's year.</p> + +<p>As the men went to their marks for the hurdles, starting in the farther +corner of the field and finishing far to our right, they were watched +with particular interest, for this was considered by many to be the +pivotal race. Paget-Tomlinson was known to be good for his sixteen +seconds, and might knock a fraction off this. Just what Fox could do was +more of a question, although the story of a very pretty trial had leaked +out in some way.</p> + +<p>Tom told the Colonel it was a case of "horse and horse," which +expression he was forced to explain, as it was a shade too doubtful.</p> + +<p>A hurdle-race is a pretty sight over cinders,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> but on turf as green and +level as a billiard-table it was doubly beautiful.</p> + +<p>We could see Fox and Hallowell crouch for the start, and Tomlinson and +Parkes bend forward. I did not hear the pistol, so fascinated was I, as +the men came away, skimming over the ground like four swallows, and +rising over the first row of hurdles as if they had wings.</p> + +<p>It is easy to judge a hurdle-race from any angle. All that is necessary +is to watch the men rise, for the one that lifts first is certainly +ahead. Sometimes a race is won in the "run in," but not often. At the +first hurdle the men rose almost together, at the second Parks and +Hallowell were a bit late, at the third they were plainly behind, and +Paget-Tomlinson was also a bit tardy. From this out, Fox drew ahead all +the time, finishing with a burst of speed that put the result entirely +out of doubt.</p> + +<p>I had just remarked, after the applause had somewhat subsided, that +Tomlinson must have been "off form" when the board showed a fifteen and +three-fifths, and I revised my conclusion. The "Cantab" had done better +time than ever, but Fox had demolished the record.</p> + +<p>It was right here that the Colonel received something of a shock, for a +little behind us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> and on our right a young fellow suddenly sprang to his +feet, and called out at the top of his voice: "All together now. Three +long Harvards, and three times three for Harvard." And then from a +hundred throats came "Harvard, Harvard, Harvard, rah rah rah rah rah rah +rah rah rah, Harvard."</p> + +<p>The Colonel confessed to me afterward that his first thought was that +some one had gone crazy. "By Jove," said he, "I have heard 'Fuzzy Wuzzy' +make some queer noises in my time, but that beats them all."</p> + +<p>I explained to him that it was a custom among the American colleges to +have a particular cheer to encourage or applaud, but I saw that it took +all the Colonel's accumulated enthusiasm to carry him through. It did +sound a bit queer on the Queen's Grounds, however it might go on the +Soldiers' Field in Cambridge, Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>The events now stood three to two in favor of New England, and their +chances did look very good to me. They needed but two more wins out of +the four remaining, and one of these was the "high jump," which on form +was a certainty for them. To be sure, it was whispered that Burke had +"gone stale," but I had seen him win so many times when he was plainly +not in condition, that I did not count him out. Then, again, there was +Boardman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> in the "quarter," and Yale was "about due," according to Tom.</p> + +<p>At the very start of the "half" Struben started out to make pace in a +very business-like manner, which the Americans might have copied to +advantage. Indeed from first to last they showed little knowledge of +this useful accomplishment. That Burke tailed on was a surprise to no +one who had seen him run, for with his turn of speed his game is to keep +close up and run his man down in the last fifty yards. Yet I did not +like the way he took his first step. He seemed dead and in difficulties +after the first lap. I heard the little girl behind us declare +confidently, "Just wait till Tom Burke reaches the straight."</p> + +<p>We did wait, sure enough, but he never came. Graham passed Struben, and +finished comfortably in one fifty-seven and one-fifth, with Adams a poor +third. The score was now even again, with three to three, and, as +Furness declared, he was "beginning to have a touch of 'heart disease.'"</p> + +<p>"It is certainly 'up to Boardman' now," said Tom, as the men went to +their marks for the "quarter." "Unless he can pull this off we are +counted out, and no mistake."</p> + +<p>The young Yale Freshman had before this run half round the track, to +limber up a bit, and appeared right on edge.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was hardly a sound as the men waited for the signal. Nobody cared +to talk as they took their places for that most punishing of all +distances, the "quarter mile," and every one watched the little bunch of +men in the far corner of the field.</p> + +<p>Hollins, the stocky little Oxford man, was away first, as if for one +hundred yards. He drew Boardman and Fisher after him at a killing pace, +Davison running easily behind. Round the first turn they came, Boardman +inside and on practically even terms with Hollins, the tall Yale man +looking a bit anxious even then. Down the stretch they sprinted, still +at top speed. At the last turn Boardman shot ahead, and for a brief +second looked all over a winner. It was only for a second, however, for +Hollins swung wide, and Davison came through like a locomotive, as +strong and speedy. Boardman made a plucky effort, but the big "Cantab" +would not be denied; he came to the front thirty yards from the finish, +and the best the Yale man could do was to stagger over, five yards to +the bad, and dead run out. Whether or no he would have done any better +if he had stayed back instead of following Hollins I cannot tell.</p> + +<p>"Poor old Yale," said Furness, contemplatively, when the applause had +died out, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> Americans joining gamely, although they knew their last +hope went with this event. "Poor old Yale, it was not always thus. I can +remember a time when Yale men had a very pretty knack of breaking the +worsted and letting the other fellows run between the posts, but this is +not Yale's day nor year."</p> + +<p>We now had time to watch the "high jumping," which was going on in front +of us and a little to the right. The bar had reached five feet ten +inches, and Paget-Tomlinson had gone out at five-five. Rotch comes first +and is over, although he touches the bar, and it trembles a moment +uncertain. Adair is over too. The English lad takes his run a bit across +and goes over with a grand lift from his long legs. Here comes Rice, who +has not yet pulled off his sweater, although the bar is already several +inches over his head. The little chap bends forward, gets on his toes, +gives a short run straight at it, lifts in the air like a bird, shoots +over, turning in the air meanwhile, lands lightly with his face to the +bar he has just cleared, and runs back under it to his place. It is the +prettiest performance for a high jump that the Colonel has ever seen, +and he applauds vigorously, as do many others. At the next lift of the +bar Rotch goes out, for he has not been himself quite, and is not equal +to the six feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> which he has so often negotiated. We expected also to +see Adair drop out here, for five eight and one-fourth had been his best +record; but he showed daylight between himself and the bar, and for the +first time I began to be anxious. I truly did not care which team won, +but I did not want to see anything worse than a five-four, and it looked +now as if it might be a six-three.</p> + +<p>Up goes the bar to five-eleven, and again both Adair and Rice are equal +to the task before them. With Adair it is the performance of a grand +natural jumper, but with Rice it is all this, and a style that must be +worth inches to him.</p> + +<p>At six feet the Oxford man did not go at the bar with quite the +determination he had previously shown, and down it came. Rice now pulls +off his sweater for the first time, showing how well put together he is +from head to foot. Straight for the bar he goes, just the same as when +it was at five-six, and he clears it with apparently the same ease as at +the lower distance. Adair struggles gamely, but his last try is +unsuccessful, and the score stands four to four, with only the +"three-mile" left.</p> + +<p>I could see very plainly now that the Colonel was getting a bit nervous. +"Do you consider this a certain thing for Workman?" he asked me, after +Tom had declared that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Americans had no chance at all, and that the +contest was all over "but the shouting."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered. "None of the Americans have ever done the distance, +and this is where condition tells. I doubt if they could pull it off on +neutral ground; after a sea voyage and a few days in a different climate +they are simply out of it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Colonel, "I shall feel better when it is over. I have +seen enough of the Yankee boys to have considerable respect for them, +even in a race they have no right to win."</p> + +<p>The six contestants took their places in that leisurely manner which is +always shown in a distance run. This race is not won at the start,—not +much. All the same the Britishers were quite willing to make pace, for +they swung ahead at the beginning, and for several laps Workman of +Cambridge, Smith and Wilberforce of Oxford, showed the way around at a +fair pace. Tom had his watch out and caught four fifty-eight for the +first mile. At the end of the fifth lap Smith retired, after having made +pace for a considerable part of the journey, leaving his man, Workman, +in the lead and running strongly. Only a little later Clarke, who had +given no clue to his difficulties and had been running well, suddenly +collapsed, dropping on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> track without a word, almost without a +stagger, and was carried to the grass completely "run out." It was a +"run out" too, and not one of the grand-stand performances which we +sometimes see.</p> + +<p>At the close of the two miles Wilberforce suddenly retired, having +suffered badly with a stitch in his side which he could not overcome, +and Workman, Palmer, and Foote only were left, the last dropping a bit +behind all the time, but sticking doggedly to it nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" exclaimed the Colonel, in the middle of the seventh lap, +"that man Palmer looks dangerous; he is clinging to Workman's heels and +is running fully as easily."</p> + +<p>"He is doing well," I answered, "but I do not like his color. Look at +Workman's face and you will see the difference."</p> + +<p>"Difference or not," spoke up the Colonel, excitedly, "there he goes;" +and true enough, Palmer suddenly quickened his stride and took the lead.</p> + +<p>"He'll do it," cried the Colonel; but the "Cantab" immediately regained +his premier place again, while a great cheer went up from the crowd. +Twice after in the eighth lap did Palmer repeat the performance, but +each time Workman came up again. Every one was now on his feet, as the +bell rang for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> last lap. There was a hoarse murmur of excitement; +the Colonel muttered something under his breath. Tom was pressing his +leg against mine as if he thought he could push his man along. Billy was +jumping up and down, and the little girl behind us was laughing rather +hysterically. Which would win, Old England or New England?</p> + +<p>It was settled in a most conclusive way by Workman himself, for the bell +seemed to act like an elixir of life to him. Suddenly he began to +lengthen and quicken his stride, and he left Palmer as if he were +anchored. Round the track he swung as if it was the first lap of the +"half," and when he broke the worsted he was raised by willing hands to +the shoulder and carried to the dressing-room in triumph. The crowd +surged onto the track, as they ought not, and interfered with Palmer's +finish; but it did not harm him, for he was really "run out," and Foote +was yards behind, though running pluckily.</p> + +<p>We were all mixed up together for a few minutes, shaking hands all +round, all of us with flushed faces. Billy had a suspiciously red nose, +and the little girl behind us one big tear on her cheek.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Colonel caught my arm and pointed to the two flags, the +Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes waving side by side.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look at that," he cried; "that's a sight worth coming far to see."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Tom, uncovering, "and with lads like those who have fought +it out to-day to defend them, it would be a bad job to try to pull them +down."</p> + +<p>We lingered for a little while, and when we separated it was agreed that +Tom and I should join the Colonel and a friend at the Army and Navy Club +for dinner.</p> + +<p>There we talked of many things, but mostly of the two great nations +which we represented. "'Tis the same breed, after all," declared the +Colonel, oracularly. "Of course the cross strain is there, but it has +not hurt at all as far as I can see. Do you know what did the most to +convert me? Well, it was that handshake with young Brown. A Frenchman +can't shake hands, and neither can a German, though good fellows both +may be. But Brown had the good firm grip close to the crotch of the +thumb, and looked me straight in the eye meanwhile. 'Tis only the +Anglo-Saxon can do this properly."</p> + +<p>When the evening was well on, we drank a toast or two; for the Colonel's +friend, who was a retired naval officer, declared that it was an +occasion where a dry dinner would be a disgrace, and he was strongly +seconded by Tom.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>So first came "The Queen, God bless her."</p> + +<p>Then "The President, God help him," as Tom piously ejaculated.</p> + +<p>We drank to the two teams, good winners and plucky losers both, and then +to the flags.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing against the other bits of bunting," declared Tom, +generously; "but what is the use of having more than two? Let us arrange +it now. The Union Jack shall fly over the eastern, and the Stars and +Stripes over the western hemisphere. The Frenchman, German, and Russian +shall take what is left."</p> + +<p>"That leaves them the sea," I interposed.</p> + +<p>"The sea!" cried Tom; "why, that is ours already beyond dispute."</p> + +<p>It was just at midnight that we drank our last toast with all the +honors. It was the "Anglo-Saxon Race." May its two great nations never +meet in sterner conflict than that fought out in friendliness, on green +field and brown cinder-path, under a smiling sky!</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="MY_FIRST_FOR_MONEY" id="MY_FIRST_FOR_MONEY"></a> +<img src="images/ill_003.jpg" width="600" height="209" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>It was late in the winter of 186- that I arrived in Boston, having bade +farewell to Old England for good and all.</p> + +<p>It was not an easy thing to do, and it was with a wrench of the heart +that I made the break-away.</p> + +<p>I confess the separation was not entirely of my own choosing, that I +left under a cloud I do not care to lift, that I had sinned the sins of +youth and repented of them. Nothing more shall I say; but one thing I +can never quite forget,—back in old Lancashire was I gentleman born and +bred.</p> + +<p>When I landed, less than fifty dollars had I in my pocket; but that did +not fret me, for I had been assured an Englishman of good birth and +breeding had but to pick and choose in the "States." All my money and +most of my conceit were gone when I met Arthur Hacking a month later.</p> + +<p>I had first stopped at a good hotel, and offered my services at genteel +occupations, such as banking and school-teaching. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> business men, +very naturally, declined to trust a man without references who admitted +that his past was not clear; and from school-teaching I was prohibited +by a lamentable weakness in both mathematics and the languages. Indeed, +I then realized for the first time that there were more important +schools than that of the "cinder-path," and something more was needed to +get on in the world than a highly cultivated pair of legs.</p> + +<p>As my money disappeared my ideas moderated. I moved to less and less +pretentious quarters, until an attic-room and a sickly fire became +luxuries I was likely soon to miss.</p> + +<p>As if it were yesterday do I remember the raw March morning, when, +having spent a few cents out of my only remaining dollar, I set out to +make a last desperate effort for employment other than that of the +horny-handed son of toil. At noon I stood on the corner of Washington +street and Cornhill, utterly at a loss what to do. My overcoat was in +pawn, and an east wind, such as Boston only knows, was freezing my very +marrow. The streets were full of half-melted snow and ice, and my feet +were wet and cold.</p> + +<p>As I stood there with much of the feeling and something of the attitude +of a lost dog, I suddenly recognized a man to whom I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> applied a few +days before for a position as bookkeeper. I stopped him and asked +bluntly for work of any kind. He offered me a job as day laborer, +cutting ice on some pond several miles away; for he was the manager of +an ice company. I should have accepted at once had he not, with true +Yankee shrewdness, argued from my evident necessity and unskilfulness +that I should work for less than a regular day's pay. At this I +demurred, but should certainly have yielded had not Hacking, by some +freak of fortune, passing by, caught in my speech the accents of the +"old Shire."</p> + +<p>He introduced himself without ceremony, and taking me by the arm, led me +away, telling the ice-cutter to go to a place where the climate would +give him no occupation, unless he changed his business.</p> + +<p>Hacking was a big, bluff chap with a red face, and not a bit of the +Yankee about him, though he was then some ten years over. When he +offered me his friendship, and suggested that we could talk better in a +warm place, and after a lunch, you may be sure I did not refuse him. My +heart and stomach were alike empty.</p> + +<p>All through my disappointments a stiff upper lip had I kept, but this +first bit of kindness was almost too much for me, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> nearly played +the woman for all my twenty years.</p> + +<p>We adjourned to the "Bell-in-hand," where I told as little as possible +of my story to him, between alternate mouthfuls of cold beef and +swallows of old ale.</p> + +<p>I confessed to him I was "dead broke," and could find no employment; +that is, no employment for which I was fitted. He asked me for what I +was fitted, and I told him I was blessed if I knew; that as near as I +could discover day labor was about all I was good for. He clapped me on +the back with a "Never say die, my lad!" but could think of no +suggestion which promised me any relief, and finally invited me to drive +home with him. He owned a little inn at Brighton, and promised me food +and shelter for a few days until I could "gather myself together."</p> + +<p>That this very necessary feat could be performed in a "few days" I very +much doubted; but the invitation I accepted gratefully, and five o'clock +found me sitting beside him on the narrow seat of a light carriage, my +portmanteau tied on behind.</p> + +<p>The road to Brighton was a very decent one, and the big roan mare he +drove reeled off the miles in a way that opened my eyes to the +possibilities of the trotting horse. I doubt if there was her equal in +all England.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>A clock was striking six when we stopped before the door of the +"Traveller's Rest," and I slid off the seat on to the frozen ground, my +legs so stiff that I could scarcely walk.</p> + +<p>It was a large white house, with green blinds, and a piazza with tall +white pillars in front. Cosy enough it seemed, too, with its lighted +windows and its smell of hot meats; while from the bar in the corner +came the sounds of a jingling piano and a good voice singing an Old +Country ballad of "Jack and his Susan."</p> + +<p>I found the inside of the house as comfortable as the outside looked +inviting, and it was after a better dinner than I had eaten for many +days that I sat with Hacking in a little parlor off the bar, my feet +toasting at a coal fire, taking a comforting pipe and an occasional sip +of the "necessary."</p> + +<p>It did not take me long to find that Hacking was most interested in +sporting matters, and our conversation gradually harked back to the +cracks of the cinder-path who were in their glory when he left +Lancashire, ten years before. A little information I gave him about old +friends, and then we talked of those who had taken their places, Hacking +bewailing the fact that there were none like the "good uns" of the past.</p> + +<p>"How many men are there to-day," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> asked, "who can do the hundred in +even time?"</p> + +<p>"There are very few good sound even-timers in all England," I answered, +"and only two among the amateurs,—one a Cockney, the other a +Yorkshireman. The only Lancashireman who can do the hundred in ten +seconds is sitting with you to-night, and little likely to see the Old +Country again for many a long year, if ever."</p> + +<p>At this, Hacking gave me a very comprehensive look, puffed a few times +vigorously at his pipe, and said, "Young fellow, boasting is a very bad +habit, particularly on sporting matters. I will bet you your board bill +for a month against the pipe you smoke, that you cannot show me better +than eleven seconds to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Eleven seconds!" said I, "a school-boy should do that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, eleven seconds," spoke up Hacking again. "You are not in condition +and the track is slow, which will even matters up, and I'll give you the +advantage of the odd fraction."</p> + +<p>I accepted his proposition very promptly, though the pipe was the only +friend I had, and a relic of old college days which I should have hated +to lose. While I was certainly not in training, poverty and worry had +left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> me no superfluous flesh, and it must be a bad track indeed which +could pull me back to eleven.</p> + +<p>We talked and smoked until a little after ten, when I pleaded fatigue +and went upstairs to bed, Hacking agreeing to call me at six o'clock the +following morning, as he said he had reasons for wishing the trial +private. He showed me to a very comfortable room on the second floor, +which seemed luxurious after my experiences of the last two weeks.</p> + +<p>Although I had left home without the formalities of farewell calls, and +under the cover of the night, I had put in my luggage, small as it was, +a pair of running shoes, trunks, and jersey. Why I did this I could not +have told; certainly not in expectation of using them again, for I +thought there was no sport in America, and that I had run my last race.</p> + +<p>I think now it must have been the unconscious wish to keep one link with +the good old days when I had carried the "dark blue" to the front, or +thereabout, over brown cinder path and soft green sod.</p> + +<p>I did not sleep very well for all my comfortable quarters, and when +Hacking knocked at my door on the following morning I had been up an +hour or more, and was clad in full running togs, having ripped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> from +trunks and jersey all trace of the well-loved color.</p> + +<p>When he looked me over his eyes glistened, for he had not seen an +English athlete in a proper rig for many a long day.</p> + +<p>We went down the back stairs and through the barn yard to a little track +behind the house. It was a foggy morning and one could barely see the +length of the hundred yards. I jogged once or twice over the course to +warm up, and discover some of the bad spots, and then announced that I +was ready for the trial.</p> + +<p>Just then the sun came out, and as I waited at the start while Hacking +went to the finish, he walked through a golden haze. It seemed a good +omen. I felt more at home in my running-shoes than I had since I left +the Old Country, and was once again happy, with my foot on the mark, +drinking in full draughts of fresh air and waiting for the signal to be +off.</p> + +<p>This was the drop of a handkerchief, for Hacking did not care to use a +pistol. There was the quick spring, the crunch of the cinders, the rush +of the soft wind, the ever-quickening stride, until with one last effort +I passed the post with a rush.</p> + +<p>It was a rough trial, sure enough, but Hacking's watch showed ten and +four-fifths. He announced himself satisfied, confirmed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> his promise, and +my worry about food and shelter was over for a full long month.</p> + +<p>I now spent a number of days trying still to find something to do which +I could fairly handle, going into the city each day, but entirely +without result.</p> + +<p>I was at no expense, however, for I walked to and from town, and took a +cold lunch with me. This last was attended to by Hacking's niece, a +tall, fair-haired girl, a trifle awkward yet, for she was only sixteen, +but pretty, and promising to be a real beauty later.</p> + +<p>She was very kind and gracious, as a good girl is sure to be toward one +in trouble. Indeed, Jennie's sympathy soon became liking, and might +perhaps have grown to something more had it received any encouragement. +I do not mean by this that I was irresistible or that she was at all +unmaidenly, for a more modest girl I never saw. But she was very lonely, +her uncle allowing her not the least word with any of his customers. I +was the first young fellow she had ever known, and sixteen is a romantic +age.</p> + +<p>Never was I beast enough to have gone further than a mild flirtation +with a girl like Jennie, and now I was bound in honor not to abuse the +confidence of a friend, the only one I had. There were some old +Lancashire memories, also, which would not down.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>I had not been long at the "Traveller's Rest" before, at Hacking's +request, I went into mild training, and soon after he broached to me a +plan by which I might make enough to keep me for some months, and +incidentally a comfortable penny for his own purse.</p> + +<p>This was the plan:</p> + +<p>There was in Boston a man by the name of Simmons, who was yards better +than any one in the country. Hacking plainly told me that while I ought +to win, even I had no sure thing, but that he would risk a hundred +dollars or more on my success; that he could get odds of at least two to +one, and that he would give me one-third of the winnings.</p> + +<p>It may be a matter of surprise that I should decline this offer,—almost +an object of charity, with everything to win and nothing to lose; but +there was something very disagreeable to me in the thought of turning +professional. The line between amateur and professional was then, and is +now, much more closely drawn on the other side than here,—and rightly +so, to my mind.</p> + +<p>While I do not propose to preach a sermon on this text, "I could, an' if +I would." The jockeying in our American colleges, though very skilfully +done, is bad in every way and hurts legitimate sport not a little.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>I felt, I say, that in running for a wager with a professional I was +forfeiting my standing as a gentleman amateur, and my claim to be +considered a gentleman at all.</p> + +<p>Jennie thought the same thing, and came mighty near a quarrel with her +uncle over the matter. But he, led more by the ambition to pull off a +good thing than by mercenary motives, would not give up his plan, though +Jennie begged with tears in her eyes,—an argument which had never +before been ineffectual.</p> + +<p>It was only when I had lived on his bounty a full week over the month +that he hinted, delicately enough (for a right good fellow was he), that +my time was up. There was nothing else to do but consent, and a week +later the "Boston Herald" announced that there was "a match on between +Chipper Simmons and Hacking's Unknown, $200 to $100, distance one +hundred yards, to be run May 1, at Hacking's Brighton track, at four +o'clock in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>I had three weeks of careful training on the wretched little track, and +when the morning of May 1 dawned I was fit as possible, and able to run +for my life. It was not an English May day, but more like what I was +used to seeing in the Old Country a month earlier. The sky was blue, and +across it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> drifted soft white clouds, for there had been showers in the +night. There was the smell of the moist earth, and what little wind +there was blew from the south, and carried the fragrance of the +pear-blossoms from a young orchard to my window as I threw it open.</p> + +<p>I took my tub and Hacking gave me a right good rub down after; not a +very artistic performance, but given with good will and with a strong +hand. When it was done he looked me over with a critical eye, +pronouncing me very fit, "barring a heavy pound or two;" but as I had +done my work faithfully he could find no fault. He thought me a bit +over-confident, and told me so; but I had never for a moment doubted my +ability to defeat anything against me, and I paid little attention to +his words. I was not conceited, but I knew there were not a half-dozen +amateurs in all England in my class, and was sure an Old-Country crack +must outclass anything the States could produce.</p> + +<p>As early as two o'clock the spectators began to arrive, and I, following +my own inclination as well as Hacking's suggestion to "get under cover," +went upstairs and knocked at the door of Jennie's little sitting-room.</p> + +<p>She greeted me most cordially with a handshake and a "good day to a good +winner."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> She was dressed in her best gown, and had been sitting at the +window to watch the arrivals. I took a seat by her side on the little +chintz-cushioned window-seat, and watched with her.</p> + +<p>To those who to-day see the throngs of well-dressed and refined people, +many of them ladies, who attend college, amateur, and even professional +sports, it may not be amiss to describe the spectators of my first match +at Hacking's Brighton track, back in the sixties, for a typical sporting +crowd it was.</p> + +<p>They drove to the door in all sorts and descriptions of vehicles, drawn +by animals as various. They soon filled the long sheds back of the +house, and then a dilapidated fence was utilized for hitching-posts, and +even a few trees of the young orchard.</p> + +<p>The drivers were many of them Englishmen, for the average American was +too keen after the dollars in those days to leave them for sport of any +kind. The adjournment to the bar was almost unanimous, where enough +money was taken for fancy drinks to make good Hacking's stake had he +lost.</p> + +<p>We could see them come swaggering up the steps, many of them carrying +whip in hand, and there was much loud talk of passing Tom, Dick, or +Harry on the road, with the "little bay" or the "brown colt."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>We could hear them plainly, for the window was up a bit, and they did +not talk in whispers.</p> + +<p>Every now and again some one would chaff Hacking on his Unknown, telling +him to "trot out the wonder," or "give us a sight of the man who runs +Simmons even."</p> + +<p>It was three o'clock when a long moving wagon labelled "Boston Belle" +drove up to the door, containing Simmons, his backers and immediate +attendants; and the crowd at the bar sauntered out on the piazza to meet +them, and hurried back in augmented numbers to patronize still further +the tall bottles behind the mahogany.</p> + +<p>I had a glimpse of Simmons as he stepped out; but he was enveloped in a +long ulster, and all I could discover was that he was extremely tall and +dark.</p> + +<p>His supporters had plenty of money, and soon ran the odds up to three to +one, at which figures Hacking accommodated them to a considerable +extent. I had not another supporter, however, for they all seemed to +consider that Hacking had quite lost his head, and took the match as a +huge joke. It was very evident that, if I broke the tape, it would be a +most unpopular, as well as unexpected, win. Hacking stuck to them well, +but at last got all he wanted, and declined to risk any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> more. So +confident was Simmons' principal backer that he proposed another match, +though this was not yet pulled off, agreeing to concede three yards when +we ran again.</p> + +<p>It is wonderful what effect such talk has on a contestant, no matter how +confident he may be. I had not for a moment doubted the ability of a +crack man like myself to beat anything in the States at my distance, but +I now began to admit the possibility of defeat, and to consider that it +meant almost starvation to me. You must remember I was barely twenty +years old, in a strange country, and a man trained close to the limit is +particularly liable to fancies.</p> + +<p>Jennie had been talking to me all the time in her quiet way, for she had +the good old English habit of subdued speech; but little did I hear +then, and now I remember almost nothing at all.</p> + +<p>I first noticed that she had become vastly indignant at a reflection on +the courage of the "Unknown who dares not show himself."</p> + +<p>"Don't fret: you'll see him soon enough, my man," she said, with a toss +of her head. She was giving me some absurd instructions about letting +Simmons get the best of the start, and then sailing by him in the last +few yards, so that the disappointment might be more intense, when some +one in the crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> yelled out with a Yorkshire accent, "Fifteen dollars +to five on the long-legged Chipper. Fifteen to five against the 'veiled +lady.'"</p> + +<p>There was a loud laugh at this, which was too much for Jennie. She +jumped up, went to her little desk in the corner, and took from one of +those secret drawers, which are so evident, her purse, and emptying it +in her lap counted out five dollars and a few cents over. She then +called the chamber-maid, gave her the five dollars, and told her to give +it to Jerry, the hostler, to bet on Mr. Brown.</p> + +<p>"'Tis an easy way to make money," she said, with an immense amount of +disdain at my remonstrance.</p> + +<p>I sat with her a while longer, she doing all the talking, for my mind +was occupied, to put it mildly. When the little clock on the shelf +pointed to three-thirty, I left to get into my running-togs, she giving +me a good grip with her soft warm hand, and saying, "I shall see you win +from the attic window."</p> + +<p>When I reached my room, which Hacking told me to keep locked, I had a +difficulty in finding the key-hole that I had never experienced, except +"after dinner" or at late hours of the evening, my fingers being quite +unsteady. As I stripped, my courage seemed to leave me with every +garment. I remember I wondered if it would come back again when I put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +on my running-clothes. A little better I did feel, but at the last +moment I broke the lace of my left shoe as I was pulling it tight.</p> + +<p>Now, there is an old superstition that this means a lost race, and +though I had never thought of such a foolish thing before, it seemed now +a sure omen of defeat.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I may as well confess first as last, that when Hacking knocked +at my door, for the first time in all my life (and the last as well) I +was in a blue funk.</p> + +<p>Yes, a rank quitter was I on that afternoon of May 1, 186-, and I am not +sure I should not have cut and run, had there been the least chance to +get away.</p> + +<p>Hacking discovered my condition at once, and grew mighty serious when +his efforts to hearten me were unsuccessful. And truly the man had good +reason to be serious,—a good three hundred dollars at risk, and here +was his man with knees kissing and lips white.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but to go on with the game, though, to make it +worse, as I walked down the back stairs, I caught my spikes in a crack +and nearly put myself out of the race by a bad fall before the start. It +is almost an absurd thing to say, but when I picked myself up and +discovered I was entirely uninjured, I cursed the ill-luck which had not +allowed me to be disabled.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>I did have pride enough to make a brace when I reached the open air, and +flattered myself I did not show how badly I felt.</p> + +<p>I was enveloped in a long top-coat, which hid me completely, but as we +forced our way to the track through the spectators, who crowded around +to get a look at me, my teeth were set to keep them from chattering. +There were several offers of three to one, and one of four to one, as we +passed; but Hacking said he had enough, and I think he told the truth +and could have said "more." He hurried on with me to the start, where +Simmons stood with a little cluster of his most ardent admirers.</p> + +<p>As we approached, Simmons threw off his ulster, and came forward to meet +me. His eye caught mine, and he smiled in a very peculiar way, +discovering immediately my condition, and held out a long brown hand, +without a word.</p> + +<p>I extended mine mechanically, expecting an ordinary handshake, but +greatly to my surprise he gripped it in a most vicious squeeze which +brought almost a cry of agony to my lips. I learned afterwards that this +was a common trick to intimidate and dishearten, but was entirely +unprepared for anything of the kind, having always run against +gentlemen, where all proper courtesies were observed.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>The effect upon me was, however, directly opposite that expected. My +trouble was not so much lack of courage as simple nervousness. With the +shock of the pain this disappeared as if by magic, and in its place came +at first a blind rage at the injury, which I could scarcely restrain, +and then the determination to win, if I never ran again.</p> + +<p>I was a different man. I threw off my top-coat, and facing my opponent, +looked him over critically and carefully. I am free to say I could not +deny him a long breath of admiration. He was over six feet tall, dark +and slender, showing signs of the infusion of Indian blood which was in +his veins. He was clad in a common undershirt, far from clean. Instead +of trunks he wore overalls cut off just above the knees, and on his feet +were a pair of well-seasoned moccasins.</p> + +<p>Yet despite his unsportsmanlike and ludicrous costume, a better-built +man for a sprinter I never saw, and I have seen some of the best.</p> + +<p>His legs were long and lithe, well-rounded, but not too heavily muscled, +and every cord and sinew showed through the brown skin as fine and firm +as a bowstring. He carried not an ounce of extra weight above the belt, +although his chest was full and his arms sinewy. With the strong jaw and +piercing black eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> there could be no question of their possessor's +determination. I knew my work was cut out for me with a big pair of +shears; that I had met a man as good if not better than myself, and I +must do all I knew to win. That I was to win I had now determined,—a +grand, good condition of mind for a contestant to possess.</p> + +<p>Simmons observed me as critically as I did him, and I think that the +more he saw of me the less he liked me. The contrast between us was as +great as possible. I was as fair as he was dark, several inches shorter, +and although without any superfluous flesh, much larger boned and +muscled. Indeed I was built more like a "quarter-miler" than a sprinter. +I must have bettered his weight by several pounds, and had not the +top-coat covered me, and my nervousness shown itself, I question if he +would have tried his little bit of brutality upon me.</p> + +<p>While the survey of my opponent was most comprehensive, it was the work +of seconds. He suddenly produced a roll of dirty bank-bills, and shook +them in my face with a "See here, young fellow, I go you one hundred to +fifty you're a loser." I opened my mouth to decline the bet, but my +words were drowned by a torrent of mingled abuse, invective, and I know +not what of "billingsgate." It ended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> in an endless repetition of the +very conclusive sentence, "Put up, or shut up," "Put up, or shut up," +which evidently gave him an extreme amount of satisfaction. I was not +then the possessor of fifty cents, and was pleased when the starter +silenced him with the peremptory order to "Get on your marks."</p> + +<p>I went to the line at once, followed by Simmons, and as the crowd was +being pressed back slowly behind the ropes, Hacking drew me a little +aside and gave me his last instructions. "Now, my lad, listen to what I +say. You've got your heart back all right, and can win if you use your +head. The starter will hurry the pistol a bit, for he would like to see +you win, and you need not be afraid of going away too soon. Get a yard +to the good, and hold it, for if you cannot show clear at the tape, you +will stand no show with the referee."</p> + +<p>I learned afterwards that while both were supposed to be fair and +unprejudiced men, Hacking had practically named the starter, and +Simmons' backer the referee. The former would give me all possible +advantage, and the latter would see none but my opponent at the finish +without opera-glasses unless I had him plainly beaten.</p> + +<p>To those who do not know, I will say that, in a sprint, very much +depends on the start;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> that a contestant must be off with the pistol, or +steal on it if he can. But if he gets away before the shot, he is +brought back and penalized a yard for each offence. Knowing that the +pistol would be a bit quick was a decided advantage to me, as I could +start without fear of being set back.</p> + +<p>As I got in position, I had made up my mind to the following facts: +First, that I had the best side of the track. It was the west or +farthest from the house, and well I knew every inch of the brown +cinder-path that stretched before me. For the first fifty yards there +was nothing to choose; but on the east side, which Simmons had taken, +just before the finish was a soft spot which would trouble him. Second, +the rain of the previous night had made the track quite heavy, which +should also help me, as my greater strength must push me through. Third, +my appearance had not been without its effect on the crowd, and I had +heard a word or two of approval of my "get-up," also of the quiet and +business-like way in which I had met Simmons' tirade.</p> + +<p>We were on our marks and waiting for the word when suddenly my opponent +discovered my running-shoes, and insisted that I must run in smooth +soles like himself.</p> + +<p>He kept up a wordy warfare with Hacking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> on this subject for at least +five minutes, Hacking arguing that there were no restrictions, and that +I could wear top-boots or golden slippers if I chose.</p> + +<p>Simmons was silenced at last by the crowd, who plainly saw I would not +run without spikes, and were bound to see a race.</p> + +<p>All this controversy, together with the continued brutality of my +opponent, had put me fairly on edge. I was as cool as possible, ready to +do all I knew, eager to start, and growing more determined if not more +confident every minute.</p> + +<p>I had given an occasional glance at the attic window of the hotel where +I could see Jennie, and every time I looked came the wave of a little +handkerchief that did me a heap of good.</p> + +<p>As I "set myself," and looked down the track, fringed on either side by +the crowds of spectators pressed close against the ropes, not one of +whom was friendly to me, every nerve of my body tingled, and the +"fighting blood" passed down to me through many generations of good old +English stock was at a fever heat.</p> + +<p>Now I saw nothing and thought of nothing but the red worsted at the +finish; I strained at the mark with every muscle tense, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> weight well +forward, and a buzz in my ears like the song of a huge top.</p> + +<p>From the starter's lips came the "On your marks,"—"Ready,"—"Set," and +then a bit ahead of time came the "crack" of the pistol, and we were +off.</p> + +<p>Can any one describe the mad ten seconds of a sprint? 'Tis over in a +breath, and words are slow.</p> + +<p>I doubt I had a foot the best of the start, but Simmons was a trifle +"phased" by the quick shot, and did not get his speed so quickly. But +when he did get it, how he came!</p> + +<p>At fifty yards we were even, and at seventy-five (do all I could) +Simmons had drawn a yard to the good.</p> + +<p>A yell went up from the crowd. It made him think he had me beat. But had +he? His easy wins had taught a fatal fault of slowing at the finish. The +soft ground helped it, and the yell that gave him a false confidence +drove me mad with glory. I let out the last link in me, and passing like +a shot, broke the tape, a clear winner by a yard.</p> + +<p>There was no mistake: Hacking's "Unknown" had won.</p> + +<p>I ran much farther over the finish than did Simmons, and when I worked +my way to the referee through the crowd, the decision was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> announced, +and my opponent was like a fiend. He threatened the referee, and swore +he would break the neck of the d—— "ringer" with the spiked shoes.</p> + +<p>Although I was not looking for trouble, I should not have hesitated to +show him I knew another game beside running if he had laid a hand on me. +Thanks to his friends' persuasion, with some physical force added, he +was pulled away and through the crowd.</p> + +<p>This last had now become quite friendly to me, having gone from +curiosity to admiration for the man who could beat the "Chipper" even. +Some shook my hand, others patted me on the back, and many suggested an +adjournment to the bar with unlimited liquid refreshment as the "proper +medicine for a good winner."</p> + +<p>They took my declining in good part, and soon Hacking forced his way to +me, and tearing me from my admirers, gave me a chance to retire to my +room.</p> + +<p>I found Jennie at the top of the stairs, with tears of joy in her eyes, +and a bit hysterical from excitement. Greatly to my surprise (and her +own as well, when she realized what she had done), she threw both arms +round my neck, and kissed me twice before she came to herself. Then +there was a bright blush, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> quick turn, the rustle of skirts, and the +slam of the door.</p> + +<p>I was glad enough to reach the solitude of my room, where from the +window I saw Simmons bundled into the "Boston Belle" by a half-dozen +dejected supporters, and with none to do him honor among the many.</p> + +<p>"<i>Le roi est mort, vive le roi</i>," is as true on the cinder-path as in +the great world outside.</p> + +<p>But as I sat in my room, a winner, with the cheers still echoing in my +ears, and good money awaiting me, it was a sad heart that beat under my +jersey.</p> + +<p>For the "red pottage of Esau" I had sold my birthright.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="THE_HOLLOW_HAMMER" id="THE_HOLLOW_HAMMER"></a> +<img src="images/ill_004.jpg" width="600" height="168" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>It was on a June day back in the late "sixties" that I first saw Angus +MacLeod, the hero of my story of "The Hollow Hammer."</p> + +<p>I had given a boxing-lesson to a little jeweller in South Boston who was +burdened with a pugilistic ambition, and was walking leisurely homeward, +enjoying the fine weather and the exercise in the open air. As I +sauntered along at an easy pace, with my eyes wandering here and there, +something in the day or the neighborhood reminded me of the "Old +Country," and particularly the ancient town of Bury. I think it must +have been the sight of the iron-foundry down the street, with the flames +streaming from its chimneys.</p> + +<p>I know I was harking back to almost forgotten scenes, and old +acquaintances who had doubtless long ago forgotten me (excepting one, +perhaps), when a chorus of rough voices brought me to myself with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +start. The noise came from behind the high fence which shut in the +iron-works yard, and I could not make out what it meant until I reached +the open gate and looked in.</p> + +<p>It was the noon hour, and there were a lot of men lounging about, eating +from their tin pails, smoking short black pipes, and doing whatever else +they fancied. The yard was as level and smooth as a tennis-court, but +without the least sign of turf except along the fence and fringing the +foundation-stones of the foundry building.</p> + +<p>The noise came from a crowd of workmen, clustered together not far from +the huge door. A row of them sat on the ground with their backs against +the wall, and there were a dozen or more standing together in a bunch. +These were mostly the younger men, who, not content with five hours' +work since sunrise, were having a friendly test of strength in putting +the shot.</p> + +<p>They were using for the purpose an old cannon-ball, which must have +weighed a bit over the sixteen pounds by the size of it.</p> + +<p>Cannon-balls were plenty in those days, for the war was not many years +over.</p> + +<p>Now, there is always something interesting to me in the sport of a lot +of workingmen. They take a bit of a lark with all the more heartiness +because they do not have too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> many of them. Then, again, this +shot-putting contest was for the pure love of the game, and without the +selfish incentives of money, prize, or glory.</p> + +<p>There was a running fire of good-natured chaff all the time, and at each +"put," good, bad, or indifferent, the contestant was guyed unmercifully +for his style or distance. Failing this, some old personality was raked +up, the allusion to which brought out no end of laughter and applause.</p> + +<p>It was an interesting scene, with plenty of variety and color. The men +were mostly big, brawny fellows, with sleeveless flannel shirts of red, +blue, or gray, open at the breast; and grime or rust could not hide the +splendid development of arms, chests, and shoulders.</p> + +<p>The sun was warm and bright, and here and there a tin pail would catch +the light, and shine as clear, I warrant, as ever the shield of a good +knight, back in the old days when there were sterner sports than tossing +an iron shot. Many a good man could I see, but at the game they were +trying they had much to learn. 'Twas a case of "bull beef," and little +more.</p> + +<p>I watched them a few minutes, but was about to move on when there +appeared at the door of the foundry a young fellow who caught my eye at +once.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was stripped to the waist, fresh from a struggle with the stubborn +iron, and his body was drenched and shining with sweat. His arms and +shoulders were round and firm; but there was no abnormal development, or +sign of a bound muscle, and he stood with an ease that proved good legs +under him, though hidden by the thick corduroys. His hair was light and +curly, and his face was smooth and clean cut.</p> + +<p>Many bigger and some stronger men have I seen, but none whose +proportions were so perfect.</p> + +<p>Among the few remembrances of my books is that dialogue of Plato which +describes the sensations of Socrates at first seeing the beautiful +youth, Charmides. Well (may Socrates forgive me the comparison), I had +the same feeling when I first looked at Angus MacLeod on that June day, +back in the "sixties." Barring the difference in costume, and the grime +which a little water would remove, I believe they were alike as two +peas.</p> + +<p>The lad (he looked scarcely twenty years of age for all his development) +stood a moment or two in the doorway, watching with an amused smile a +big fellow put the shot a scant twenty feet, after an enormous amount of +effort. Then he was noticed by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> some one who called out, "Come here, +Mac, you porridge-eater, and show them how to do it."</p> + +<p>At this he laughed, shook his head, and would not budge. But the call +was taken up by others, with a lot of chaff, like, "The lad's bashful," +"A Scotch puddler's always shy except on pay-day," and a plenty more +like it.</p> + +<p>At last a young fellow in a blue jersey, and an old chap, the color and +material of whose shirt were alike doubtful, took each an arm, and led +him, holding back a bit and laughing, to the circle within which the +shot lay.</p> + +<p>He picked it up, dropped it while he drew his narrow belt a hole or two +tighter, and then picked it up again. He rolled it a bit in his hand, +raised it two or three times from his shoulder high above his head, +balanced a moment on his right leg, with the left lifted, and then, with +that easy wrist and hand motion, and that little "flick" at the end, he +sent the old cannon-ball a good two yards farther than any who had +tried.</p> + +<p>It was a right good "put," though not a phenomenal one, and hardly a +fault could I find with the style, barring a little failure to get the +full turn of the body.</p> + +<p>Almost as soon as the shot landed, and before the mingled applause and +good-natured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> chaffing were over, he left them with a parting joke, and +disappeared through the door, going back to his waiting furnace. This +was my first sight of Angus MacLeod.</p> + +<p>I looked him up a few days later, got acquainted easily, and in fact hit +it off right well with him from the beginning. I was just enough older +for him to look up to me a bit in other matters beside athletics, and on +this last subject he gave me credit for possessing all the knowledge in +the market. I learned that he had been in this country some four years, +that he lived with an uncle, one of the pillars of a Scotch Presbyterian +church, and that Angus was himself a churchman, devout and regular in +his habits.</p> + +<p>He had taken to athletics, with no other preparation than the school-boy +sports of old Aberdeen, making a specialty of the "shot-put" and +"hammer-throw."</p> + +<p>This last was his favorite sport, and by dint of regular practice in an +open lot back of his house he was able to show about ninety feet as a +best performance. He improved this at once under my instruction, working +up to a regular hundred feet in a couple of weeks. This pleased him very +much, and he took kindly to my suggestion that he enter some open +competition, and see what he could do in a contest.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>Indeed, he was quite confident that he could give a good showing, making +much of the fact that the MacLeods had been noted for their strength for +centuries. Many stories he told me of old John M'Dhoil-vic-Huishdon, +from whom he claimed to have descended. This John was the head of the +MacLeods of Lewis. He lived in the days of James VI., and, though a man +of small stature, was of matchless strength. Some of the tales, I +confess, I should have doubted, had not Angus been both a Scotchman and +a church member of good standing.</p> + +<p>It was quite easy for us to choose an opportunity for Mac's début, as +there were some very convenient sports only a few weeks ahead.</p> + +<p>These games, Scotch and otherwise, were the principal attraction at an +annual excursion of Caledonian societies, comprising all those within a +radius of one hundred miles of Boston.</p> + +<p>Purses were small, but the enthusiasm great; and many a canny Scot, +under the influence of a "wee drappie," would back an impossible winner +for all his pockets might hold.</p> + +<p>These were the good old days of Duncan Ross and Captain Daily, and at +one of these Caledonian excursions there afterward occurred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> that +never-to-be-forgotten wrestling bout on the deck of a boat moored in the +lake. So fierce was the struggle that the men worked overboard, and +neither being willing to break hold, they were well filled with water, +and in fact half-drowned before they separated.</p> + +<p>Angus belonged to one of the Boston clans, and naturally chose these +Caledonian games for his first appearance, working hard, training +faithfully, and saying nothing, for a very quiet chap was Mac. If all +the men I have trained had been as easy to handle as MacLeod, I should +have one or two less gray hairs than I now possess. Unfortunately, +church members are not in as large a percentage as I would wish on the +cinder-path.</p> + +<p>Now, I had at first no intention of pulling a dollar out of the affair, +except my regular fee for training. Even this I at first declined, +wishing to help my friend purely out of friendship. Mac would not have +it, however, and as his pay was high, I allowed him to have his way.</p> + +<p>I had now been making a business of training athletes for nearly a year, +getting a good living out of it, and had at the beginning a nice little +nest-egg in the bank, ready for a rainy day.</p> + +<p>Exactly how this was accumulated I do not care to say. These tales are +in no sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> confessions, and I shall avoid the "strutting I" as much as +possible.</p> + +<p>After my defeat of "Chipper" Simmons, at Hacking's Brighton track, there +were a couple of years passed not at all to my liking, though profitably +enough for one of small ideas. I took on matches wherever they promised +a dollar. I ran everybody, and every distance, from a fifty-yard dash to +a mile run, and almost invariably won, largely because of the pains I +took with myself, and my careful training. I learned all the tricks of +the trade, gave close finishes always, did an artistic "fainting act," +and made myself a subject of regretful, not to say painful, remembrance +to a large part of the sporting fraternity.</p> + +<p>They stood it all right for a couple of years, but the summer before I +met MacLeod I suddenly discovered I had about squeezed the orange dry. +They had, very naturally, grown more and more shy of me, until it had +become impossible to obtain a match, except under prohibitive +conditions. I tried giving good men eight yards in the "hundred" and one +hundred yards in the mile for a while, but discovered it was a hard +business, with nothing in it. My only profit, as far as I could see, was +to run crooked, and fake a race or two, but at this, though not +over-nice, I drew the line.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was willing to underrate my powers, and fool the fancy on my +condition; to win by a scant yard with pretended effort, in order to +pull on my opponent to another race; but to back him on the sly and lie +down, to pull money from my friends, I could not. A gentleman I might +not be, but honest I would be still. Indeed, despite the "winning way" I +had, my reputation was of the best as a rare, good runner, as a square +man who gave his backers a straight run for their money, and as the most +knowing man in the States concerning work and training for the +cinder-path.</p> + +<p>On this last I made up my mind to trade. I announced my absolute +retirement as a contestant, and my intention to make a business of +training and handling others.</p> + +<p>My prices startled them a bit at the beginning, but after I had made a +few winners out of almost impossible timber, I was kept fairly well +occupied. When the winter put a stop to my out-of-doors work, I became +instructor in a gymnasium, and gave lessons in boxing and fencing. I +even prepared one man for a ring contest, which he won, thanks to his +perfect condition, after acting as a chopping-block to a better boxer +for a couple of hours, this affair satisfying me at once and forever +with the prize ring.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the coming of the spring I found my book very well filled, and would +by June have been quite content to have trained Mac with no recompense +whatever.</p> + +<p>Yet I had no objections to make money from others, and discovered a very +fair opportunity, as I thought, about two weeks before the games. I then +received a bit of information that there was a dark horse grooming for +the hammer throw, in the person of an Irishman by the name of Duffy. He +was an enormous fellow, as strong as an ox, could do nearly one hundred +feet, and the tip made him a sure winner.</p> + +<p>Now, I was very confident I knew better, though ninety feet, in those +days, was phenomenal for an amateur, and a throw of one hundred had not +been made in any previous contest. The best of the news was kept for the +last, and that was that Duffy had plenty of friends with good money to +back him.</p> + +<p>I figured at once that MacLeod could just about call the trick, that +being a smaller man would help the odds, and that, properly managed, +there was a pretty penny in it.</p> + +<p>Mac was now doing from one hundred to one hundred and five in the most +consistent manner, and I made up my mind to plunge on him a bit, keeping +quiet so that Duffy's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> friends might show their hands first. This was +easy enough, for Mac did all his work after supper in the vacant lot +back of his house, where no one could pull a tape over his throws. It +was prudent, also, for MacLeod had very rigid ideas about betting +(gambling he called it), and would undoubtedly have protested, if he had +not declined to show at all.</p> + +<p>Duffy's friends began very cautiously with small figures, and I took all +that showed through a third party. When one hundred dollars was promptly +covered, however, they made up their minds there was something else +good, and became a bit shy.</p> + +<p>I let them alone until the evening before the excursion, when I sallied +into the Duffy neighborhood, and at one to two offered to produce a man +weighing under one hundred and seventy pounds who would win against all. +Now, a hammer-thrower of this weight is rare, and I found all the money +I cared to cover. Indeed, I exceeded my limit a trifle. Then I wandered +over to Mac's field, pulled the tape over his throw of one hundred and +eight, and went home and to sleep, for not a grain of anxiety had I over +the result. I doubt if I should have given five per cent. to be insured +a winner.</p> + +<p>The day dawned, fine and hot. We went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> down from Boston a good three +hundred strong, men, women, and children, the last turning out a whole +clan by themselves. There were bagpipes squealing, babies crying, and a +Babel of rough Scotch tongues. Tartans were displayed in all the colors +of the rainbow. Some were content to show only a tie, ribbon, or shawl, +but a fair percentage were in full Highland costume, and far from +comfortable many of them looked.</p> + +<p>The dress is wonderfully picturesque, and nothing is more becoming to an +athletic man with straight legs and strong brown knees. But for a petty +tradesman with legs like pipe-stems, knock-kneed, and ghastly white it +is particularly trying, and many of the gallant Scots looked as if they +would like to don the protecting "breeks" to which they had become +accustomed.</p> + +<p>We all piled into the hot and dusty cars, and after an hour and a half +were glad to get a breath of fresh air as we steamed down the bay.</p> + +<p>Indeed, when we reached the "Point," a little before noon, I was loath +to go ashore, for the trees on a ridge of land cut off the wind, and the +place was like a furnace.</p> + +<p>Nothing looked comfortable but a pair of bronze lions who flanked the +roadway to the hotel, and had they been alive I am sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> they would have +found the day altogether too tropical.</p> + +<p>I could see the crowds flocking around the swings, merry-go-rounds, and +the monkey cage, and there was a motley crowd in hired bathing-suits +enjoying a dip in the salt water. Of these last only was I in the least +envious.</p> + +<p>The clans, immediately upon landing, formed in procession, and marched +off in the broiling sun, a half-dozen pipers playing "The Campbells are +coming" as loudly as possible, skirling like so many pigs under a gate.</p> + +<p>The most conspicuous figure was an old fellow who blew as if his life +depended on the effort, and until I feared he would burst his bagpipe if +he did not rupture a blood-vessel first.</p> + +<p>He seemed to feel that the world was looking at him, and he was well +conscious of its admiration. He was big-boned, loose-jointed, and so +sandy that it was a riddle to guess his age. His shoulders were badly +rounded, but he straightened up every few seconds in an abortive effort +to appear erect on this occasion, if never again. He was clad in full +Highland costume, even to dirk and claymore,—a rather unusual +accompaniment, and dangerous as well, for a Scot on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> merry-making +where Scotch whiskey and Scotch ale mingle freely. He wore the MacNab +tartan, and the kilt looked as if it had been slept in, all twisted and +wrinkled.</p> + +<p>As the clans marched up the hill and between the lions, I could see the +bright red tartans of the Frasers, the black and green of the Gordons, +and the beautiful parti-colors of the Stewarts. There were many others, +all showing bright in the sun; and there was a lift to the heels of the +marchers which nothing could have caused but the shrill notes of the +bagpipes. Indeed, they were enough to start the sluggish blood in my +veins, though I suppose my ancestors had long years ago heard the same +sounds with resentment, as the Scots swarmed over the border. As a +parlor instrument I should admit it had its superiors, but for strong +men going to battle I doubt if it has its equal.</p> + +<p>There were all kinds of men in the crowd, from the gray-haired veteran +to the little fellow, born on American soil, who had never seen the +tartan kilts except on a holiday. There were a number of contestants in +the line, with strong, athletic figures, but not one could compare with +Angus, in the yellow and black of the MacLeods, as he marched, almost +the last. I saw the girls had their eyes on him, though Mac neither +noticed nor cared,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> for he thought them "kittle cattle," and was much +fonder of handling hammer and shot.</p> + +<p>I had seen little of Angus since the start, for he was a clan officer +and had many duties, but found him, to my surprise, not in the least +nervous, and quite confident of winning. Did not old John +M'Dhoil-vic-Huishdon outclass all competitors in the old days, and was +not Angus MacLeod a lineal descendant, to whom had come the family +strength?</p> + +<p>He said he had heard that there had been considerable money bet on him +to win, which he deplored, and that he would not have gone into the +thing at all had he foreseen it. I told him he was very foolish, for a +man might bet how long a Sunday sermon would last, and that if he did +not risk anything himself, not to trouble himself about others. Though +unable to argue, he shook his head, and was, I saw, uneasy, but I had no +fear of his drawing out at this late day.</p> + +<p>When the crowd disappeared, I went to the hotel, and engaged a quiet +room, on the cool side of the house, where Angus joined me as soon as +the procession broke ranks.</p> + +<p>I made him lie down a little while, gave him a sponge and rub-down, and +after a good lunch, such as a man should eat who expects soon to call +upon the best powers of his body, he pronounced himself feeling strong +enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> to throw the hammer into the bay. We could see the crowd, +contestants and all, file into the long dining-rooms, where "clam-bakes" +were served. A very nice lunch for an excursionist, but about the most +awful diet possible for an athlete, particularly if he gorge himself in +a laudable ambition to get the full value of his fifty cents.</p> + +<p>We waited until it was after two o'clock, and found the games already +started when we arrived at the place called in compliment the "athletic +grounds." It was simply an enclosure roped off from an open field; track +there was none, except as the feet of contestants had worn off the turf +and the sun had baked the surface hard. There were no seats, and we +found our way with some difficulty through the spectators, who crowded a +dozen deep all the way round, and tested the strength of the rope and +the firmness of the wooden posts through which it was drawn. An eager, +hot, and perspiring crowd it was, jostling, pushing, and elbowing, and +the last half-dozen rows might as well have been in the Orkneys, as far +as seeing the sports was concerned. As usual the tall and strong were in +front, and the short and weak were behind.</p> + +<p>We found the enclosure full of contestants and their friends, the latter +an insupportable nuisance, in everybody's way, not excepting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> their own. +We saw Duffy standing with a little knot of henchmen, and they gave Mac +a critical glance as he walked by my side. It had leaked out in some way +who my man was, and the interest in him was great. They knew I was not +in the habit of taking up anything unless it was good, and some of Mac's +friends from the foundry had got a day off, with their last pay +envelopes with them.</p> + +<p>All the officials and two-thirds of the crowd were Caledonians, but the +contests were nearly all open, and there was a large number of other +nationalities represented, particularly the Irish.</p> + +<p>Of system there was next to none, changes were frequent, and orders +given and countermanded in the same breath. The noise was deafening and +the heat insupportable. The dust was like a good Scotch snuff as far as +sneezing properties were concerned, and of about the same color.</p> + +<p>We were just in time to see the "fat men's race," in which the +contestants ran themselves almost into apoplexies. I am sure some of +these mountains of flesh must have permanently injured themselves, and +endangered their lives by their exertions.</p> + +<p>I do not pretend to remember all the contests that followed, but there +were opportunities for every one, man, woman, and child,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> old or young, +to distinguish himself. Beside the regular sprints, runs, jumps, and +weight contests, there were "sack," "wheelbarrow," "potato," and +"three-legged" races, all opportunities for great laughter and applause.</p> + +<p>I ordered Mac back to the hotel when we learned that the "hammer-throw" +was the very last event, and only sent for him when the afternoon had +nearly dragged itself out.</p> + +<p>The last casts were then being made at "tossing the caber," which, being +the most characteristic Caledonian game of all, had a most formidable +list. Indeed, Angus was much disappointed that he had not entered, in +which feeling I did not at all join, for I wanted him to save all his +strength.</p> + +<p>I remember now a little bandy-legged fellow in a crazy-looking kilt who +struggled with the heavy log, which he could scarcely lift, let alone +toss. He turned to me after a superhuman effort, his face aglow with +pride and exertion, and remarked breathlessly, "Rinnin's weel eneugh for +laddies; thot's the sport of a mon."</p> + +<p>The "hammer-throw" had been left for the last, as I was informed, +because none would leave until it was over, thus ensuring a full +attendance until the end. The reason the "hammer-throw" was so popular +was because there was more money on it than all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> the other events +combined, also because of the race feeling excited by the nationalities +of the two most-favored contestants.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a third of the spectators were Irish, and being more aggressive +and outspoken, were almost as much in evidence as the Scotch themselves. +Indeed, the applause when an Irishman won (and they had more than their +proportion of firsts that day) was as loud as at the victory of a Scot.</p> + +<p>In the "hammer-throw" there were a scant half-dozen entries, the reputed +prowess of Duffy and MacLeod disheartening the less ambitious. I was +surprised to see among them old Sandy MacNab, the piper, but learned +that he had been a famous man with the weights, and had pulled off the +event here only last year. Indeed, for all his age (and more than twenty +was he) he was a good man yet despite his cadaverous appearance. He had +for years pulled money out of these Caledonian games, although the +amount of his winnings had diminished with his increasing years.</p> + +<p>To-day he had backed himself to win the "Old Men's Race," and won +easily, but unfortunately stood to lose all he had made, and more too, +in the "hammer-throw."</p> + +<p>In making his book to get second or better, he thought he had been +remarkably conservative,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> but receiving startling information concerning +Duffy and Mac when it was too late, had found it impossible to hedge. He +went into the contest expecting to lose, but resolved to make a try for +his money all the same. His contortions were wonderful, and convulsed +the crowd every time he threw, although he was serious enough, and +succeeded in getting into the finals with nearly ninety feet.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget how the old fellow threw down his bonnet in the +dust, spit on his hands, and braced himself for his first trial. There +was a little crowd around the measurer, who stood a good one hundred and +twenty feet away. These MacNab noticed just before he threw, and +insisted that they "gang awa oot o' dainger" before he would make his +try, although there was just as great chance of his hitting the +flag-staff of the hotel.</p> + +<p>After he had finished his dialogue with the crowd, in which he held his +own, and more, he grasped the handle again with his long, bony fingers. +At first swinging very slowly, then faster and faster, until with a +double twist that made his kilt stand out like a ballet-dancer's skirt +about his long, knee-kissing legs, he gave a grunt and a gasp, and let +go. He watched the hammer through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> the air with bulging eyes, and when +it landed, ran after, and argued with the measurer over an extra +half-inch in a maddening fashion. Sandy was a privileged character, +however, and had a roar of applause every time he tried.</p> + +<p>When MacLeod came up for his first throw, he caught the crowd +immediately, so handsome and modest was he. He found particular favor +with the "ladies," and not alone did I hear "Eh, but he's a braw +laddie," but one little Irish girl, close to the ropes, with blue eyes +and the proverbial smudge under them, set an example of cosmopolitan +freedom by clapping violently.</p> + +<p>Yes, a right well-looking man was MacLeod that day, as he twisted his +fingers round the hammer-handle and prepared to throw. He had a fair, +open face, well colored by the sun; indeed, darker was it than the hair +that curled round his forehead. His arms and shoulders were splendidly +developed, and his legs brown, and corded like a distance runner's. So +well-proportioned was he that he did not look the twelve stone which he +really weighed, and there were murmurs of applause when he threw the +hammer ninety-eight feet in his first trial, Duffy having shown but +ninety-six just before him. Neither bettered in their second attempts, +but when Duffy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> sent the hammer over ninety-nine feet in his third, +putting into the effort all the enormous strength of which he was +master, a yell went up from his well-wishers which did his heart good, +and he came as near smiling as was possible for so surly a fellow. There +are no supporters on earth like an Irish crowd; they are hopeful to the +last, and many an event has an Irishman won, under the inspiration of +the cheers of his adherents.</p> + +<p>Less loud, though not less hearty, was the applause when Mac sent the +hammer one hundred and one and a fraction, in the faultless style I had +taught him. Not the equal of Duffy in strength (for the Irishman was +almost a giant in height and girth), he knew how to use all he had to +the best advantage, and he was working himself slowly up to his best +effort to follow.</p> + +<p>As I have already said, MacLeod, Duffy, and MacNab were left in the +finals. Duffy was grave and quiet when he made the first of his last +three throws, and grew graver yet when the measurer gave him less than +before, and while Sandy was doing his contortion act, twisting, jumping, +and breathing hard, like a man possessed, he had a conference with two +of his principal backers who stood by themselves apart.</p> + +<p>I was feeling very comfortable, for Duffy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> I was sure, had done all he +was capable of; and when Mac did one hundred and four I decided I was on +"Easy Street," and began to count my earnings. All the time I kept my +eyes about me, and was surprised to see the look of confidence with +which the Irishman came up for his next to last turn. He planted his +feet firmly, swung his huge arms round his head until he grew black in +the face, and then a last effort, and the hammer flew through the air.</p> + +<p>I knew the moment it left his hand that it would best any throw made, +but I was astounded when the measurer announced over one hundred and +eleven. Where was my money? I could not believe it possible, for I had +sure information that Duffy had never quite covered one hundred feet, +and while Mac should do his one hundred and eight or a trifle better, I +did not believe he could make the one hundred and eleven to save his +life.</p> + +<p>It was while Angus was making his next to last throw that a sudden +suspicion came to me. I was probably wrong, but my money was in danger, +and no chance would I throw away to save it. This time Mac was dead in +earnest, and getting his strength in just right threw only an inch short +of one hundred and ten. I waited until Duffy was about to make his last, +and then walked down just in time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to be by the side of the measurer +when the hammer landed. I saw the tape, it was over one hundred and +twelve; and the yell that followed the announcement was enough to madden +one who stood to lose a half-year's earnings.</p> + +<p>I picked the hammer up, and tested it carefully, balancing it in my +hand, and as I held it there came to me a grain of hope. Was it light, +or was I led astray by my wish? I had seen it weighed by the judge; the +head looked full size, and the handle all right. In those days the +handles were of wood weighing about a pound, and made the total +seventeen pounds or close to it. I had carried the hammer half-way back, +when Mac came to me and said, his eyes black with determination, "'Tis +my last chance, but I'll beat him yet." I gave him no answer, but walked +on until Duffy saw me. I was testing his hammer in my hand, doubtful +whether or not to ask for a reweighing, when I caught his eye, and +decided.</p> + +<p>MacNab saw me too, discovering something queer about my face, and he and +Duffy were at my side together, the latter holding out his hand to take +the hammer, his face flushed and his voice husky, as he asked "What in +h——" I was trying to do. MacNab said something, just what it was I do +not know, but it showed his disposition to support<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> me, for he was on +the anxious seat as well as myself.</p> + +<p>To Duffy's demand I answered as calmly as possible, "I believe this +hammer under weight, and ask for a reweighing," holding it behind me +meanwhile. At this there was a "hurly-burly" at once, Duffy's friends +surrounding me, and had it not been for MacNab's support I should have +been in difficulties. The old man did not know what fear was; no one +dared lay a hand on him, because of his popularity with the crowd, and +he drowned all other voices with his shrill pipings.</p> + +<p>He demanded a reweighing much more forcibly than I. "I winna gie it +'tell the weght iss weghted. I winna, na, I winna," he yelled again and +again, like a broken-winded bagpipe for all the world.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fraser, the judge, and a very fair man, saw that he must do +something, and silenced the uproar, although old Sandy kept up a +muttering all the time. "You saw me weigh the hammer," said he, looking +at me. "I called it seventeen pounds one ounce, and you made no +protest."—"I do not cast any reflections on you," I answered, "but this +hammer which has just been thrown is certainly not a sixteen-pound +hammer. I can prove my statement, and ask that all throws with it be +disallowed." Then MacNab, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> stood between me and Duffy, with one hand +on the handle, set up such an infernal din that Fraser immediately +consented, and I handed him the hammer. At this Duffy changed his tune, +and proposed to withdraw, saying he would not have any dirty Englishman +nor sneaking Scotchman doubt his word. He shook his huge fist in +Fraser's face and demanded the immediate return of his property. In this +he made a mistake, for the judge was as full of fire as a little Scotch +terrier, and he promptly walked to the scales and laid the hammer on +them.</p> + +<p>Then there was a dead silence. MacLeod came to my side, for the lad had +not spoken a word since the row began; not that he lacked pluck, but he +had a mortal antipathy to a windy dispute, and knew I was fully +competent to protect his interests. The weight was on the +seventeen-pound mark, but the hammer did not lift it, and I saw by the +eager faces that the crowd was becoming suspicious. The little judge +pushed the weight to sixteen pounds, and still the beam hung; and only +at fifteen-eight did it rise. Everybody looked at Duffy's flushed face, +and Fraser demanded an explanation, though there did not seem to be much +that could be said.</p> + +<p>The tall Irishman hemmed and hawed a bit, and then said huskily, "Faith, +I think it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> must have struck a stone and knocked off a piece." Despite +our seriousness, this ingenious explanation was too much for us, and the +whole crowd laughed until it could laugh no more, Duffy sneaking off in +the confusion.</p> + +<p>Old man MacNab became almost delirious in his joy at saving his money in +this miraculous way, for Duffy's disqualification put the lank Scott +second; and after he had loaded me with acknowledgments, he left, with +the laudable ambition of getting outside all the whiskey on the +premises. The last I saw of him, his long legs were swinging gayly to +the notes of the Highland fling, with a fair prospect of winning the +prize.</p> + +<p>As the crowd flocked back to the hotel, Fraser thanked me for my +firmness which had led to the discovery of the fraud, and I declined to +accept any, as I had only watched my money. I did agree to take the +light hammer, and he gave it to me together with another which had been +picked up from underneath the feet of the crowd.</p> + +<p>On the way home MacLeod and myself compared them carefully, and were +greatly puzzled. They were almost identical; the size and form of the +heads, the turn of the handles, and the initials "P. D." burned into the +ends were alike in both. We could not understand where the difference in +the weights<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> came in, until we arrived at my rooms. Here I knocked out +the handle of the light hammer, and found the centre of the head +hollowed out in a most artistic manner, and the mystery was solved. I +have no doubt but that Duffy did not use this until he was forced to do +so, and that he threw the full-weight hammer which Fraser tested for the +first four trials. Only when he was sure that MacLeod, "the little +Scottie," was a better man, and his (Duffy's) money was as good as gone, +did he fall back on the artistic reproduction, which could have been +easily handed to him by a friend in the crowd.</p> + +<p>I confess I made a very pretty penny out of this transaction, and it was +all the more welcome because of the fright I had been in over it. Poor +Mac was not so fortunate, for although he positively declined to take a +penny from me, he was given credit at the church for having gambled +disgracefully, and was near being expelled for it.</p> + +<p>If this should seem at all an improbable tale, I will assure you that +much the same incident occurred among our gentlemanly friends, the +college athletes, at a comparatively recent date, although it was kept +quiet in deference to somebody's feelings, and not exploited as was the +"hollow hammer" back in the late "sixties."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="HIS_NAME_IS_MUD" id="HIS_NAME_IS_MUD"></a> +<img src="images/ill_005.jpg" width="600" height="213" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>There is always a "post mortem" atmosphere about Fall track athletics.</p> + +<p>Baseball shows a bit more life, for now the ambitious Freshman receives +his "trying out" and struggles valiantly to catch the critical eye of +the Captain, in search of new material for the "Nine."</p> + +<p>The only "real thing" is football, which reigns supreme until +Thanksgiving Day dethrones him.</p> + +<p>This period is the most trying one of all the year to a trainer. One +after another of his men on whom he depends for points on field and +track are drafted for the "gridiron," until there is scarcely one left +except the second-raters, whom he would gladly spare. Try to imagine my +feelings as I watch a football game from the side lines, when Hopkins, +my only ten one-fifth man is picked out of the bottom of a "scrimmage" +with one of his precious legs twisted, or Baily retires with a +dislocated shoulder,—Baily, who alone can be depended upon for any +distance with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> "shot." Shaw pulls his sweater over his head and +takes Hopkins' place at "half back," Marlowe drops his blanket and fills +the gap at "tackle" caused by Baily's retirement, and the game goes on +just as before. No one seems to care much, but I think of the coming +Spring and wonder what kind of a showing we are destined to make.</p> + +<p>I had seen a short practice game between the second and third elevens, +and had watched a few men listlessly circling the track, until the +gathering dusk warned me that it was time for dinner. I stopped a moment +at "Conner's" to arrange for some shoes for the team, and was half-way +across the square when I saw ahead of me, and in the middle of the +street, quite a little crowd, from the centre of which came a confused +jumble of barks, growls, yelps, and howls, the sure sign of a canine +disagreement. Now, of course, I did not countenance any such low sport +as a battle between two street curs, but I elbowed my way through, as I +am afraid most men would have done, and I am not quite sure that my +motive was wholly the separation of the combatants.</p> + +<p>I found them to be a very large and very good-natured St. Bernard, not +quite full grown, and a very small and intensely angry terrier, weighing +about as much as his opponent's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> left leg. Indeed it was not, strictly +speaking, a fight at all, if it takes more than one to make a fight, +which is I believe an accepted axiom. The terrier, a mixture of hair, +mud, and impotent rage, would scramble over the wet pavement and make a +desperate spring at the big St. Bernard's throat, either to be avoided +by a lift of the head or a turn of the body, and the little fellow would +roll over and over, then gather himself up and attack his good-natured +foe again with renewed virulence.</p> + +<p>It was really very funny, for neither of them was getting hurt, and when +at last the big fellow, in sheer desperation, placed his paw on his +assailant and held him down struggling vainly, it caused a hearty laugh +from all the crowd. The St. Bernard looked doubtfully at us, very much +as if to say, "Is not this a very awkward position for a gentleman to +find himself in?" and at last, seeing a gap in the crowd, he suddenly +lifted his paw and tried to make good his escape. In this he nearly +succeeded, but was not quite quick enough, for his crazy little +assailant caught him by the first joint of his hind leg, and buried his +sharp little teeth deep in the cartilages. This was really too much for +the big fellow's temper, already sadly tried, and turning with a howl of +pain, he seized his vicious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> little enemy in his big jaws, shook him a +second or two fiercely, and then dropped him on the pavement. It was all +over before we could interfere, and the big fellow's anger passed as +quickly as it came.</p> + +<p>He saw at once that something was wrong, for the ragged little body lay +on its side entirely motionless, with the exception of a spasmodic +twitching of the legs. He sniffed at him carefully, then gave us a look +of reproach, at which I confess I felt ashamed, and trotted sadly away.</p> + +<p>It was just at this moment that a number of the football men appeared, +led by big Shack Sawyer, who quickly elbowed his way to the inner circle +by my side, demanding "What's the row, Professor?"</p> + +<p>"Only a little dog fight," I answered, a bit shocked at the sudden +transformation from comedy to tragedy.</p> + +<p>"It looks more like a dog funeral than a dog fight," spoke up Seever, +who was as usual at Shack's elbow.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what his name is?" inquired an hysterical woman with a +falsetto voice, who had appeared from I know not where, to ask this +particularly interesting question.</p> + +<p>"The dog's name!" exclaimed Shack; "his name is 'Mud,' I guess, and no +mistake." At which there was a half-hearted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> laugh, for the silent +little chap on the pavement was a pathetic sight indeed. Somebody said, +"Throw some water on him," and a bareheaded boy with a dinner-pail in +his hand filled it at a horse-trough close by, and Shack took it and +threw half its contents on the terrier.</p> + +<p>No sooner had the water struck him than he gave a sneeze, like the +hunchback in the "Arabian Nights" who had the unfortunate experience +with the fish-bone, struggled to his feet, and after a somewhat unsteady +circuit of the crowd in a vain effort to find his late antagonist, +decided he had put him to flight, and began to bark triumphantly. +Indeed, the "dying gladiator" showed every sign of being as good as new, +with the exception of a little patch of red at his throat and a very +muddy and bedraggled coat.</p> + +<p>He went from one to another, wagging his stump of a tail frantically; +and when the crowd broke up he dropped in at Sawyer's heels as if he had +always belonged there. Shack allowed him to follow him home, and after a +somewhat perfunctory effort to find an owner, he became Shack's dog from +this time on, and a very lucky dog he was.</p> + +<p>When "Mud," for Shack's random christening proved permanent, was treated +to the twin luxuries of a bath and a comb, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> showed quite an +attractive personality. That his coat of arms bore the "bar sinister," +there was not the least doubt. His master declared there was no "blot on +his scutcheon," and that he was a pure-blooded, wire-haired fox terrier; +but his legs were too short, and his hair both too long and too silky +for any such claim. Seever made out an imaginary pedigree for him, in +which many canine aristocrats of different breeds appeared; but Marlowe +declared he certainly must have numbered somewhere among his ancestors a +very plebeian New England woodchuck.</p> + +<p>Shack took a deal of chaffing over his "high-bred dog," but clung to him +nevertheless, and Mud sprang into instantaneous popularity with the +whole college. He had indeed a number of very valuable qualities, the +most important of which was an undaunted courage. He was afraid of +nothing that walked on four legs, or two either, for that matter. A dog +of his own size or smaller he treated with an easy condescension. He +looked upon anything larger as an enemy, and a very big dog he +considered a personal insult, no matter how he behaved. I am inclined to +think that the root of his anger was simply jealousy of superior inches. +Whatever the motive was, however, Shack was kept busy pulling him out of +the jaws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> of bigger dogs whenever he took him for an airing.</p> + +<p>Mud could certainly not claim to be "no respecter of persons," for he +had a very different manner with which to treat the gentleman from that +he gave the laboring man. He was suspicious of the latter, even in his +Sunday broadcloth, and when he met him clad in overalls and jumper he +greeted him with a canine fusillade that was irrepressible. For rags and +dirt, despite his very questionable past and decidedly suggestive name, +Mud had a great antipathy. The sign "No admittance to beggars and +pedlers," which decorated the lower hall, was quite unnecessary after +Mud became a tenant, for he could pick these gentry out, no matter how +skilfully disguised, and indeed showed qualities which would have made +him invaluable in Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>He was forever on the move, and could tire out the most persistent +visitor in any sort of a game. Mud's favorite was a sort of "rough and +tumble" in which his opponent tried to bury him in the sofa pillows, and +out of which he always emerged with every hair on end, his eyes like +live coals, and his voice cracked from his efforts to make himself heard +under a pyramid of cushions.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shack tried to keep his hand in for the "hammer throw," and practised +rather intermittently when football gave him a few spare moments. Then +was Mud in his particular glory. He would trot to the gymnasium at his +master's heels, watch gravely from one of the long benches while Shack +stripped and dressed, and then follow him into the middle of the field +with an unmistakable air of pride.</p> + +<p>When Shack took the hammer in hand Mud would begin to whimper, and as it +whirled faster and faster round Shack's head, the howl grew more and +more crescendo until the missile took to flight, with Mud after it so +fast that it seemed as if he must sometime get the good sixteen pounds +on the middle of his back.</p> + +<p>So great was the danger that Shack hit upon the expedient of having Mud +guard his sweater, which turned out to be the only way to keep the +energetic little fellow still. It was surprising too what a changed dog +he became when this responsibility was put upon him. He watched +suspiciously every one who approached, and there was no friend near +enough to be allowed to encroach on the forbidden ground occupied by +Shack's old sweater. Marlowe tried to pull it away suddenly one day, and +left a piece of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> sleeve between Mud's sharp teeth as a memento of +the encounter.</p> + +<p>It was after two or three weeks' residence in Shack's hospitable +quarters that Mud attained the zenith of his popularity and became +mascot of the class of 188-. In fact, he bade fair to attain the very +pinnacle of a dog's ambition, and to occupy the position of "luck +bringer" to the whole college.</p> + +<p>His predecessor had been a brindled bulldog of such extraordinary +ugliness that it approached the beautiful, but he had fallen into +disgrace after allowing the Freshmen to win the deciding game of +baseball in the Spring, and the class had not filled the vacant place +until Mud came to ornament it.</p> + +<p>Shack failed this year to make the big team and played on his class +eleven, where he was a bright particular star. In the first game with +the Freshmen which they won, Shack at "centre," and Mud as mascot on the +side lines, divided the honors, and the game went eighteen to nothing in +their favor. After this Mud was solemnly installed in his position by +Seever, who gave him a charge much like that to a newly installed +minister, and to which Mud listened very seriously, with his head on one +side, as he sat on a big chair with Shack's cap over his left eye.</p> + +<p>It was hoped that Mud would furnish sufficient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> magic to make his class +winner in the game with the Seniors, which would decide the college +championship. When the day arrived he appeared at the gymnasium with an +enormous ribbon at his throat and much pride in his breast. He was so +distinctly elated that when Marlowe threw Shack's moleskin trousers at +him and told him to "Shake 'em," he declined to descend to so +undignified a sport.</p> + +<p>No, his game was to be football that day.</p> + +<p>It was late in October, and there was a thin mist threatening rain, +through which they travelled to reach the gridiron on which the struggle +was to be fought out. It was rather a rough field, with the trees all +around it, and the ground was quite covered in places by the dead maple +leaves. There was a mixed mob composed of the two classes; much +enthusiasm and more noise.</p> + +<p>Mud was installed in a place of honor on the side lines close to the +centre, and for a throne was given Shack's old sweater and told to +"Watch it."</p> + +<p>Immediately across could be seen the Senior mascot, a very disreputable +Billy goat, "bearded like the pard" and with only one horn left. When +Mud got a glimpse at his rival, nothing but a distinct sense of duty +restrained him from an immediate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> attack. When "William" was led, +struggling violently, around the field just before the game started, Mud +ran out on the long sleeve in a vain effort to reach his very +disreputable-looking enemy, but even then could not be tempted to leave +his precious charge.</p> + +<p>He became very much excited when the men took their places for the +"kick-off," and barked furiously at every "down" during the first +"half." It was a hard old game, too, and one remembered long after. +Class games are often more severe than contests with outside teams, for +class rivalry is very strong, and there are not the same pains taken to +restrain roughness. The Seniors kept bucking the line fiercely, and +Shack at "centre" had all the fun he wanted holding his ground against +repeated assaults. He was well backed up, however, by Marlowe on one +side and Terry on the other, and the "half" ended with the score six to +nothing in favor of the Sophs.</p> + +<p>It was a proud moment indeed for little Mud when he was led around the +field with the big ribbon on his neck, and so important did he feel that +he did not even notice old "Billy," although he trotted close by him.</p> + +<p>The Seniors started in with the same tactics when the whistle blew +again, although they had not been at all successful. Not a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> "round the +end" play did they make, and they were at last rewarded for their +perseverance by knocking the wind out of Marlowe so completely that he +was obliged to retire.</p> + +<p>The man that took his place was sandy enough, and well up in the game; +but he was too light to keep his feet on the soft ground, and it did not +take the Seniors long to discover that a plunge at "right guard" was +good for from two to five yards every time. Old Shack gave all the +assistance he could, but he was fairly well employed in attending to his +opposite, and the result was that the ball was worked slowly but +steadily up the field with every prospect of being carried over the +Sophs' line.</p> + +<p>Nothing but the call of time could save them, and they lined up more and +more slowly, struggling desperately and praying for the sound of the +whistle. Down the lines the spectators followed, cheering hoarsely, and +cutting up the soft turf like a huge drove of cattle. There were but two +more minutes of play and a scant five yards to make. Old Shack had a cut +over his right eye, and a little stream of blood trickled down his +mud-stained cheek. He was steaming like a "yoke of oxen," and his canvas +jacket was drenched with sweat, one stocking was down over his shoe, and +a sleeve of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> jersey was gone, showing the huge arm with its corded +muscles.</p> + +<p>He knew well enough that the "touchdown" must come unless something was +done, but no good chance did he get until the ball was inside the +five-yard line. "Four-twelve-twenty" called out the "quarter back," and +the big "senior centre," crouching low against Shack's strong shoulder, +snapped the ball back just as he had done a hundred times before that +day. He got a bit too low, in fact, for Shack gave him a jerk, and +before the little "quarter" could get the ball out of his hands Shack's +big paw was on him, rolling him over like a kitten, and before he knew +what had happened he had lost the ball, and Shack had it snugly tucked +under his arm.</p> + +<p>How the Sophs cheered, and when a moment later the whistle blew they +would have shouldered Shack had he not made it impossible by lying flat +on the muddy ground.</p> + +<p>During these last five minutes Mud had been deserted and well-nigh +forgotten, mascot though he was. The crowd had surged up the field where +the fierce struggle was going on, and the little fellow was left all +alone, with nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts. He could look +across to "Billy" on the other side, tied to a post, and alternately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +barked at him and whined for the friends who had left him.</p> + +<p>Mud had no chains but those of duty, yet for him they were sufficient. +He would very much have liked to follow the crowd, or better still to +have had his own little game of football with "Billy" across the way, +with neither an umpire nor a referee to keep account of distance or +prevent rough play; but here was Shack's precious sweater, and here he +was bound to stay.</p> + +<p>It had been raining too for a little while, and the little fellow was +getting cold and wet. He trotted around the narrow limits of his desert +island, giving an occasional shiver of discomfort, and wishing in his +heart that he was in his own snug place by Shack's warm fireside. The +thought of Shack warmed him a bit, despite the cold, and he lay down +again, waiting patiently for his master.</p> + +<p>When the whistle blew he sprang to his feet, for he knew as well as +anybody that the game was now over, and when he heard the shouts he gave +a bark or two of triumph. His friends would be back soon, and might +perhaps lead him around the field again. He could not see very well, for +it was almost dark, and still the crowd lingered at the far end of the +field. At last they began to come toward him; at first moving slowly, +then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> more hurriedly at the thought of dinner, until some started to +run, and there was a big rush for the narrow path which opened through +the trees not far from where Mud stood.</p> + +<p>The latter saw them coming, and he waved his stump of a tail and wiggled +his little body as he thought of the hand touches, and the "Good old +Mud" he was so soon to hear from Shack himself.</p> + +<p>The crowd came like a wide, wide sea; but little Mud had no thought of +danger until they were close to him. He saw the big wave about to roll +over, he half turned as if for flight, and then, crouching low, he +sprang at the first man who set foot on the sweater he was left to +guard. He made no sound, and in the darkness and confusion the wave of +humanity swept over him, and did not pause until it left him crushed and +scarce alive. When Seever saw him as he followed the rushing mob, the +little fellow was dragging himself painfully back to the big sweater and +had a bit of gray cloth in his sharp teeth, which he had torn from the +first intruder.</p> + +<p>Shack was giving a shoulder to Marlowe when some one cried out, "Shack, +old man, Mud's hurt;" and he left Marlowe in an instant, and was off +like a shot with a dozen men after him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they reached the crowd that clung in a dense circle, much as on the +first night, they found Mud lying on the sweater, his poor little body a +shapeless thing.</p> + +<p>Shack bent over him with a groan, then lifted him tenderly in his arms, +and for a moment there came in the little fellow's fast-glazing eyes the +light of recognition. He licked the big hand that held him so carefully, +shivered a little, crept close to Shack's stained jacket, trembled a +little longer, and then lay still at last on Shack's broad breast.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="HOW_KITTY_QUEERED_THE_MILE" id="HOW_KITTY_QUEERED_THE_MILE"></a> +<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="600" height="202" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>I hear it whispered every now and again that the reason a probable +winner disappoints is because he is drugged. This is why that quarter on +which Tom White had a mortgage goes to an inferior man, and because of +this Jack Lewis, who was yards better than his field, is beaten out in +the "run in" of the "220" hurdles.</p> + +<p>Now, I am prepared to say, after a longer track experience than falls to +the lot of most men, that in almost all such affairs the fault is with +the men themselves, who have either not done their work, or, more likely +still, have overtrained and gone stale.</p> + +<p>Indeed, I honestly believe that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred +the best man wins because he is the best man, and the rest of the field +lose simply because they have not the legs, lungs, heart, or courage +necessary to bring them in first. There is mighty little "hocus-pocus" +business in amateur athletics, and the atmosphere of the cinder-path<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +is, after all is said, as pure as any on earth, not excepting that of +politics and the legal profession.</p> + +<p>I know a very few events where men were drugged to put them out of +contests, but they are, in the main, uninteresting tales which I do not +care to tell.</p> + +<p>In the little crack I mean to have with you, although no drugs were +used, there is about the clearest case of "fix" I know, and, what is +more to the point, I'll bet a fiver you will read it to the end.</p> + +<p>I became acquainted with Kitty Murray when I was putting the finishing +touches to the athletic team of a large New England academy, just what +and where I cannot say, for very obvious reasons.</p> + +<p>They had on their list an annual contest in field sports with a rival +academy, and called in outside training talent only six or eight weeks +before the games.</p> + +<p>Kitty, with whom I struck up a friendship a day or two after my arrival, +was a little English girl, as fresh and fragrant as an "Old-Country" +rose such as I used to find long ago in a distant Lancashire garden. She +was only five years over, and it seemed like going back again just to +hear her talk. We became great friends during my stay in the little +town, and I shall never quite forget her.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>I hope the story I am about to tell will not be thought to reflect on +her, and it will not, unless I bungle badly in the telling of it. Now, I +do not, of course, defend the "queering" of a race, and Kitty as surely +put a contestant out of winning place as if she had used a drug, yet it +was not done for money. The man did not deserve to win, and I confess I +like her all the better for the deed.</p> + +<p>Kitty's father had come from an Oldham factory, thinking, like many +another, that in America he would own his mill within a five year. The +five years had passed, and he was still running his eight looms in the +big weave-shed by the river, where he first went to work.</p> + +<p>Kitty had tended her five looms by his side for a year or so, and then +found more congenial as well as more remunerative surroundings in a +little store near the academy grounds.</p> + +<p>This store occupied the lower story of a dwelling-house, which had been +built out toward the street, until its wooden porch infringed on the +sidewalk, and its flight of long steps rose from the edge of the gutter.</p> + +<p>Whether it fractured any of the town ordinances by preëmpting the +sidewalk in this way I do not know, but it had a particularly inviting +appearance, like a host coming half way to meet you, and the porch, +sheltering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> from sun and shower, was a perfect drag-net for customers.</p> + +<p>The front was all window, and the stock in trade plainly visible from +the opposite side of the street. Here was candy in jars on the shelves +and in trays on the counter, fruit in boxes and baskets by the windows, +a huge soda fountain near the door, and an ice-cream parlor back of the +store, with its horrible marble-topped tables, like gravestones awaiting +the inscription of "Sacred to." I have travelled a bit, first and last, +but nothing more dismal than an American ice-cream parlor do I remember +to have seen.</p> + +<p>While it cannot be denied that Kitty's confectionery was often stale, +her fruit flavorless, her soda frothy, and her ice-cream as full of +starch as a Chinese laundry, Kitty herself was all right, and fresh and +dainty enough to offset all the deficiencies of her wares.</p> + +<p>I can see her now, as I tell this story, with her bright "Old-Country" +blushes, her soft brown hair, her blue eyes, and her trim little figure +which her gowns always fitted so snugly. She was a marvel of neatness +from ribbon to shoe tip, and was rather extravagant in the matter of +foot-gear, for Kitty had a sweet foot and ankle of her own, concerning +which she was not ignorant.</p> + +<p>Cap'n Holden, the proprietor of the store,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> was a long, lank Vermonter, +who had run a ding-dong race with consumption for twenty years, and was +likely now to make an age record ahead of many a hearty man. He lived in +a couple of rooms back of the ice-cream parlor, and left the management +of the store very largely to Kitty, doing the drudgery, and leaving the +high artistic to his assistant, content to find the money-drawer +comfortably filled each night.</p> + +<p>There was a steady stream of the academy boys flowing in and out the +door of Holden's store all day, ruining their digestions, and going +broke on pocket-money for the sake of basking in Kitty's smiles. A +clever little business woman was she, too, for eighteen years, and very +well aware of her worth, as Mr. Holden had learned to his cost, for he +paid her what seemed a fabulous salary.</p> + +<p>Now, my coming to the town was a serious misfortune to Kitty's business. +The taking some thirty of her best customers and forbidding their +accustomed indulgence in sweets, under penalty of not making the team, +must have resulted in serious inroads on her trade.</p> + +<p>She laughingly took me to task for this, one morning, soon after my +arrival, asking me how I expected her to get her living, and declaring +that Mr. Holden was looking at the poor-house with fearful glances. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +then, as I leaned on the counter, she began to pump me in a very pretty +way concerning the academy's chances in the coming games, showing an +especial interest in the mile. Would I please tell her who would win in +this event?</p> + +<p>Now, it must not be thought that I have been in the habit of giving tips +to inquisitive young ladies, for one thing a successful trainer must +learn is to hold his tongue; but in this case there was no secret +involved, and almost no money on, so I told her frankly that there were +only two men of any use at all, Black and Harris.</p> + +<p>Well, would I please tell her (ladies always say "please" in a +particularly wheedling way when they ask what they know they should +not),—would I please tell her which was the faster.</p> + +<p>I answered that Harris was a very neat little runner who would win in +average company, but that Black's stride was too much for him, and +Harris could not show within five seconds of Black's time for the +distance. Here the corners of Kitty's pretty mouth dropped most +suddenly, and I then and there surprised the secret that under the folds +of her flowered muslin lurked a shy liking for Jack Harris.</p> + +<p>This was not at all to be wondered at, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> Jack was a mighty nice boy, +pleasant to every one, and a fine performer in almost all branches of +sport. Black was about the same age as Harris, nearly twenty, and, +unlike Harris, was tall and dark, and rather surly and superior. They +were both to leave for college at the end of the year, considered +themselves men grown, and cherished a mighty strong liking for little +Kitty. They were equally anxious to win the "mile," and to this end had +trained very conscientiously, breaking the tape in the sight of Kitty's +bright eyes being, after all, the strongest incentive.</p> + +<p>I talked quite freely with the little girl, for she reminded me of old +Lancashire, and she on her part took no particular care to conceal the +fact that she should like very much to see Jack Harris win.</p> + +<p>As the days went by I took special pains with Jack, but though he +improved nicely he could not quite reach Black, and as the time of the +contests approached I could give Kitty no encouragement, much as I +should have liked to do so.</p> + +<p>The very night before the games I went into the store and, in answer to +her question, told her plainly that unless Black was taken suddenly ill, +he would certainly best Jack, and that from all reports Harris was just +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> sure of second place, as the other academy had only moderate talent +to offer in the "mile."</p> + +<p>"And would Jack win, then, if Black was out of it, or a bit off?" she +asked, with a little tremble of disappointment in her voice.</p> + +<p>I answered that a race was never won until the tape broke, and the +judges had given their decision, but that it certainly looked that way; +and while Kitty was weighing out some peppermints to an old lady, with +an ounce of smiles for which she did not charge, I passed quietly +through the ice-cream parlor into Mr. Holden's little den in the rear. +Holden and I were quite cronies by this time; we often chatted together +of an evening, and I dropped quite naturally into a rocking-chair near +the door, which was ajar, and through which I could get a good view of +the store without being myself observed.</p> + +<p>He was reading the "Boston Globe" with the aid of his glasses, his pipe, +and a pitcher of hard cider. He filled me a glass of the last, pushed +the tobacco-jar across the table toward me, and handed me the sporting +half of the paper without a word. I took a drink, lit my pipe, and +pretended to read the paper, keeping a close watch on the front shop +meanwhile.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, I had a method in all this, which was to be where I could see that +none of the boys broke training in this most dangerous place, on the +night before the contests. I had given the boys a much more rigorous +course of training than was usual, and was a bit afraid of some of them, +not accustomed to deprivations of any kind.</p> + +<p>I sat smoking my pipe, and reading my paper, a fragment at a time, +customers coming and going, but saw nothing of interest until about nine +o'clock, when Harris entered, looking particularly well in tennis +flannels and sweater. He bade Kitty a "good evening," in that pleasant +way of his, and asked for a pound of mixed chocolates.</p> + +<p>"A pound of mixed chocolates!" exclaimed Kitty, instantly alert. "Why, +Jack Harris, you know you ought not to touch a single piece, and you to +run to-morrow! Not an ounce will I give you."</p> + +<p>I think Harris was pleased at the motherliness of the little girl, for +he told her without any chaffing that the candy was intended for his +sisters, who were spending the night at the hotel, with their aunt. "Do +you know, Kitty," said he, "they would not give up their chocolates to +win a world's championship?"</p> + +<p>"I would, then," said Kitty. "It must be splendid to go over the line +first, with the rest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> following after. I suppose that's what you'll do +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Not likely," he answered frankly; "Black is yards better, and unless he +has a stroke of paralysis in the stretch, I shall have the pleasure of +following him in, and must content myself with second place or worse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack," said Kitty, "I wish you could win; you must win. Can't I +help you in some way?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how," he answered, "unless you can furnish me a pair of +legs as long and as good as Black's, and they are hard to find."</p> + +<p>"Don't joke," said Kitty, with a look of reproach. "If I were you I'd +beat him without any legs, I'd get ahead, and stay there if it killed +me."</p> + +<p>There was in this just a hint of reflection on the boy's courage, but it +was given in such good heart, that he could not take offence, and he +laughed in rather a forced way and said, "I suppose I am an awful duffer +not to be able to call the trick, for I have worked my best, and not +thrown away a single chance. The truth is that Black is a better man at +the distance, has been as careful as myself, and is not likely to take +any liberties with himself until the race is over. I saw him a little +while ago, and he was looking 'out of sight.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>At this there was silence for a little, for the outlook was certainly +quite hopeless. From my seat by the door I could see them plainly, and I +felt rather like an eavesdropper, when Kitty put her hand on Jack's +sleeve in her earnestness.</p> + +<p>They made a pretty picture with their flushed faces and easy attitudes, +and I thought of an old garden-gate in Lancashire where there had been +much the same scene long ago.</p> + +<p>They talked together a moment or two longer in low tones, and then Kitty +became suddenly conscious, and went back again behind the counter, with +a touch of embarrassment. Jack took his box of candy, and said "Good +night," stopping at the door a moment to say, "Win or lose, I shall do +all I know. I promise you he shall know he has been in a race, and I +shall run clear out, or run a winner."</p> + +<p>There were only a few more customers, for we kept good hours in the +little town, and I was about to take my leave, satisfied that my men +were all in bed, when Black entered.</p> + +<p>Now, this was clearly in disobedience of my instructions, which were, +for this night, bed at nine-thirty, and it was now five minutes later by +the clock over the stove. While the training of this academy team was a +small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> matter for me, some of my best friends whom I had handled on big +college teams were anxious for them to win, had considered the matter +well-nigh settled when they had prevailed on me to take them on, and I +had been very strict and painstaking in my handling of them. I was +naturally provoked that Black should openly disobey instructions, and I +sat back in my chair to watch developments.</p> + +<p>I do not remember what Black said, but he made an effort to be agreeable +which was not particularly successful. There was something about his +manner indicating condescension, which was not at all pleasing to +Kitty's democratic spirit. She very promptly took him to task for being +out after hours, and with a very different tone from that used when +reproving Jack Harris.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to be dictated to by any old played-out martinet of a +trainer," said he gruffly. "It is all well enough for those who have no +sure thing. I saw Harris going to his room fifteen minutes ago, but I'll +sleep when I like, and beat him then."</p> + +<p>At this very foolish and boasting remark, involving also a reflection on +Jack's prowess, I could see Kitty's eyes flash, and her cheeks redden, +and then there came over her face a very peculiar expression of +determination I could not at all understand. She changed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> gradually from +indifference to interest, and finally said, with a well-assumed air of +admiration, "It must be splendid to be so sure of winning; and don't you +have to train at all?"</p> + +<p>"Deuced little," he answered; "I go through the motions with old Brown, +but eat and drink just what I like, and sleep four or eight hours, as I +prefer."</p> + +<p>Now, this was a bare-faced lie, and his sin found him out as quickly as +in any "goody" book I ever read, for Kitty went on to say in her pretty +way, becoming every moment more genial and fascinating, "Isn't that +nice? then you can take a soda with me before I start for home."</p> + +<p>Remember that I was all the time in the back room with Mr. Holden, +listening to the talk, rather hot under the collar at Black's "old +played-out martinet," and wondering what in the world little Kitty was +plotting.</p> + +<p>Black looked a bit doubtful at her offer; he had trained to the dot, and +did not mean to throw away a single chance to win, but such an +invitation from Kitty was an unheard-of honor, he could not very well +eat his words, so he consented with an assumed alacrity, and Kitty +proceeded to draw a glass of soda for him.</p> + +<p>And such a glass of soda as it was! If Mr. Holden had seen it he would +have had a fit;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> nothing like it had ever gone over his counter, expense +was not considered, and profit there could have been none. I could see +the whole devil's brew myself, but Black could not, for Kitty stood +between him and the glass.</p> + +<p>First she put in a double quantity of heavy, thick chocolate, then a +liberal lump of ice-cream, and finally hardly enough soda to mix them. +She drew a glass of Vichy for herself, and I watched as they drank, and +chatted, and laughed together.</p> + +<p>Now, what were the reasons why I did not interfere, while my best +mile-runner was getting outside of this horrible mixture?</p> + +<p>The first was, that we did not need him to win the "mile"; the second +was, that his remarks concerning myself were not inclined to make me +care for him personally; the third was, that I thought defeat might +teach him a much-needed lesson; and the last and most potent, I must +confess, was, that I had not the heart to spoil Kitty's wicked little +game, which she was playing so beautifully.</p> + +<p>As I said before, it was as clear a case of "fix" as if she had given +him a drug, and between a mild dose of poison and the glass she mixed, +there was little for an athlete in training to choose.</p> + +<p>I sat in the back room for at least a half-hour longer, and saw Black +drink three more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> glasses of different flavors, chosen with special +reference to their baleful effects; and so pleasant and jolly was Kitty, +and so happy was Black, that I am sure she could have substituted a dose +of rhubarb without his notice.</p> + +<p>It was after ten o'clock when Kitty put on her hat, and I afterward +learned that she talked a full hour longer with him at her gate, an +unheard-of thing for Kitty, who was particularly careful of gossip, and +it was midnight when he rolled into bed.</p> + +<p>He must have had the digestion of an ostrich not to have been +immediately and positively ill; but he was not, and barring a little +lack of color, he gave no indication of his previous night's +extraordinary training, when he went to the mark for the mile.</p> + +<p>It had been a mighty busy day for me; the boys were young, some of them +had never been contestants before, and they were nervous and uncertain. +I got through the morning as best I could, giving advice here, answering +a question there, telling some little fellow with a white face that +there was no doubt of his winning, and another, who was over-confident, +that he had no chance unless he followed instructions to the dot.</p> + +<p>Dinner over (for at our boarding-house we dined at noon) I started for +the "grounds,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> which were over on the other side of the little town. +The wide street was well dotted with carriages, and the sidewalks +crowded with townspeople, country folk, and a liberal sprinkling of the +supporters of the rival academy. Most of the mill-hands were out, and +the rattle of the looms was subdued, half of them being silent.</p> + +<p>I threaded my way through the mob as best I could, for, every few feet, +some one would buttonhole me to ask a fool question. Then again, did you +ever notice how much harder it is to work your way through a crowd of +country people than one of equal density in the city? There is a +sluggishness and inertness very different from the quick movements of +those whose feet are accustomed to tread city paves.</p> + +<p>However, when I got beyond the shopping quarter, where the +dwelling-houses began, the streets were free enough, and I crossed over +to the south side, the day being warm, and the shade of the elms +grateful. I was passing Holden's store, when Kitty appeared in the +doorway, as if by accident, and with a very pretty look of mingled +surprise and pleasure. She looked as if she had just arrived from +Arcadia, or had stepped out of a Dresden dish, with her fresh muslin +figured with little sprays of flowers, a big hat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> on her soft brown +hair, and a parasol in her hand which displayed the academy color.</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were bright, and grew a shade brighter as she asked, "Please, +Mr. Brown, may I walk along with you?" Receiving my very hearty assent +she tripped down the steps and across the street, taking special pains +to save the figured muslin from the dust of the street. I think I said +that Kitty's ankles were irreproachable.</p> + +<p>Although it was very evident Kitty had been to some pains to see me, I +found her very silent and preoccupied. She had said not much more than a +silly word or two about the weather, when we reached the Lee place, +where she said she must leave me, as she had promised to stop for Sally +and Kate. As she put her hand on the latch of the gate she gave me the +first hint of what was burdening her mind by asking, "Are the boys all +feeling well?"</p> + +<p>I said, "Yes, as far as I know," and then to try her, "though Black +looks a bit queer, for some unaccountable reason."</p> + +<p>"That's too bad," answered Kitty, with considerable affectation of +sorrow, as she swung the gate open; but I noticed a little widening of +the mouth, and a tell-tale dimple in her cheek almost betrayed her. Not +once did she raise her eyes to mine either, something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> very unusual with +her, for she had the frankest glance possible.</p> + +<p>I watched her as she mounted the steps and rang the bell, and then +walked on beneath the tall elms, philosophizing over that most +interesting subject, "a woman and her ways," something the masculine +mind cannot understand, but likes to struggle with.</p> + +<p>The track was in the centre of the "campus," an enclosure of several +acres of soft green turf, fringed and fenced by its row of tall trees. +Around the track the spectators were gathering, and the grand stand was +beginning to fill. All the officials and most of the contestants were +already inside the ropes, the former bustling around with their +bright-colored badges flapping, and extremely busy doing nothing; the +latter, in their spotless trunks and jerseys, with bare brown legs and +arms, looking "sweet enough to kiss," so I heard a pretty little matron +say on one of the lower seats. Indeed, I know few finer sights than a +young fellow, clean-limbed and lithe, trained to perfection, with eyes +bright, and face darkened by the sun, waiting in his running-togs, with +a background of green grass, and overhead the cloudless sky.</p> + +<p>As soon as I got among them, the boys flocked around me, and after a +hearty word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> or two I sent the team off by the catcher's fence, a little +beyond, for there were no dressing-rooms, and I wanted to know where to +find them. Jack was looking "finer than silk," and Black not half bad, +although a trifle dark under the eyes. I was not at all sure that even +Kitty's dose was enough to stop him.</p> + +<p>Now, I do not propose to say a word about any event but the "mile." This +was the last event on the list, we were comfortable winners already, and +everybody was speculating how badly Black would fracture the record; +there seemed to be no doubt about his winning, and, unpopular as he was, +it was with many admiring exclamations that he ran a few yards to limber +up. His long legs moved like clock-work, and his stride was remarkable.</p> + +<p>We had just lost the final heat of the "220," and when the starter's +whistle blew for the "mile" I could see the faces brighten up, for it +was confidently expected that Black and Harris would run first and +second, and leave a pleasant taste in the mouth to take home to supper.</p> + +<p>There were six starters, and when Jack took his place on the outside, he +was the finest-looking boy of the lot. Not having grown so fast, he was +more rounded and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> filled out than the others, though he carried not an +ounce of useless tissue. His arms and legs were better developed, and +his face was clean cut as a cameo.</p> + +<p>Kitty sat directly on a line with the tape, on the top row of seats, +between the Lee girls. One of them, I could see, was keeping a watchful +eye on the west, where the thunder heads were gathering.</p> + +<p>But Kitty did not see any clouds, not she. She did not care if the +deluge came after this race; and what was a shower, or a wet gown? She +was red and pale by turns, breathing hard, and had both elbows on the +top rail behind her, as if to brace herself for the ordeal. Wonderfully +attractive was she in this attitude of repressed excitement, and though +the grand stand was full of pretty girls, dressed in their best bibs and +tuckers, I saw none to compare with her.</p> + +<p>When Jack glanced up at her, she leaned forward and waved her hand, +giving him a look that brought the color to his cheeks. But when he +turned, got on his mark, and put out his hands, his flush faded, the +half smile disappeared, and in their place came as stern a look of +resolution as I ever saw in a boy's face.</p> + +<p>And yet I doubted he could win.</p> + +<p>True, he was just the one to do a shade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> better in competition than in +training, but Black was likely to do no worse (unless pulled back by the +sodas), and with a strong five seconds to the good, it was a beautiful +race to guess on.</p> + +<p>"Marks! Set!" The bang of the pistol, with its little wreath of smoke +rising in the still air, and they are off. "Crunch, crunch, crunch" +sound the quick feet on the cinders, a stout fellow, not half trained, +taking the lead, and bound to drop out before the "half," unless I am no +judge. They disappear a second behind the catcher's fence, emerge again, +swing round the turn, straighten out again, and the men are well +trailed, as usual, at the lower turn. Down the stretch they come, and +just before they pass the posts Black jumps into the lead, amid the +applause of the grand stand. Where is Jack? Why, where he ought to be +with the pace like this, and three-quarters more to run. He has followed +my orders to the dot, starting off easily (one of the almost impossible +things to teach a young runner), trailing behind the field, and he +finishes the first quarter last of the six, and a full twenty yards +behind Black, running strong and well, though not so showily as his +rival.</p> + +<p>I see poor little Kitty's face grow white and hopeless as they go by.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Round the track they swing again, two men dropping out at the lower +turn, already run off their feet, and one of them the stout fellow, as I +expected. Indeed, as they pass the posts the second time all have come +back a bit to Jack but Black, and Kitty's face is touched by grim +despair, for that dreadful twenty yards still stretches between the one +she wishes to win and the one she tried to put out of the race.</p> + +<p>On the third quarter Jack lets out a link, picking up one after another, +until only Black leads him, and when they start on the last lap he is +running strong and fairly fresh, only ten yards behind, and the rest +trailed badly.</p> + +<p>Kitty's face is the queerest mixture of hope and fear I ever saw.</p> + +<p>Black runs with the confidence of repeated victories in trials, and +attempts to open up the gap again; but Jack has a bit up his sleeve +still, answers with a little spurt of his own, will not be denied, and +is only a bare five yards to the bad as they straighten out for the last +hundred yards.</p> + +<p>Here Black glances over his shoulder, and I can see his look of +surprise. Jack has never been so close up at this stage of the game. It +is evident that both the boys are approaching "Queer Street," "Queer +Street" with its pounding heart and panting lungs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> its parched mouth, +singing ears, and leaden feet. Both are game to the core, and it is now +only a question of endurance. Here is the runner's purgatory, where the +sins of the past are settled, and here it is that Kitty's ice-cream +sodas take a hand in the sport.</p> + +<p>What would Black give if he had not imbibed their awful sweetness?</p> + +<p>Inch by inch Jack draws up on him, his jaw set, his eyes aflame, his +stride shortening, but still quick and straight. Black's face is leaden, +his eyes glassy, his long legs giving at the knees at every stride.</p> + +<p>Down the stretch they come, the crowd on its feet, but too excited to +yell, Kitty with her hand over one eye, and her handkerchief tight +between her white teeth.</p> + +<p>For twenty yards they run almost side by side, and then Jack pumps ahead +and breaks the tape, a winner by a scant yard. Black follows over in a +heap, staggers a step or two, and falls before any one can catch him.</p> + +<p>Sick, was he? Well, rather!</p> + +<p>He had a touch of colic that doubled him up like a grasshopper. He +groaned and coughed, he writhed and twisted, like a lobster on the +coals. I knew it was not a dangerous matter, and gave him little +sympathy, extracting a half confession concerning his training escapade +of the previous evening.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>Kitty, the little Jezebel, blushed like a rose when Jack waved his hand +at her, as he was carried off on the shoulders of some enthusiastic +friends.</p> + +<p>Little did he know how he came to win over a faster man; little did +Black understand there had been a plot for his undoing; and unless she +reads this story, Kitty will always think her secret is a secret to all +the world.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="ATHERTONS_LAST_HALF" id="ATHERTONS_LAST_HALF"></a> +<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="600" height="102" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>Back in the mountains of North Carolina, where the air is like a tonic, +free from all taint of river mist and swamp malaria, and medicined by +the fragrance of pine and hemlock, lives Teddy Atherton.</p> + +<p>His house is perched on a spur of the mountains, and can be seen with a +good glass from Asheville on a clear day. It has green blinds, tall +wooden pillars, and granite steps. It is the pattern that New England +builders used to fancy fifty years ago or more, and looks a bit strange +in its setting of mountain and forest. Here Teddy spends his time among +his books, fishing and hunting, in the company of his dogs, or the +society of an occasional friend, truant from business or profession.</p> + +<p>For a few weeks only in midsummer he risks the dangers of our east +winds, and is seen at the Somerset and Country Clubs, much to the +gratification of a host of friends.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>He has had me South with him a couple of times, and never goes back +without inviting me to dine with him. I always accept, though the +pleasure of his society is more than offset by painful recollections. We +linger long at the table over my favorite madeira, and we talk of the +old days, the old contests, and the old boys, grown now to be stout +merchants, lawyers, and I know not what. Some of them have lads who will +bring new honor to names already famous on track and field, and some, +alas! have been beaten out by that famous runner and certain final +winner, old Death himself.</p> + +<p>Often, as I sit and watch Atherton across the table, there comes into my +eyes, not at all accustomed to such a freak, so clear a hint of +moisture, that nothing but a mighty volume of smoke saves me from +detection.</p> + +<p>He is a small man, five feet five or less, and not exceeding eight stone +in weight. His closely shaven face is thin and brown, his eyes dark and +full of fire, his mouth firm and sensitive. There is nothing of the +despairing or helpless invalid about him; his shoulders are square, and +his movements resolute; yet he knows, and I know, that his life hangs by +a thread. I know whose fault it is, in part at least, that his days are +numbered, that his chest is hollow, and that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> despite his self-control, +he cannot restrain every now and again that hacking cough.</p> + +<p>I shall tell the story, not because I like to, but as a warning to those +who are willing to make a winner, no matter what the risk or cost.</p> + +<p>Late on an afternoon, just before the inter-collegiate games of 188-, +there sat on the gymnasium steps a group of college sports, with heavy +brows and serious minds.</p> + +<p>Even the weather was dubious, for the wind had worked round into the +east, the clouds were gathering, and the air was damp and dismal. What +few men there were on the track wore sweaters, and one or two had pulled +long trousers over their trunks to keep their legs warm. The elms had +got their heads together, as if conspiring mischief, and we had talked +ourselves pretty well out, with no good results.</p> + +<p>We had that day given the team a serious "try out," and were fairly +contented with its showing in all the events but the "half."</p> + +<p>There was no question about it, Bates could not call the trick; that is, +not with his present showing.</p> + +<p>We all agreed that he was good enough, but he had no head at all. He ran +his second quarter to the "queen's taste," and finished strong and well; +but on his first lap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> he sogered like a Turk, and came in at least five +seconds slow. He had no idea whatever of pace, was not a sprinter, and +was easy for any opponent with a turn of speed, who would trail him +round and pass him in the stretch.</p> + +<p>We had told Sherman (who had no chance to win, and knew it) to run the +first lap in fifty-nine, instructing Bates to stay with him. Bates +stayed all right, but Sherman was as far off as the man he paced,—in +the first trial running in sixty-three, which was as bad as ever; and in +the second pulling him out to fifty-six, so that neither finished.</p> + +<p>The question was, who should make pace for Bates.</p> + +<p>There were, sprawling on the steps that night, beside myself, Griffith, +Smith, "Doc," and of course Tom Furness, for Tom had missed few such +conclaves in the last half-dozen years.</p> + +<p>Now, the public knows pretty well who wins the events, but mighty little +about the planning and contriving by which the athletic material of a +college is developed and made the most of. Upon us five rested much of +the responsibility for making winners of the team of 188-. With me it +was a matter of business and professional standing; to the others, the +glory of their college, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> personal satisfaction of having added +to it. All of them were practical men, who had in days gone by carried +their college colors, and Tom Furness had been a mighty good athlete, +who had put a record where it stood untouched for a good five years. Tom +was tall, fair, and sanguine. An optimist by nature, he never dreamed of +anything but success, was a favorite with the graduates, while the +college worshipped him. I never saw the man who could put heart into a +losing team like Tom Furness.</p> + +<p>Just below him sat "Doc" Peckham, dark and silent. He was short and +brown bearded, the very opposite of Tom, and had a rather embarrassing +way of puncturing Tom's pretty bubbles. He was not so well liked as +Furness, but was after all fully as valuable an adviser. He had a good +practice in the city, but managed, in some way, to leave it whenever he +was needed. Griffith and Smith were men who, as a rule, agreed with the +majority, and myself in particular; so they were quite as useful as if +they had been perpetually inventing foolish plans.</p> + +<p>We had been silent a full minute, which is not long for a crowd of +college "gray-beards," when Tom Furness jumped to his feet with the air +of a man who has made up his mind, expects opposition, but is still +confident<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> of the integrity of his position, and said, "Teddy Atherton's +our man."</p> + +<p>"Teddy Atherton be blowed," said "Doc," who sat on the bottom step, his +knees under his chin, drawing inspiration from his pipe. "He's run +nothing but the 'quarter' for the last three years, and while he shows a +fraction slower than Allen and Waite in practice, has a better head, and +I would not give a toss-up for the difference between them."</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Furness; "it's Teddy's good head that we want. Now +listen to me. We have three 'quarter milers' who finish under a blanket, +and any one of them is about good enough to win. Allen has shown a shade +the best time, and we certainly cannot pull him out, while Waite would +sulk like a bear with a sore head if asked to make pace, and probably be +worse than useless. Atherton, beside having better judgment, is a +particularly unselfish chap, and if handled right will consent, and fill +the bill exactly."</p> + +<p>"Deuced hard on Atherton," said Smith; "he's trained faithfully, has a +chance to win in the 'quarter,' and yet we ask him to sacrifice himself +in the 'half' because Bates is a duffer and will not use his head."</p> + +<p>We discussed the matter a while longer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> and had barely arrived at an +agreement, when who should come briskly from the gymnasium but Teddy +himself. He jumped down the steps, and was hurrying away, with a joke at +our serious faces, when I spoke up and said (for such uncomfortable +commissions were usually assigned to me), "Wait a minute, Atherton, we +want a word with you."</p> + +<p>"All right, old man," he said, "but be quick about it, for I've a dinner +waiting for me that will be cold after seven o'clock." He was fresh from +his shower-bath and rub-down, and looked as if he had stepped out of a +bandbox. We could guess where the dinner was, for Atherton was very +serious about Mollie Kittredge; and whether Mollie smiled or not, +Mollie's mamma was complacent enough, and did her best to give Teddy a +clear track and no contestants. Mollie was a howling favorite, "blonde, +bland, and beautiful," who, it was rumored, did not care to be won by a +"walk-over," and would have liked Teddy better if he had been a bit more +difficult.</p> + +<p>Now, I believe it is best to go at once to the point with a disagreeable +matter, so I said bluntly, "I'm sorry, Atherton, but we have decided to +ask you to run in the 'half'; it is a late day to make the change,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> and +it will, of course, give you no chance to win; but it seems to us the +only thing to do under the circumstances."</p> + +<p>The boy winced, looked at us keenly to see if we were serious, then grew +grave and said, rather sarcastically, "Your reasons for selecting me in +particular as the scape-goat are of course good and sufficient, and you +will pardon me for asking what they are?"</p> + +<p>I went over the matter with him in detail, assisted by Furness, giving +all our reasons, doing my best to make the project as inviting as +possible; and Atherton finally consented, as we expected. It was, +however, a very serious face he carried off, and one very different from +that which smiled upon us at the beginning. We were all mighty sorry for +the boy, and I felt as if I had committed a petty theft, and deserved +the penitentiary, or worse. I had only been the spokesman for the rest, +and had racked my brains to think of some way to save Atherton from the +sacrifice; but Tom was really unassailable in his position, and even +"Doc" did not oppose him.</p> + +<p>I watched the lithe figure as it disappeared around the corner of the +fence, realizing how full of disappointment my message must have been, +and was sorry enough about it.</p> + +<p>Atherton had arrived at college without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> either athletic training or +ambition. A student of the first rank, so that he was known at once +where muscular ability is much more likely to obtain recognition than +mental strength, it was not until his second year that I saw much of +him.</p> + +<p>He then took up running, not so much with a view of contesting, as to +fill out his lungs and increase his strength. It was not long, however, +before he began to show decided improvement, and steadily gaining, had +run unplaced, but close up, in his junior year. He had brought himself +out in this way without in the least losing rank as a scholar, and I +knew it was his one remaining ambition to get a place in athletics, and +win a point for the old college on this last competition to which he +would be eligible. If he had been a musty bookworm I should not have +cared so much, but he was a splendid fellow, of good family, and a great +favorite of mine, because of his pluck and good nature.</p> + +<p>He appeared next day on the track, as agreed, a little serious, but not +at all disagreeable; which made me feel more guilty than ever. In fact, +I tried to apologize, and for this received, as I deserved, a sharp +answer, that the decision was doubtless correct, and there was no +necessity for further talk.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>He listened to my instructions carefully, took Bates along within a half +second of the fifty-nine, and left him in the stretch to finish four +seconds better than ever before. Teddy was badly used up, of course, for +he was not at all accustomed to the distance, and when I gave him a +shoulder to the gymnasium, he was as limp as possible. He took our +congratulations with a half smile, and would not confess that he was +much the worse for the effort.</p> + +<p>Tom Furness was much elated, insisting there was no question but that we +had made a change to the advantage of all but Teddy, and it was right +that he should suffer for the good of the cause. It is wonderful with +what complacency we look upon the sacrifice of others.</p> + +<p>As I thought it over that night, I had serious doubts about Atherton's +condition, and the next morning I told Furness just how badly he was +used up; but I did not take a decided stand, as I should have done, and +the reason was purely selfish and unworthy. I was, of course, anxious to +win the cup; it meant much to me, and I decided to take the risk.</p> + +<p>The day came round, particularly sultry and close. The sky was brassy, +the sun a ball of fire, and what little wind there was felt like the +breath of a furnace.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a day to break records, and to break a trainer's heart as well; +for often a man who is right "on edge" will show up limp and lifeless +under such conditions, going stale in a night.</p> + +<p>I had changed rooms at the hotel so that the men might sleep with all +the air possible, given them an early breakfast, and got them over to +the grounds before the sun was very hot.</p> + +<p>We settled ourselves in the dressing-rooms, and the men stripped at once +for the sake of comfort and coolness. A beautiful sight it was. An +athlete looks much like a city clerk with his clothes on, but stripped +to the buff there is a mighty difference. No weak, skinny legs, no fat +disfigured bodies, no bunched and rounded shoulders.</p> + +<p>You may boast of your fine horses and beautiful women, but give me an +athlete in perfect training, particularly if I have had the handling of +him, and have seen the fat disappear and the strong, clean muscle take +its place.</p> + +<p>The boys are seated on the long benches or standing in front of the +lockers. Here is the slender figure of a sprinter, not an ounce of +superfluous flesh or unused muscle, the cords of his shapely legs +standing out clear and firm through the satin skin. There is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +shot-putter, stopping a moment to chaff with a friend, stripped to the +waist, his shirt in his hand. See how the mighty muscles stretch across +his breast and back! See the big, square neck, and that right arm and +shoulder, round and firm and hard!</p> + +<p>It is not men like the last that I worry about, for the heat will do +nothing but good to an anatomy like this; but the thin and slender +chaps, with not too much vitality at best, and trained close to the +limit—these I look over closely and carefully. I was more anxious about +Atherton than any other, and found him off in a corner by himself, near +the window. Perhaps the most popular man on the team, he was not over +jolly this morning, and the boys saw it, and left him alone. His clothes +were already hung in his locker, in that particularly neat way that some +of the boys might have copied to advantage. He had on his trunks and +jersey, and was lacing his running-shoes.</p> + +<p>I asked him how he felt. "All right," he said; but I knew better. The +hot night had told on him, and he was a bit pale and tired-looking. I +told him to get into his wrap, find a cool and comfortable place, and +take it easy until he was wanted. He followed instructions, as usual, +and I saw almost nothing of him until the "half" was called,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> late in +the afternoon. As usual, we had pulled off some unexpected wins, and +lost several "lead-pipe cinches." The latter, however, were far more +numerous, and I was decidedly on the anxious seat. Indeed, as near as I +could figure, unless Bates won the "half" we were out of it.</p> + +<p>Of Sherman we expected nothing; he was put in to fill out the string, +and because a man will sometimes surprise those best informed of his +incapacity.</p> + +<p>Bates we hoped would win, and Atherton was expected to run his first lap +in fifty-nine cutting wind and setting pace, to keep on in the second +lap at the same speed until he reached the stretch, where he was to drop +out (probably dead beat), leaving Bates to run in and break the tape. +There was little glory in this programme for Atherton, and I had seen +his face lengthen out when Allen and Waite romped in, first and second +in the "quarter." It was "dollars to doughnuts" he would have made a +strong third or better, and I saw he thought so himself, although he +said nothing.</p> + +<p>We had just won a first and third in the high jump, and I was feeling a +little better when the men were called for the "half." I met Teddy in +the middle of the field, and walked along with him to the start. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +looking very white and serious; but I said nothing at all to hearten +him, for I knew he was clear grit and did not want it.</p> + +<p>I did tell him that the race was more in his hands than Bates', and that +from those who knew he would receive all the credit of a win, if he +brought Bates in first. He said not a word in answer, only nodded his +head, threw me his wrap, and went to the mark.</p> + +<p>As the numbers were being called, I had a chance to look around me. +There was the usual crowd inside the ring, the officials, the reporters, +and those infernal nuisances the men with a pull, who do nothing, and +interfere with all who have duties to perform.</p> + +<p>The grand stand was right in front of me, spread like the tail of a huge +peacock, and a perfect riot of color, for every second person was a +lady, and what better opportunity than this to wear what was loud and +bright? As my eye wandered over the crowd, I began to pick out familiar +faces, for I have a keen sight for a friend.</p> + +<p>There was Jack Hart and Tom Finlay, two of my old boys, sitting +together, one of them from Denver, and the other professor in a Maine +college; there was Dr. Gorden a bit lower, and Fred Tillotson with his +pretty wife; there was Charlie Thomas with a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> fellow in a +sweater, evidently a dead game sport already, and a chip of the old +block, for his face is red with excitement, and his eyes like saucers +with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>I was taking my eyes away to look at the men, when they fastened on a +figure a few rows from the top. It was that of one of the most striking +girls I have ever seen, as perfect a blonde as even Old England could +show, and with a very British air of reserve, despite the excitement +around her. She was a marvel,—tall and well-developed, groomed and +gowned to the dot. I could see she was looking straight at Teddy in the +calmest style imaginable, but still rather surprised that he did not +return her glance.</p> + +<p>But Teddy had for the moment quite forgotten her. He was bent over his +mark, his eyes straight ahead, ready for the first sound of the pistol, +for his instructions were to take the lead from the beginning.</p> + +<p>There was a strapping field of a dozen or more, but most of the others +were prepared to take the customary start for a "half"—easy away, and +fast work when heart and lungs had worked up to it.</p> + +<p>"Marks! Set!" the crack of the pistol, and Teddy shot out as if for a +sprint, slowing immediately, however, when he had taken his place.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bates pulled out of the ruck at the turn, and fell in behind him, +following orders. Round the track they swung, stringing out, one and +another coming up and going back as if on wires, but Teddy and Bates +holding the lead. My watch showed fifty-eight and three-quarters as they +finished the first lap, a beautiful performance on Teddy's part, though +I had expected it, for he was a connoisseur on time, if I ever saw one.</p> + +<p>There followed them over, and close up, a cadaverous-looking man from +one of the minor colleges, whose style I did not like, but who was going +very strong, and whom I might have thought dangerous had I not been told +he never finished. Sherman was twenty-five yards back, in the rear of +the lot, and running in a very hopeless fashion.</p> + +<p>I was relieved to see how well Teddy did his work, and noticed the +slight flush on his cheeks as he passed.</p> + +<p>I could see that Mollie Kittredge too had a little added color in her +cheeks, but in no other way did she show any particular interest in the +race.</p> + +<p>For the first half of the second lap our programme was followed out all +right, Atherton still leading at a lively clip, Bates right at his +heels, and the tall outsider barely holding his own.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the unexpected happened. Bates began to show signs of tiring, fell +back inch by inch, and the tall outsider came up at the same rate. Just +before the lower turn they got together, and there was a short struggle; +but Bates was as arrant a cur as ever wore a shoe, and he yielded the +place, though he had strength enough to run another lap, had he the +heart to go with it.</p> + +<p>Teddy was, perhaps, five yards to the good when he swung into the +stretch, and looked over his shoulder, expecting to see his college mate +close up and ready to take up the running. Instead, he saw an unexpected +contestant, coming fast, and Bates was full five yards behind, slowing, +and evidently out of it.</p> + +<p>Now Atherton was, of course, well-nigh spent; he had followed +instructions to the dot, and was not expected to finish.</p> + +<p>There was a half-second's hesitation and a look of fear; but as quick as +he realized the conditions, the little fellow swung his face to the +front and set his teeth with the evident determination of making a fight +for the race.</p> + +<p>A mighty cheer went up from the spectators, for Teddy had many friends, +and the whole college knew under what circumstances he was running; but +I doubt if he heard anything but the crunch, crunch, crunch of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +swift feet behind him. I knew it was a hopeless task, for his opponent +was fresh as paint, and full of running. Gradually his longer stride +drew him up, but when he tried to pass, Teddy still had a word to say, +and met him with the most stubborn resistance. He was almost gone, his +face white as death, his eyes glazed, and he kept his speed only by +sheer force of will.</p> + +<p>Somehow, I know not how, for I could hardly have taken my eyes from the +runners, I knew that Mollie Kittredge was on her feet with a look of +horror in her face.</p> + +<p>Down the stretch they came, the little fellow with the drawn cheeks, and +his opponent tall and strong and confident. Side by side they came, +neither gaining, until perhaps fifteen yards from the finish, when the +big fellow shot by.</p> + +<p>Teddy staggered on, but lurched forward, and fell, a few feet short of +the line, just as the winner broke the tape.</p> + +<p>He fell without an effort to save himself, plowing through the cinders +with his white face. There was a convulsive struggle to crawl over, and +then he lay still, dead to the world, with one hand stretched out toward +the line.</p> + +<p>The half-dozen who finished ran by the motionless figure, and I was over +it a second after. Tom Furness was almost as soon as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> myself, and +together we lifted and placed it on the soft turf inside the track. We +were surrounded by a crowd of contestants and track officials, but a +cry, followed by a commotion in the grand stand, drew their attention, +and we were left alone.</p> + +<p>So full of agony was the cry, that I looked up myself, and was just in +time to see the statuesque Mollie throw up her hands and fall back in a +dead faint. Yes, blondes have hearts, after all.</p> + +<p>We were not much troubled by the crowd, for they thought it was only a +man "run out," and that he would be all right in a minute or two, and +walk off as well as ever.</p> + +<p>Alas! I knew better; it was a bad case, and I could find little sign of +life in the limp body. We made an effort to revive him, but Tom could +not get a drop from his flask through the clenched teeth, and one side +of the face was bleeding, where it had slid over the cinders. The crowd +was coming back, the spectators were beginning to notice us, so I told +Tom to take the legs, and I took the head and shoulders, and we started +for the dressing-rooms.</p> + +<p>A pathetically light weight was it, and I was heart-sick, for, though +one hand was over the heart, I could feel no motion through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> thin +jersey. "Doc" joined us at the door, and I was never so pleased to see +any one in my life, for I knew that he would do all that could be done, +and we need not experiment with some one we did not know.</p> + +<p>When we got into a quiet room we placed Teddy on a rubbing-couch, and +"Doc" immediately applied the most powerful remedies to revive him. They +were at first unsuccessful, but by hypodermic injections of strychnine +and brandy, the wearied heart and lungs were at last induced to start +feebly on their accustomed tasks.</p> + +<p>We were standing by the couch, watching the hint of color grow in the +boy's cheeks, when suddenly the limp figure made a convulsive effort +(consciousness taking up the thread where it had been broken, a few feet +short of the tape), and he almost lifted himself to his feet before we +could catch him. As he fell back in our arms, there came to his lips the +bright-red blood-spots, precursors of a fearful hemorrhage.</p> + +<p>It was almost impossible for us to check it, for the boy was delirious, +would not lie still, and kept saying in a determined way, "I will win! I +must win!"</p> + +<p>He would turn his head, and call, "Bates! Bates!" in a frenzy of fear +and disappointment. "Bates, where are you? My God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> where are you? I'm +sure I followed orders, and did not come too fast."</p> + +<p>Then he would find Bates, and say contentedly, "There you are, old man, +close up; I'll drop out now, I'm almost gone; push out and win."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he would discover it was the outsider, and would cry out with +fevered lips, and try to break away from us and run.</p> + +<p>Then he would lie still, but in his mind was going over the agony of the +finish again and again. He would turn to me and say excitedly, "You told +me I need not finish. I can't run the 'half,' and you know it. It's +dark, and they have run off with the tape. I finished long ago, and +still you make me run."</p> + +<p>Sometimes he would drop his hands and say despairingly, "I cannot do it, +I cannot reach the worsted; O God, I cannot!"</p> + +<p>Then he would discover Tom, who was almost as crazy as Teddy himself, +and had been utterly useless from the time the hemorrhage set in. He +would say to Tom, "Don't look at me like that, old man; I know I lost +the race, but I did my best, my very best, and ran clear out. Look at my +cheek, where I fell; you must see I was dead beat." He would try to +argue with Tom, who had not a word to say, except of sorrow and +self-reproach. He would look at Tom, and say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> "Perhaps you're right, +and I'll not complain, but why did you tell me to set pace, if you meant +to make me finish?" Or he would say over and over again, "I was not +strong enough; I did the best I could; I did the best I could."</p> + +<p>Indeed, he did not cease talking all the time we were with him, until he +was given opiates and taken to the hospital.</p> + +<p>Here he spent many weary weeks, and was only pulled through after the +most persistent care. But though he got on his feet again, he did not +fully recover, and even a long trip to the Bermudas did not get his +lungs in shape. He spent some months in Southern California, and settled +finally among the Carolina hills, the nearest point to his old New +England home, where he could expect to prolong his days.</p> + +<p>I have seen many gallant winners, many whose courage and determination +made them such; but when I tell the story that comes closest to my +heart, I tell of one a notch above them all. I tell of Teddy Atherton, +of his last "half" which he <i>lost</i>.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_HEAVY_BRIGADE" id="THE_CHARGE_OF_THE_HEAVY_BRIGADE"></a> +<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="600" height="145" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>There were three of us in my office at the gymnasium. It was late +afternoon of a February day. The hail was beating against my windows, +and a punching-bag was drumming the "devil's tattoo" in the next room. +There were all sorts of sounds outside, from the clatter of pulley +weights dropped on the floor to the steady tramp of the runner's feet on +the track overhead, but in my room a Sabbath stillness reigned.</p> + +<p>Fred Seever was perched on a chair in one corner ready dressed for +departure, and N. P. Sawyer, familiarly known as "Shack," sat on the +weighing scales clad only in trunks, jersey, and an air of melancholy. +It would not have been a comfortable seat for most anatomies, and the +metal work must have felt chilly; but Shack had eccentric tastes, and +never occupied a chair if he could find anything else to hold him.</p> + +<p>I had just remarked in the quietest manner possible, "It is pretty well +settled that Seever does not run this year." This was the cause of +Shack's melancholy and Seever's silence.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if that's the verdict," said Seever, with considerable heat for +one so quiet, "it's mighty hard lines, and a blooming hothouse plant it +makes of me. I've been planning the whole year to get back at the +Dutchman, and now at the last moment you say I don't start."</p> + +<p>"Yes," spoke up Shack, "you should get a glass case for the dear boy, +and put him in it, labelled 'Rare Specimen,' 'A Runner too Good to +Run.'" He followed up this ingenious suggestion by untangling his long +legs, rising slowly to his feet, and suddenly throwing a stray +boxing-glove which he had picked up from the floor, hitting the "Rare +Specimen" a blow in the short ribs that brought forth an involuntary +grunt. "By the way, Professor," he continued, "do you think it quite +safe for a little chap like me to toy with a sixteen-pound shot? +Mightn't I drop it on my precious toes some day?"</p> + +<p>"I've told you my reasons plainly enough," I answered, looking up from +my desk and laughing at big Shack in spite of myself. "You remember last +year. Seever went into this same 'mile handicap,' running from scratch. +There were thirty-odd entries, and he was blocked, elbowed, and pocketed +all the way through, getting a toss from Kitson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> in the last lap that +sent him rolling into a corner with skin enough off his knees to make +parchment for his diploma."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't hurt, though," argued Seever, "only sore for a few days."</p> + +<p>"'Twas luck that saved you then," I answered; "suppose you'd broken a +leg, as you might easily have done on that hardwood floor, where would +we have been at Mott Haven, with not a man jack of you good for +four-thirty?"</p> + +<p>"Give it up," said Shack. "Did you notice that the same field, too, let +the Dutchman through like a greased pig? Hartman had half a dozen club +mates in the lot, and as many more were quite willing to do all within +the law to keep a college man out of it."</p> + +<p>"Well," continued I, "Fred Seever is neither a wrestler nor a football +player. These indoor games are all right, and for the average man there +is no better place to learn quickness than in a mob of runners swinging +round the raised corners of a slippery board track. But Fred has had +experience enough, and is sure to appear on the cinder-path with the +warm spring days in good condition if left entirely to himself. In the +second place, he is too slender to take any chances."</p> + +<p>"Yes," interrupted Shack, "those pipe-stem legs are marked +'breakable.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>I concluded with, "The verdict is that, unless I have some good reason +to change my mind, Seever's name will certainly be scratched."</p> + +<p>At this there was a dead silence. Shack looked at Seever questioningly, +then shook his head, and began to whistle "Ben Bolt" in a particularly +dismal manner.</p> + +<p>When I found they had nothing more to say, I resumed my examination of +the list of entries to the first big "Indoor Athletic Games" of the +season. I had just received it from the "official handicapper," and was +considerably interested to find what my men had been given. They figured +in every handicap, and in the "forty-yard novice" there were no less +than fourteen of them, nearly all Freshmen, with two or three who would +show a turn of speed. There were a few I did not intend should run, +among them Seever, for the reasons I had already given.</p> + +<p>These games are a perfect godsend to a trainer, coming as they do at a +time when it is very hard to keep the men up to their work. The +gymnasium is indispensable in a country where from December to April the +cinder-path is either hard with frost or white with snow. But when a man +has done his fifteen minutes at the pulley weights for the hundredth +consecutive afternoon, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> finds the excitement of "One, two, three, +four, five, six," begins to pall on him, and by the last of February +even "practising starts" loses its charms. It is then the circuit of a +billiard-table becomes the favorite track work, and the digestion of a +good dinner the principal muscular exercise.</p> + +<p>I had checked off about half the names, finding few surprises, when the +quiet of my room was broken by the entrance of a dozen fellows who had +just learned of the arrival of the list. Did you ever hear the work of +that very conscientious gentleman the "official handicapper" discussed +by a crowd of contestants? Of half a dozen men perhaps one is pleased +and says so, two or three have no fault to find but do nevertheless +grumble out of principle, and the remainder "kick like veteran mules," +and blackguard in shameful fashion the man whose only sin has been to +overrate their abilities.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" cried Ferris, a high jumper, looking over my shoulder. "I +get only four inches, and Bob here gets six. That's highway robbery, and +I don't care who knows it. He did five-eight to my five-seven only +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Here's little Larry with five yards in the 'forty,'" spoke up Shack, +who had monopolized the view from my right side, his broad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> shoulders +shutting off all the rest; "the infant won't do a thing to them, will +he?"</p> + +<p>"What do you get yourself?" inquired Turner, who was bigger than Shack, +but not quite quick enough to get a place of vantage.</p> + +<p>"That's what I ought to be looking for," answered Shack, "but I always +think of others first. They'll put something of that kind on my +tombstone. Where's the 'shot'?" He ran his big finger down the page, +remarking meanwhile, "I gave Jones [the handicapper] a good cigar only +last week, and told him that I had not been myself the whole winter." +Shack said this with a deep sigh, as if he well knew he was threatened +with an early decline. "I expect to find nothing less than the same old +eight feet for yours truly." His finger suddenly stopped, as he said +this, and then straightening himself with an energy that sent two or +three men flying backward, he exclaimed: "Great Jupiter! Look at that! +Only look at that! And 'twas a good cigar too. He gives me just four +feet, the least of any of you, and Turner here, who tied me this +afternoon, gets the eight instead." At this there was a big laugh at +Shack, whose woes were a joke to all.</p> + +<p>Down the list they went until all were informed, and then they gradually +sifted out, leaving Seever and Shack still with me. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> could not +understand why they stayed, for they knew well enough that further +argument would be useless; but I paid no attention to them, going on +with my checking.</p> + +<p>The "mile handicap" was almost the last event. I crossed out Seever's +name, which figured alone at "scratch," saw that Hartman had his +twenty-five yards, the same as last year, marked off Root at fifty and +Murphy at seventy yards, and then suddenly discovered, just below, the +names of G. Turner and N. P. Sawyer with the same allowances. To say I +was surprised would but faintly express my feeling, as Turner was a shot +and hammer man who had played football, weighed nearly one hundred and +ninety pounds, and had never to my knowledge run a yard on a track in +his life. N. P. Sawyer was the seldom used patronymic of Shack, who had +resumed his seat on the scales in the corner, and was evidently by his +air of expectancy waiting for an explosion. I had sent in neither name, +and was utterly at sea regarding the whole affair.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sawyer," said I, turning rather abruptly toward him, "what does +this mean?"</p> + +<p>"Simply this," replied Shack, very frankly, as if he had expected the +question and had his answer ready,—"simply this, that I thought we +would pay the devil in his own coin, and give Hartman and his +fellow-pirates of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> the 'Rowing Club' a taste of their medicine; let the +Dutchman carom against Turner and myself a few times, permit Kitson to +enjoy the experience of a tumble like that he gave Fred last year, and +carry the latter bit of 'rare porcelain' through the mob without getting +chipped."</p> + +<p>"A very pretty plan," I remarked sarcastically, "but why was I not +consulted in the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Simply because we were doubtful of your consent, and wished to get as +far along as possible before we had our little talk with you."</p> + +<p>"Of course," remarked Seever, "we knew you would have the final word to +say, but we thought you would prefer not to have the plan yours, and to +be able to say that you did not even send in the entries."</p> + +<p>"That was certainly very thoughtful of you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," interposed Shack, "there is a remote chance of a little 'shindy' +when the 'Heavy Brigade' gets well started."</p> + +<p>"If you and Turner are mixed up in it, I should think the chances +considerably more than even," I remarked; "but why in the world did two +ice-wagons like you and Turner go into it? You can neither of you run a +mile in ten minutes."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ten minutes," cried Shack. "We'll let you hold a watch over us and see. +You said just now that Seever was neither a wrestler nor a football +player. Well, this is, you admit, something of a football game, and we +have a football aggregation for it. Root is in it too. He played 'left +half,' Turner 'right,' and I 'full back' on the team all last fall. Root +has been doing the mile for a couple of years, and is a fair performer. +Turner is a mighty fast man for his weight, and can go the distance. As +for myself, although my well-known modesty shrinks at the assertion, I +am a 'crack-a-Jack' at any distance from one hundred yards to ten miles. +I am indeed. With a seventy-yard handicap Seever has no show with me. I +thought we three could do the trick nicely with a little of the +interference we worked up together and found mighty useful on the +'gridiron.'"</p> + +<p>"That's your plan, is it?" I asked. "Well, 'tis as crazy as its maker, +which is saying a great deal."</p> + +<p>At this there was silence again, Seever twirling his thumbs, and Shack +running his fingers through his mop of hair in a hopeless fashion.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure, however, but that with some modification I shall let you +try it." At this Seever looked a shade less discouraged,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> and Shack gave +a broad smile of triumph, and then listened with much seriousness as I +said, "In the first place, there must be no interference with Hartman; +do you promise this?"</p> + +<p>"We do," answered Shack, who was quite willing to make any condition if +Seever could be allowed to run.</p> + +<p>"In the second place, you must make pace for Seever as decently as +possible, and not one of you catch a judge's eye."</p> + +<p>"We swear it," replied Shack, raising his big hand solemnly above his +head.</p> + +<p>"All right; if you will look out for these things I will let you try. It +is time something was done, and even an extreme step like this may be +the means of straightening matters out."</p> + +<p>We talked the affair over for some time together, and when we parted our +plans were well matured. I found that Root, Turner, and Shack had been +training carefully for several weeks with this in view. They had all +done the "mile" in fair time, although the last "quarter" was something +of a task for big Turner. Shack, however, very much to my surprise, +showed me a performance on the short gymnasium track that proved with +seventy yards' start no one on earth could catch him, and the event was +simply at his mercy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> Seever begged him to go in for himself and pull +the thing off, and I advised the same; but this did not tempt Shack at +all.</p> + +<p>"I had rather see Fred beat out the Dutchman than to win a dozen races," +he declared, rubbing his hands.</p> + +<p>So the affair was settled. I gave him a careful trial a few nights +before the "games," and decided that Hartman with his first mate Kitson +and his "fellow pirates," as Shack called them, were likely to find +rough sailing on Saturday night.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>There is an almost endless variety in outdoor games. The weather +conditions alone are enough to make each day stand out by itself. Cloud +and sunshine, heat and cold, wind and calm, not to speak of the +occasional smart shower at about five o'clock when interest is at its +height, make an almost limitless combination.</p> + +<p>There is none of this diversity to indoor games. The track is neither +fast nor heavy, and the boards are no softer on one evening than +another. The temperature is always a bit too high for comfort, the air +too close for laboring lungs, and the same bright light glares on all. +There may of course be something in the games themselves to make them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +noteworthy, and those of February, 189-, I shall always remember through +the charge of the "Heavy Brigade," so called by Shack, who claimed it +quite outclassed the performance of the "Light Brigade," because the +danger was greater and there were no dead nor wounded.</p> + +<p>When I arrived at the "hall" at a little after seven o'clock, they were +preparing to start the preliminary heats of the "forty-yard novice," a +weeding-out process quite necessary, but not particularly exciting. The +"clerk of the course" was calling off the names of the contestants, and +nearly a hundred young fellows were gathered around him, answering one +after the other, as he checked off the list. Some were hidden from +shoulder to toe by voluminous wraps, some wore sweaters of various +shapes and colors, and some were clad only in jersey, trunks, and +running shoes. The officials, who wore their badges and an air of +<i>blasé</i> indifference to distinguish them from common mortals, were much +in evidence, and a good-sized squad of carpenters and helpers were +busying themselves around the track.</p> + +<p>The men on the floor far outnumbered the spectators, who as a rule were +content to wait for the semi-finals at eight o'clock and enjoy an +unhurried dinner meanwhile. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> were a few boys in the gallery, here +and there a little bunch of a half-dozen or so in the seats surrounding +the track, and on the platform only two pretty girls occupied seats on +the very back row, who were anxious to see somebody win his heat,—a +brother perhaps.</p> + +<p>In a far corner of the gallery the musicians were arriving. They would +not begin to play for some time, however, and meanwhile the high walls +echoed to every sound, and the long strips of bunting hanging from the +ceiling waved slowly with the wind from the open windows.</p> + +<p>I could see among the crowd of contestants who gathered around the white +lines at the start several boys in whom I was interested; but I had +nothing to say to them, and went over to the opposite corner, where the +judges clustered around the finish posts. The red worsted was waiting +for its first break, and beyond, hung against the walls, were the +mattresses to catch the sprinter unable to check his speed. On one side +were the hurdles in a long row ready to be pushed into place. In a third +corner was the seven-foot circle with its raised cleat for the "shot +put," and the last triangle was occupied by the standards and cross bar +for the "high jump." The movable platforms for the raised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> corners were +in two sections, and pulled apart so as not to interfere with the +"dash."</p> + +<p>I had only time for a word or two, a nod here and a handshake there, +when, at a sign from the starter, the judges took their places, and the +timekeepers stood with watch in hand ready to record the flying fifth +seconds. I could look along the smooth floor and see the men take their +places. There was Downer, a little Freshman, white with the excitement +of his first public performance. He was a nervous chap, and one of my +most promising men. Up goes the starter's hand, "Marks," "Set," the +report of the pistol, and out of the circling crowd break the five +struggling forms. There is the beat of eager feet, one, two, three, +four, and between the posts they dash, little Downer coming away in the +last few strides. "Thud" he goes against the mattress; "thud," "thud," +"thud," "thud," go the other four, and the first heat is over. As they +come back, the judges check off the "37" from Downer's back, his +nervousness all gone, and in its place a confidence for which there is +as little excuse.</p> + +<p>There were a score of heats varying little from this, as many more in +the "forty-yard handicap," and when they were finished nearly every seat +in the building was taken, and the platform had blossomed out like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +bank of flowers with the bright colors which the ladies wore. Now the +band starts up with a swinging "March," and everything takes on a new +life.</p> + +<p>In the next two hours there was nothing particularly worth recording. +Shack won the "shot put" in spite of the four feet about which he had +complained so loudly, thus proving the astuteness of the much maligned +"handicapper." Sawyer came to me with Root and Turner just before the +"mile" was called, his long wrap dangling loose around his heels, and a +broad grin on his face. He answered my inquiry as to whether everything +was all right with an expressive nod, and then quoted a line or two from +some pathetic ballad in which the horrors of a death on the battle-field +were vividly depicted. He called off the roll very solemnly. Root and +Turner answering to their names, he told them to look to their +accoutrements, to tighten their horses' girths, and when the starter +sent them to their places, he gave the order to "saddle" with great +seriousness, leaving me with a step or two in imitation of a +particularly clumsy charger.</p> + +<p>He was fixed with Turner at the seventy-yard mark, among a crowd of a +score of limit men. When they took their places, Shack was well outside +in the first row, and Turner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> well inside on the second. Root was twenty +yards back with another smaller knot of men at the fifty-yard mark, and +there were half a dozen at the thirty-five.</p> + +<p>Fritz Hartman was alone on the twenty-five-yard line, and Seever stood +by himself at "scratch." Fritz was a well put together little chap, with +curly yellow hair, round face, and a great favorite with the gallery and +the "Rowing Club." There were a half dozen of the latter among the +contestants, all of them showing the crossed oars on the breasts of +their jerseys. Seever was almost as fair as the Dutchman, but he was a +bit browner, his hair was darker without the curl, and he stood at least +three inches taller. He kept his wrap on until the last moment, taking +no chances with a draft of cool air which blew from an open window +behind him. I knew there was nothing to be said to him, for he knew his +business perfectly, but took my position near the limit men, who were +having considerable fun with Shack and Turner.</p> + +<p>One little fellow told Shack he would be quite a sprinter when he "got +his growth." And Shack confessed he did not feel quite strong enough for +the distance. When Turner pulled off his sweater, revealing his enormous +shoulders and chest, he did appear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> a bit out of place among the lighter +men around him. One of them said Turner was in good shape, but a "bit +fine," and asked if he had not done a "trifle too much work." Another +declared that Shack was so wide, he blocked the whole track. There +seemed to be an impression that the two big fellows had gone in for a +lark, or with the idea of settling who was the best at the distance, and +with no idea of winning. Of the real plan of the "Heavy Brigade" there +was no sign that any one had the least suspicion.</p> + +<p>There was some cheering from the galleries for Hartman when he took his +place, and when Seever threw off his wrap there came a little burst of +applause from the spectators on the platform, and from the seats which +circled the track.</p> + +<p>Many remembered Seever's nasty fall of the previous year, and it was +pretty well surmised that he meant to make a mighty hard try to win +where he had failed before. Indeed, by that peculiar telegraphy which +runs through a large crowd, almost every one knew that the "mile" was to +be the event of the evening. Seever was a fine sight in his spotless +running suit, his arms a bit slender, not an ounce of useless weight +above the belt, and his legs long and lithe as a greyhound's. He might +not be a "hothouse plant," but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> was certainly not qualified to join +the ranks of the "Heavy Brigade."</p> + +<p>The band stops in the middle of a bar at a signal from the "announcer," +while he calls out the winners of the "high jump" in stentorian tones. +Then comes almost perfect silence as the thirty-odd men bend over their +marks, and are off with the sound of the pistol. They make a noise like +a heavy freight-train, and when the limit men strike the first corner it +was a case of the "ready shoulder" and "useful elbow," sure enough. +Three or four went down, sliding along the smooth boards. A couple were +up almost without loss, but one of them has enough and goes limping off +the track. Big Turner, despite his football experience, almost comes to +grief, for he had a man right under his feet; he staggers through, +however, with a plunge that sends another man to the edge of the track, +and is by Shack's side a moment later. Of course anything with a pair of +legs can run a single lap at the speed with which the best of them start +out who mean to finish in good time. The first lap showed few changes, +except that the whole lot had strung out in a long procession, first one +and then another coming up or going back, but with no very radical +changes. There were a couple of fellows with no idea of pace who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +started from limit as if they had a hundred yards only before them, and +who came up close to Seever, who was in no hurry yet.</p> + +<p>In the second lap Hartman began to draw away, and at the end of the +third passed a man or two and came up to a little bunch of nine or ten +close together. Root was among them, and made a little spurt as Fritz +went by; but the rest opened a gap like a barn door, through which the +Dutchman slipped with ease, and set out for those ahead.</p> + +<p>"That was very pretty," said I to myself; "now we will see if Seever +gets the same chance." Fred, who had now struck his gait, and got his +heart and lungs in good working order, quickening his stride, passed a +few stragglers almost before they saw him, and came up to the same bunch +through which Hartman had gone so easily. He trailed after them a +little, and then swung wide to go by on the outside; but a stout fellow +with the crossed oars on his breast went with him, his right arm well +out, and his elbows up, taking Seever almost to the rail. The latter was +forced back again, and in the straight tried to slip through a promising +gap, but they put the bars up as he came along, and he found himself, +despite his best efforts, nicely pocketed at this early stage of the +game. There was considerable indication of disapproval<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> from the +audience, and some hisses; but there was Seever, sure enough, "in +Coventry" and no mistake.</p> + +<p>All this time Shack and Turner were running easily, and they now began +to slip back faster still among the tail-enders, being joined by Root on +the way. When Seever found himself blocked, he slowed a little, +according to instructions, and a second or two later the three men came +back, and led him with Shack first, Root second, and Turner just ahead. +Then, as if a trumpet had been blown, the "Heavy Brigade" swung into +position something like the letter "V," with Shack at the apex, Root a +little back and outside, and Turner in the same relative position on the +inside. There was nothing at all conspicuous about all this, and I doubt +if any one noticed it but myself. Seever now came up a little, and took +his place behind the "troop." They ran in this way for a few strides, +and then, as if the order to charge had been given, the "Heavy Brigade" +started at speed.</p> + +<p>I held my breath a bit as they came up to the bunch which had blocked +Seever a moment before. Shack tried to swing wide, but again the stout +fellow with the crossed oars came out, and with him a couple of others. +Then Shack came in a little, chose a place where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> there was a small gap, +the trio "hit her up," and went through the crowd like a particularly +powerful snow-plough. The stout fellow tried to swing in, but he could +make no more impression against Shack than a stone-wall, and when he +bumped back against Root the latter worthy sent him to the rear. Turner +took care of his corner without a stagger. It was a mighty neat +performance, for no one was taken off his feet, though several had been +thrown out of their strides when the "Brigade" cut through. The audience +cheered as Seever swung by, and set out behind his body-guard at a pace +that meant mischief to some one. They had all been running easily, and +now they passed one contestant after another until they came to a second +bunch a bit more solid than the first.</p> + +<p>Shack trailed them for a half lap; looking in vain for an opening, he +swung wide, he made a try for the inside, he stepped this way and that, +and then suddenly, as if at the touch of the spur, the "Heavies" cut +into the line in front where it was weakest. There was no opening; so +Shack selected a little fellow in the middle, and ran right over him, +taking pains to send him wide out of Seever's way. Root had little +trouble, but Turner found himself in an awful hole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>. I could see his +huge shoulder as he forced through, and at one time I thought he was +surely down, but he came through a little behind the rest, puffing like +a grampus. He was strong and game, however, and a moment later was in +his place again, although far from comfortable.</p> + +<p>The audience was now on its feet, for there were but a couple of laps +left, and the real race was now to come. Half of the starters had +dropped out, half of the remainder were hopelessly trailed, and the +leaders were close together. Hartman had perhaps ten yards over Kitson, +and about the same distance back were the "Heavies," with Seever close +up. This latter "piece of rare porcelain," as Shack called him, had been +taken through without a touch and was running as if on eggs. They pulled +Kitson back fast, and caught him at the last corner. He was a tall +fellow with a closely shaven head, who was a runner, sure enough, and +used his arms almost as much as his legs. It was almost impossible for a +light man to get by him on a narrow board track.</p> + +<p>Just what he tried to do I never discovered, for the crowd of +contestants inside the track were all huddled together and partly hid my +view. All I am sure of is that the man with the "useful elbow" suddenly +performed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> parabola of surpassing splendor, and landed in a very dazed +condition between the knees of a fat man in the front row of spectators.</p> + +<p>Kitson had no sooner been put out of danger than Root and Shack swung +wide, and Turner also stepped out of the way, falling among the crowd +inside the track pretty well run out, and Seever came through and set +out for Hartman like the "Headless Horseman."</p> + +<p>The Dutchman ran as if the famous spectre of Sleepy Hollow was indeed +after him, but Seever was as fresh as paint and would not be denied. +Foot by foot he gained, and passing him at the last corner broke the +tape a comfortable winner by a couple of yards.</p> + +<p>Of course he received plenty of acknowledgment for his plucky race, but +not half the applause that came to Shack, the doughty leader of the +"Heavy Brigade," who came romping in third, with a grin on his face like +the first quarter of a harvest moon.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="A_VIRGINIA_JUMPER" id="A_VIRGINIA_JUMPER"></a> +<img src="images/ill_009.jpg" width="600" height="117" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>I remember it was on a Monday morning that I sat in my office at the +gymnasium, opening a three-days' mail. I had been out of town, and found +quite a formidable accumulation of letters on my desk.</p> + +<p>It was early, not later than eight o'clock. The November sun was +shining, and the woodbine that framed the eastern window was blazing +almost as brightly as the fire in the grate. It was all very cheerful. I +was glad to get back again, and with an old cricket jacket around my +shoulders I set myself to clean up the arrears of work.</p> + +<p>I always handle my mail on the principle of elimination; that is, I +first open the unsealed envelopes containing circulars, then those of +apparently little consequence, and so on down to the most interesting +and important. Of course I sometimes make mistakes, but not very often. +I distinctly remember that on that day an envelope with a black border +was saved for the very last. The postmark was illegible, and it was +addressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> to me in a particularly old-fashioned and graceful hand.</p> + +<p>When at last I broke the seal, I found its contents as follows:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Oaks, Fairfax Co., Va</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I am desirous that my son may win distinction in some +form of athletic sport. I understand that you have charge of the +instruction in this department. It is my wish that he be given +especial training in that exercise to which he is best adapted. I +have already advised him concerning my plan. I write you also, +because he has unfortunately little ambition in this direction, +and I must ask that he be given particular care and attention. I +shall be pleased to have you send me the customary bill for such +extra work. My son comes of a family renowned for strength and +vigor, and should be able to surpass all competitors. I should +consider a second place no better than absolute failure. Asking +your serious consideration of the above, I am,</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Sincerely yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 36em;"><span class="smcap">Margaret Lee Fairfax</span>.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">To Mr. Walter Brown</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Now, I have received a great many letters concerning athletic matters in +my time, but few more interesting than this. Concealed under a very +matter-of-fact speech and manner, there is in me a vein of the +imaginative which I occasionally indulge. Sometimes a very small matter +will be enough to send me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> on a very wild flight. I remember that I read +the letter with the black border again and again, trying to picture to +myself the one who wrote it. There were nine sentences, and six of them +beginning with the "I,"—evidently a woman of strong personality. "I am +desirous," "It is my wish," certainly indicated one accustomed to have +her inclinations respected. "He comes of a family renowned for strength +and vigor, and should be able to surpass all competitors," plainly +showed a woman proud of her birth, and ambitious for success. A +Virginian, a Fairfax. I made a mind picture of her as she wrote the +letter, sitting in a cool and shaded room in one of those +white-pillared, wide-halled mansions, built a century ago among the +oaks. She was dressed in black, her figure tall and slender, her back +straight and her head well poised. Her hair had a few threads of white +in it, but a hint of color still showed in her cheeks, and the light had +not yet gone out of her dark eyes. Her mouth I pictured a trifle +thin-lipped and positive. At an old mahogany desk with big brass +escutcheons she sat, the magnolias' heavy fragrance in the air, the song +of the darkies sounding faintly from the distant fields. This is the +picture I made on that November morning, and how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> long I should have +dreamed I cannot say, had not Paddy's voice from under my window waked +me from my trance, with "Jerry, ye Kildare divil, luk at the rake ye +lift out the night; it's half a mind I hev to comb yer thick hid wid +it."</p> + +<p>Jerry protested his innocence in tones only less strident than Paddy's +own, and the remarkably fluent and aggressive tirade of the latter was +only lost to me when they had walked down the track and out of ear-shot.</p> + +<p>Now, I defy any one to make mind pictures under such conditions, and I +became my practical self at once. I shut off the romantic stop with a +thud, and turning on the business pipe, proceeded to answer my mail. +Most of the circulars went into the waste basket; receipted bills into +one compartment, unpaid into another. I answered a few of the routine +letters, and then oddly enough I broke my rule, and took up the +black-bordered letter again.</p> + +<p>Who was this candidate for athletic fame? His name was not even +mentioned in the letter. Evidently the son of Margaret Lee Fairfax was +supposed to be too well known to need any further title. A reference to +my list gave me among the freshmen, "Richard Spotswood Fairfax, The +Oaks, Fairfax Co., Va.," but this did not help me at all. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> had +certainly not appeared on track or field, or I should have remembered +him, and he had even neglected a physical examination. He was probably +bandy-legged, big-waisted, round-shouldered, and hollow-chested. He +might be a sufferer from dyspepsia and heart disease; there were chances +that he had a fancy for Greek roots, and thought football brutal. I have +been asked by doting parents to make champion sprinters and weight +putters out of just such timber,—although the age of miracles is past.</p> + +<p>I had a conventional way of answering such letters, and prepared to go +through the usual forms. A modest request it was indeed! "I should +consider a second place no better than absolute failure." Little did she +realize what a combination of excellences go to make up a winner, nor +how many good men train faithfully for four years without getting a +place.</p> + +<p>Give him "especial care and attention"? Well, hardly, if he does not +care enough about himself even to have his chart made out.</p> + +<p>I had taken the sheet of paper and written the "Dear Madam," when there +came a knock at the door, and at my "Come in," it swung leisurely open. +Just how I came to the conclusion I cannot tell, but I knew the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> first +moment I set eyes on my visitor that it was Richard Spotswood Fairfax +himself. He was not at all the monstrosity I had painted him; in fact, +he was a mighty good-looking fellow. He was a little above average +height, with a dark oval face, brown hair, and a wide smile that "wud +timpt a man to borry a dollar," as Paddy once said. His tailor knew his +business, though his suit of brown tweed fitted a trifle more loosely +than our Northern style would have permitted. He also wore a low +roll-collar, that showed a firm, round neck to advantage. He smiled when +he entered, and sank into a chair by the side of my desk with a sigh of +content and another smile. He was in no hurry to speak, and as I learned +after was never in a hurry to do anything. He looked me over a moment +with his handsome sleepy blue eyes, and then spoke in that melodious +drawl which is taught nowhere else but in "ole Virginny." I do not +remember how he introduced the subject, for I was too much taken with +his voice to notice. I cannot begin to describe it, or the easy way in +which the words followed each other, divorced from all such aggressive +letters as <i>r</i>, <i>g</i>, and <i>t</i>.</p> + +<p>He told me he wished to be examined, and assigned some branch of sport +to which he could give his attention; in effect, just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> what his mother +had written, except that he omitted to say anything about winning or a +first place. I asked him if he had ever done anything in athletics, and +he said that barring a little gunning, a moderate amount of riding, and +considerable fishing, he had done nothing at all in sports. He expressed +a decided preference for the fishing, which I thought was +characteristic.</p> + +<p>To my question as to whether he had any choice whatever concerning work +on track or cinder-path, he answered, none at all, except that which +called for the least exertion would best suit his book. I decided that +his mother had written truly when she said he "lacked ambition in this +direction," and might have said that he lacked ambition in any other. It +was surprising that I did not take a dislike to one who professed such a +decided aversion to manly sports, but the boy was so open and frank +about it that the impression was not at all disagreeable.</p> + +<p>After Fairfax had told his story and answered a few questions, I ordered +him in a short, Yankee fashion (that seemed almost brutal compared with +his easy tones) to strip and I would take his measurements. At my +direction he rose slowly, went over to the corner, leisurely took off +coat and vest, and when he got down to the buff, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> looked up from +my writing, as I live, I had answered three letters, and the clock had +ticked off a full five minutes. (Two is usually enough to transform a +shackled slave of Fashion to the freedom of a state of nature.) I laid +my pen aside, and taking tape in hand began to look him over. I confess +I could hardly restrain an exclamation of surprise. His languid ways and +slow movements had not prepared me for any such development as he +showed. The conventional costume of the nineteenth century is a +wonderful disguise, designed by some man-milliner to hide the +imperfections of a degenerate race. The trained athlete and the flabby +dude look much alike in loose trousers and padded coats.</p> + +<p>Now, Dick was neither athlete nor dude, though if I ever saw a man cut +out for the former, he was the one. His skin was dark, but clear and +velvety. He stood easily, with every muscle relaxed, and was as +symmetrical as a demi-god. There was nothing out of proportion, no fat, +no unused muscle, and no over-development. Indeed, I surmised, what +afterward proved true, that he was the best specimen of an embryo +athlete that it had ever been my good fortune to see.</p> + +<p>I took him to the standard and found his height five feet ten and +one-half inches. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> lifted the scales at one hundred and fifty-eight, +and then I put my tape on him and began my measurements. As I marked +down one after another my admiration grew, and when I had finished and +he had dressed and left me, I could not deny myself the pleasure of +making out his chart, even before I finished the mail. A wonderful chart +it was, too. The average percentage was not as high as that of one or +two fellows who had the advantages of intelligent handling by good men +at first-class preparatory schools, but when it came to symmetrical +development, there was not one in the same class with him. The line was +almost straight, a slight advantage only showing in measurements below +the waist.</p> + +<p>After the chart was finished I put it in a conspicuous place on the +mantel, went back to my letters, and finally wrote Mrs. Fairfax as +follows: "I shall be pleased to give your son the attention you ask. +Although it is impossible to guarantee any degree of success, he has the +advantage of an unusually good development, and may make something of +himself if he is willing to work faithfully and follow orders. It rests +more with him than myself. There will be no extra charge."</p> + +<p>It may seem rather a curt letter, but compared with what I usually write +in answer to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> like requests it was remarkably "Chesterfieldian." Not +that I am ever likely to so far forget myself as to neglect the common +courtesies, but it is often necessary to be very positive in order to +protect against further annoyance. I received an acknowledgment from +"The Oaks" a few days after, which was not quite as dictatorial as the +first, and in which the "I" was not nearly so much in evidence. It also +asked me to report occasionally, and hinted that maternal authority +might be invoked in case of difficulty, and that Richard Spotswood +Fairfax had been taught to respect it thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Dick appeared on the cinder-path the second day after his call on me, +clad in irreproachable track costume, and I gave him a little trial with +some of the other freshmen who had been out several weeks. He had never +worn a running-shoe before that day, nor entered a contest, and yet he +ran the "hundred" in eleven and three-fifths, and the "quarter" a little +under the minute, coming in as fresh as paint, and without turning a +hair. It was odd to see him standing with a half-dozen other fellows, +who were drenched with perspiration, and wheezing like blacksmiths' +bellows, while he was not even tired.</p> + +<p>The next day he cleared four feet eleven in the "running high," and +nearly seventeen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> in the "running broad." Now, these were wonderful +performances for a novice, particularly as Dick seemed not to exert +himself in the least.</p> + +<p>That night, as I sat in my room smoking a comforting pipe, I thought the +matter over very thoroughly. I am a shy bird for "wonders," and doubtful +concerning "phenoms," but I made up my mind in cold blood that almost +anything was possible for Richard Spotswood Fairfax, of "The Oaks." With +the advantages of my handling, he ought to be a world beater, and no +mistake. As Tom Furness expresses a good thing, "There was frosting on +top, and jelly between the layers."</p> + +<p>Of course I said nothing of this to Dick, but ordered him regular +all-round work in the gymnasium for the winter, and told him if he took +good care of himself, we might make something of him in the spring. In +those days we had no big indoor meets, and the men were allowed to do +very much as they pleased until near the end of the winter. I am of the +opinion that such rest is better in the end than a continuous course of +training, particularly for men under twenty-one.</p> + +<p>I saw considerable of Dick, and was well satisfied to have him keep to +easy exercise. He filled out a bit, and the muscles on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> shapely body +grew large and firm as the days went by. I was a bit troubled by the +boy's extreme popularity, for it brought continual temptation to shirk +work. Some one or another was perpetually asking him away, when if he +had possessed fewer friends, he would have been less troubled. He was a +mighty fine-looking fellow, and with an unlimited fund of good nature +and good cash (two most essential passports to college popularity), +spring found him the best known and best liked man of his class, a +favorite with man, woman, and beast. He had stuck to his work most +faithfully, and barring a little fling or so, such as all boys of his +age are likely to take, I had little fault to find with him. I remember +I expressed one day my surprise that he had not missed his hour in the +gymnasium more than once or twice since he started in, and was told, as +if the answer was conclusive, that he had given his promise. He also +added later that a Fairfax never broke his word, even in the least +degree.</p> + +<p>One common difficulty I escaped with Dick, that of keeping him from the +football field, the grave for the hopes of so many a promising athlete. +Dick pronounced the game altogether too much like work to suit him, and +no entreaty would move him in the least;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> not even the plea that he was +"needed," or the threat that he would be considered disloyal to his +class, had any effect whatever on him.</p> + +<p>Now, it must not be thought for a moment that I object to football in +its proper place. It is the king of sports, and stands by itself, +unrivalled in its attractions for all of Anglo-Saxon blood. It is the +best successor to the knightly tourney that this prosaic century has +left us. Neither an occasional accident, nor the foolishness of some of +its supporters, with excuses for defeat, nor demands for apologies, will +ever succeed in killing it.</p> + +<p>The game is made, however, only for strong, stocky men. To see one with +a turn of speed, long, shapely legs, and slender body mixed up in a +scrimmage, and sure to end in the hospital at last, is more than I can +stand. It should not take those unfitted for its fierce struggles, but +qualified by nature for other forms of sport.</p> + +<p>After considerable thought I decided to have Dick try for the running +broad jump, and for these reasons: First, the team was weak in this +department. Second, this was a trifle his best performance. Third, Dick +chose it, as calling for the least labor. Indeed, he absolutely declined +distant running, unless he was bound to it by his promise to his +mother.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>So Dick settled down to regular work and practice at the "running +broad," and appeared each day as surely as the clock struck the hour; +not even Frost, a veteran of four years, was as much to be depended on.</p> + +<p>Now, there is no more practical school than that of the cinder-path; +with given athletic material, a certain amount of work should bring +exact results. We look for them just as confidently as the farmer looks +for his crops in the autumn, after the planting of the spring and the +cultivation of the summer. There may be accidents, just as the farmer +has a hail-storm, or like fruit under an untimely frost a man may go +stale at the last moment. But, barring accidents, we expect a gradual +growth and development in just proportion to the natural ability of the +man.</p> + +<p>Now, strange to say, Dick Fairfax contradicted all known laws; his style +improved, and his physical condition as well, but his jump was the same +old jump after several weeks of practice. He worked up to an average of +nineteen-six, but there he stuck, and no handling, instruction, or care +could pull him on to the even twenty feet. Encouragement, blame, the +incentives of trial contests, and even ridicule were all the same to +Dick. I did all I knew,—and a bit well-informed I claimed to +be,—giving him more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> attention than any three other men. This was +partly because I liked the boy, and partly because I received a letter +from "The Oaks" once every week asking how Richard was getting on. I +have a decided aversion to lying, and I disliked to tell the truth to +the lonely woman who looked forward so confidently to her son's success. +But most of all I stuck to Dick because of the possibilities I saw in +him. His legs were marvels; from toe to thigh, muscle, sinew, and bone +were perfect. And yet Seever, with his crooked joints and spindle +shanks, could best Dick's best effort by a good foot. I racked my brain +for reasons of the failure, but with no result. I tried all possible +changes, even to a take-off with the left, but all in vain. Nineteen-six +he could do before or after breakfast, and probably at midnight, if +tried at that unusual hour. He was the most consistent performer I have +ever seen. The trouble was that it was consistency to a distance of no +use at all to us. Little Jack Bennett, who had started in with something +like a thirteen-foot jump, had plugged away day after day, until he was +"hoss and hoss" with Dick, and the latter was quite content. Approval or +disapproval were all the same to him, and he answered both with a smile, +or a careless glance from his sleepy blue eyes.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beside Dick and Jack there were Frost and Seever, two veterans who had +reached their limit, and were good for a scant twenty-one. We had not +one first-class man.</p> + +<p>Now, while I am telling this tale more particularly for the initiated, I +mean to make it plain to others less well informed, and will for their +sakes say that the honor of the broad jump championship is to-day +divided between Reber in America and Fry in the Old Country, both of +whom have negotiated twenty-three feet six and one-half inches. No one +jumping less than twenty-one feet has any chance in a first-class +competition, and it would have done us as much good if Dick had done +nine feet as nineteen; that is, no good at all.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fairfax reminded me in her first letter, after I had informed her +that Dick had chosen the "running broad" as his special event, that this +was a traditional Virginia sport, and she was pleased with the +selection. She called my attention to the fact that Thackeray in his +story of the "Virginians" makes Harry Warrington cover twenty-one feet +three inches against his English rivals, and says that Col. George +Washington could better this by a foot. Now, if this is history, and the +truthful George did the distance with a short run on grass, and no +take-off but a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> line on the turf, he was a wonder, and better than any +we can show to-day. If Reber and Fry had lived in his time they would +not have been in his class, and should George Washington return to +earth, and enter a contest to-day (I hope there is nothing sacrilegious +in the thought), he would distance their best efforts. A mighty fine +pair of legs he must have had, and what he could have done with modern +improvements, such as spiked shoes, a five-inch joist, on a nice +cinder-path, and with prepared ground to land in, we can only guess; I +should say he could have bettered his record by a good yard. It is easy +to understand how such a man could succeed in the great game of war.</p> + +<p>Our Virginian jumper, despite all his advantages, was content with a +performance of nearly three feet less than that of the father of his +country, who had hailed from the same State.</p> + +<p>So matters went on, until one morning late in April I arranged with Dick +to give him an early morning trial alone. He demurred at this most +decidedly, being very fond of his morning nap, but consented finally, if +I would agree to call him. I cannot tell how I allowed him to wheedle me +as he did; but it was a way he had with all, and few could resist him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a little after seven when I left my door and started for Dick's +room. Now, I am no spring poet; in fact, thirty years' connection with +the cinder-path has knocked most of the romance out of me, but I +remember that morning still. It had been a late winter, and this was +really the first dawn with no chill on the air; the trees were +blossoming, the birds singing, the sun shining, the air like a tonic, +and there was an indescribable something which told that winter was gone +at last.</p> + +<p>After some delay at Dick's door,—for he was a wonderful sleeper, +particularly in the early morning,—I succeeded in waking him, and sat +in the window-seat while he took his tub. I helped him a little in the +rub-down, and a man more fit I never saw. This over, Dick pulled on his +trunks, jersey, and sweater, and taking his shoes in his hands he +followed me leisurely down-stairs. We waited a moment on the steps, +while he pulled his shoes on, and then jogged over to the track. So +fresh was the air, that just before we reached the ground I found myself +quickening strides with Dick, until we finished at a very pretty sprint, +something I had not done for a long time. It does not help a trainer to +compete under any conditions with his man.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps it was partly because I felt that I had unbent too much with him +that I made my lecture, already planned, more severe than intended; at +any rate, it was a mighty stiff talk the boy got. I knew it was useless +to mince matters, and was resolved to cut through his armor of good +nature and indifference, if there was a vulnerable point, and a straight +thrust could reach him. A couple of weeks before, the captain of the +team, disgusted with Dick's unsatisfactory work, had quite lost his +temper with him and told him in so many words that he was not worth the +salt of the training-table, and must make a brace or he would not make +the team at all.</p> + +<p>Almost any other man would have either got hot and given a sharp answer, +or more likely still gone into his boots with disappointment. Dick, +however, did neither. He gave one of his wide smiles, maddening enough +to an earnest man, took the matter very calmly, and volunteered to get +his feed at his own expense whenever we tired of furnishing it. He +remarked that a table with a little more variety would suit his palate +fully as well, and after the talk went on with his tiresome jump of +nineteen-six just as if nothing at all had been said.</p> + +<p>Now, while this was provoking enough, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> under usual conditions would +have resulted in a summary drop from the team, we did not take the boy +at his word. We were in desperate need of a broad jumper, and hoped that +he might get out of the rut, and pick up that extra foot or two before +the games. We thought it possible, also, that in a big contest the boy +might be stirred up a bit, very much to his benefit.</p> + +<p>On this April morning I talked about as plainly as I knew, using good +old Anglo-Saxon phrases, and not many French idioms. I would not care to +see my exact words in print, and I am afraid some of the bright eyes +that I hope to please with this book would open wide with surprise. A +trainer is given a certain license, like the driver of a yoke of oxen +and the captain of a football team. I knew one of the latter who was +seriously blamed because his puritanical training forbade the use of any +stronger language than "board of health" when a signal was lost or the +ball was dropped. Out in the open air, and among strong men, it is very +easy to form the habit of using strong words on occasions like this.</p> + +<p>I told Dick, in effect, that I had given him time and attention that +rightfully belonged to other men on the team, and had nothing to show +for it; that he could do better, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> must do better; that his lack of +improvement was a reflection on me as well as himself; and finally, if +he was not an arrant cur, without courage and without honor, he would +have tired of a child's jump long ago. "Why, man," said I, "if you had +sand enough for an ant-hill, with a pair of legs like yours, you would +be making a jump of twenty-three feet this morning."</p> + +<p>Now, Dick was a great pet of mine and had never heard a hot word from +me; he was very much surprised, and when I called him an "arrant cur, +without courage and without honor," he flushed to the roots of his hair. +The question of his honor was what touched him most deeply, for his +Virginia atmosphere had made him especially sensitive, if not over +careful. I was pleased to see his face grow dark, and the smile fade +from the corners of his mouth. He was first indignant, and then in a +towering passion. He stepped toward me, with clinched hands, and opened +his mouth a couple of times to speak, but not a word did he say. Then he +turned suddenly on his heel, walked away from me down the cinder-path, +pulled his sweater over his head, dropped it on the grass, faced toward +me again, and set himself for his sprint.</p> + +<p>I was standing with him close to the joist when I delivered my lecture, +and I remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> where I was, wondering what the boy was up to.</p> + +<p>He came down the path for his jump, with his jaw set, his eyes aflame, +his brows black, and with two bright red spots in his cheeks. One of +Dick's faults was that he would not force himself to full speed, an +absolute essential for a good broad jump. In fact, a man who will not or +cannot sprint should not be allowed to waste his energies on this event. +This morning was an exception to the rule with Dick, for he came toward +me like a whirlwind, apparently paying no attention to either stride or +distance. He fortunately reached the mark all right, caught the joist +firm and strong, and launched into the air with his knees high.</p> + +<p>I cannot describe my sensations as he shot by me, better than to say he +seemed to fly. I knew before he landed that the old mark of nineteen-six +was gone forever, but when he broke ground close to the end of the box, +and fell forward, I could not gather my senses for a moment. Dick picked +himself up like a flash, his brows still threatening, and coming up to +me said hoarsely, "Measure that, you English blackguard!" and strode off +to his room without even stopping to pick up his sweater.</p> + +<p>I said nothing at all in answer, for I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> not in the least offended at +the uncomplimentary language. Not that I am accustomed to being +addressed in other than a respectful manner, but in this case I had +really brought the anger on myself intentionally, and I had been +successful beyond my fondest hopes.</p> + +<p>As Dick disappeared behind the fence, Tom Furness swung round the +corner, out for an early spin round the track.</p> + +<p>"What do you call that?" said he, looking at the marks.</p> + +<p>"It is the biggest jump ever made by man," I answered solemnly.</p> + +<p>"A jump from the hard ground, either sidewise or backward," said Tom; +"nothing but wings could carry a man from the joist to those marks."</p> + +<p>"Look them over," I said, "before you question them."</p> + +<p>Well, to make a long story short, the marks told their own tale; the +ground was unbroken except by his feet, for there had been a shower the +night before. There were proofs enough to convince Tom that Dick's shoes +with Dick in them had run down that cinder-path, and from the joist had +jumped the distance. Tom saw readily that the heel prints were too deep +for a short jump backward, and too even for one sidewise. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> was the +broken ground, showing that the impetus was from the joist and the +jumper was at a high rate of speed, and had lifted high in the air.</p> + +<p>When we had argued it all out satisfactorily, Tom suggested that we had +better measure it before we talked any longer, for it might not show up +to what I thought.</p> + +<p>He took the end of the tape and held it to the joist, while I walked +ahead, with the reel rattling as I pulled it out. By the well-worn +figures up to twenty-one I went; twenty-two and twenty-three were +slightly blurred, but the twenty-four was fresh and bright, and at +twenty-four two and one-quarter I stopped, and looked back to see if the +tape was all right. I lifted my hand again, examined the ground very +carefully, pulled the tape tight, and made the mark twenty-four feet one +and three-quarter inches, back of which there was not the hint of a +break.</p> + +<p>Then Tom and I changed ends and he found it just the same.</p> + +<p>There was no mistake about it. Given a competition and witnesses on that +April morning, and the record would not stand to-day at twenty-three six +and one-half, but a good seven and one-quarter inches better, and the +name of Richard Spotswood Fairfax would be fastened to it.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, I expected that Dick would be all right with me the next time we +met. I thought he would be pleased that my words, however severe, had +forced him to the big jump, and even anticipated an apology for his +offensive words. In this, however, I was mistaken. I did not realize the +extreme sensitiveness of a Virginian and a Fairfax to any reflection +upon his honor. Dick met me courteously enough, but distantly, and +indeed was never the same to me again.</p> + +<p>I found, too, that my lecture had only a temporary effect, for he took +up the old jump of nineteen-six the same as before, apparently as +contented as ever.</p> + +<p>Tom Furness was foolish enough to tell the story of Dick's big jump, and +was jollied therefore by everybody, receiving credit for a most +Munchausen imagination. Tom let them rough him all right, for nothing +pleased him better, but came to me at last with Sam Hitchcock asking me +to settle a bet, whether or no Dick Fairfax had broken the record of the +running broad jump in practice.</p> + +<p>Of course I could but tell the truth under such circumstances, although +I knew I was putting my reputation for veracity to a severe test. I +declared very seriously that Dick had certainly bested the +twenty-four-foot mark under record conditions. Sam was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> incredulous, and +went so far as to remind me that it was not at all a joking matter, for +a good ten-dollar note must change hands on my decision. At this, I +repeated my statement positively as before, and Sam paid over the money +without any further remark.</p> + +<p>It was altogether too good a story for him to keep, and it soon became +an interesting subject of discussion. Those who knew me best (and Sam +among them, despite his loss) believed the tale, but there were many +"doubting Thomases." Some made it a subject for senseless jokes and +witless questions, such as, "Was the tape elastic?" "Did he jump from +the roof?" or "Did he do it very, very early in the morning?" Other +"smart Alecs" declared the twenty-four feet was all right, but the extra +one and three-quarters inches they could not go.</p> + +<p>Now, I am not at all averse to a draw on the long bow when swapping lies +with a sporting friend and both know the game we play, but when I speak +seriously I wish to be taken in the same way. Beside, I had allowed +money to pass on it, and that should have settled the matter.</p> + +<p>It was partly due to my resentment at this banter that Dick finally made +the team and little Jack Bennett did not. The latter certainly became +better in practice, but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> claimed that neither were of any use at their +regular jumps, and that Dick's extraordinary performance, for which I +vouched again, while not likely to be repeated, was possible, and made +Dick the better man for the choice.</p> + +<p>When the decision was finally made, about a week before the games, I +wrote Mrs. Fairfax a long letter, telling her the whole truth, giving +special emphasis to the early morning trial. I declared my only hope for +Dick's success (and that a faint one) was that the heat of a contest +with men of other colleges, and before a crowd, might wake him up and +get him a place. I did not see how he could win except by a miracle. I +declared that I had kept my promise to her most faithfully, and that my +disappointment was, if possible, greater than her own.</p> + +<p>I received an answer promptly, which read as follows:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Oaks, Fairfax Co., Va</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I understand the conditions perfectly, but am still +confident that Richard will win. He must win. Give him the +enclosed note just before his last trial. On no account allow him +to see it before, nor permit any considerable interval between the +reading and Richard's last jump.</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Sincerely yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 36em;"><span class="smcap">Margaret Lee Fairfax</span>.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">To Mr. Walter Brown</span>.</span><br /> +</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, I confess that when I finished the reading I really questioned the +sanity of the "châtelaine" of "The Oaks." What effect could a note have, +no matter how worded, upon easy-going Dick Fairfax? What appeal could +she make that would add the necessary feet to his jump? It made me think +of boyish stories of the age of chivalry, when talismanic words were +efficacious. I read this short note over as carefully and even more +wonderingly than the first black-bordered letter written by the same +hand. Then I put it away in my pocket, resolved to follow instructions +implicitly, no matter how foolish they might seem. I should have nothing +with which to reproach myself, and would give Mrs. Fairfax no occasion +for fault-finding. So the matter was left, and Dick went on with the +rest of the team, perfectly contented with himself and all around him.</p> + +<p>The games that year were not particularly interesting, except the one +event for which we were so poorly prepared, and in which even Tom +Furness did not have the courage to claim a single point.</p> + +<p>It was a clear day after a three-days' rain, and the track was heavy, +which happened to suit us. We had a couple of "mud larks"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> who scooped +the sprints, though a dry-track would not have given them a place.</p> + +<p>Dick spent most of the day watching the contests, as disinterestedly as +if he was a native of the Isle of Java. He was clothed in a big gray +blanket wrap and an omnipresent smile. The wrap had crimson cords and +tassels, was extremely becoming, and more than one pair of bright eyes +looked at him approvingly from the grand stand. Our Virginia jumper was +certainly the handsomest and most distinguished-looking of all the +contestants, and the girls always wish such a man to win, and are +surprised and disappointed when some raw-boned chap with carroty hair, +freckled face, and not a regular feature beats out their favorite. It +was a glorious day, the sun bright, the sky cloudless, the seats +crowded, and the college cheers like volleys of infantry at short range. +When the "running broad" was on, and the numbers were called, Dick did +not answer to his, and we were forced to look him up, the clerk +meanwhile fussing and fuming, and using language more forceable than +polite. At last I found him looking dreamily across the track at a +pretty girl in the grand stand, as if this was his only business. He +followed me with a bored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> look, and several backward glances delayed his +sufficiently leisurely footsteps.</p> + +<p>There was another delay on account of the ground; for, as frequently +happens, the soil in the box where the men landed was so soft that it +broke back several inches. Seever was the first man, and I did not want +him to throw away a single chance. A spade was sent for and the loose +earth flattened down a bit, but it took considerable time. The clerk, +measurer, and almost every one else were put out but Dick, who had +thrown himself full length on the soft turf by the side of the path, and +bore the delay with extreme fortitude.</p> + +<p>Most of the other contestants had taken a trial jump or two to get their +strides and make their marks, but Dick waited contentedly for his number +to be called, and would have been just as well satisfied if he had been +skipped altogether.</p> + +<p>Seever was the first of a large field, and when his number was announced +he threw off his wrap and walked down the path. He was one of the most +awkward men I ever saw, but as honest as he was homely. All his +opponents wished him well, and several of them, as they sprawled around +on the grass, had a joke or a bit of chaff for him as he left them. I +always like to see the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> trial of the "running broad." There is the +narrow cinder-path, the whitewashed joist, and the soft earth, smoothed +by repeated rakings ready to receive the prints of the spiked shoes. +After that it is tedious until the weeding-out process is completed, and +the three best men fight it out for the places.</p> + +<p>I could have told within three inches of what Seever would do before he +made his jump, for he was extremely steady, and had been at it for four +years, and reached his limit. He came down the track awkwardly, but at a +good speed, caught the joist firmly with his big foot, rose in the air +with a grunt, and landed with a thud. The measurer announced twenty feet +one-quarter inch without hesitation, for Seever always jumped high, and +kept his heels together. Two or three others tried, and then came Frost, +our second man, a little fellow with curly black hair. He was a bit +better or worse than Seever, but inclined to be careless, and to-day it +cost him dear. He overstepped the joist so far that he wrenched his +ankle badly and was forced to retire, limping off to the dressing-room +on a couple of the boys' shoulders.</p> + +<p>Dick was almost last, and when he was called, he rose slowly, with a +yawn, threw the gray wrap over Seever's head, and walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> down the path +as if he cared not where it led. When he turned, he looked up to the +grand stand and gave the little blonde in the blue dress a glance and +smile, for which he was most liberally applauded. At first only a few +pairs of little gloved hands clapped, but they were persistent; others, +who supposed for some reason or other applause was the proper thing at +this time, joined in, and Dick received quite an ovation, although he +had done nothing and was expected to do nothing.</p> + +<p>I can see him to-day as he looked then. His arm out for his sprint; his +bare legs, brown and sinewy, but smooth and graceful as a girl's; his +whole figure a model for an artist. He was much surprised at the +applause, for he was not used to it, and did not expect it. The color +rose in his dark cheeks as he started down the path, quickening speed +with every step, until just as his college cheer sounded its first sharp +note he caught the joist, and bounded into the air. It was a perfect +jump, barring a little lack of determination, but with much more fire +than usual. I watched as the measurer pulled out his tape, and was +pleased enough when he gave the distance as twenty-one two. I had been +thinking all the day of the mother down in the old home, whose heart was +so bound up in the success of her boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>. I would have given a month's +salary to have been able to send her the telegram she hoped for.</p> + +<p>One after another, tall and short, stout and slender, good and bad, had +their three trials, and Dick was in the finals by an inch and a half. +Poor old Seever was out of it, and Dick was the only string we had left. +All of our people were perfectly satisfied at this, and Tom was smiling +as a Cheshire cat. I had absolutely no hope that Dick would do better +than third, for after his first attempt, although the applause had been +louder than ever, he had taken no notice of it, and had apparently lost +all interest in the sport. Being accustomed to his surroundings, he went +through his performances in a perfunctory fashion, showing a fraction +over twenty feet, and then a fraction under. Indeed, he had become his +old listless, careless self again.</p> + +<p>In the finals he did first nineteen-nine, and then, despite the +desperate effort I made to stir him up with sharp words, he fell back to +his old maddening distance of nineteen-six and one-half.</p> + +<p>The other two competitors, a little fellow with light hair, and a big +chap with not much hair of any color, had respectively twenty-two one +and one-half, and twenty-one and three-quarters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> inch to their credit. +All seemed over but the shouting when Dick walked slowly down the +cinder-path for his last trial. No applause did he get either, except +from the gloved hands, for men do not like to see an athlete without +determination, no matter how well they may like him in society.</p> + +<p>As he walked down the path, I followed along a little behind him on the +turf. I waited until he put his hand out, in exact accordance with +instructions, and then I handed him his mother's message. He looked at +me a moment with surprise, then took the black-bordered note and broke +the seal.</p> + +<p>He read it hastily, and the color left his face as if a mortal fear had +stricken him. Into his eyes there came first a far-away look, then one +of the fiercest determination. He crumpled the note in his left hand, +faced around for his sprint, and was off like a flash. I watched the +lithe figure and followed it, but Dick had landed long before I reached +the joist. He had caught the timber much as he had done on the April +morning, and had thrown his knees high as before. I saw him cut the air, +and my heart came into my mouth as I thought of a win and a broken +record both. But it was not to be. I saw him land in the end of the box, +far beyond<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> any other jump; but, to my horror, he had reached too far +with his feet, and though he made a desperate effort, he balanced a +moment, and then threw himself on his back and side. He picked himself +up without a word, and throwing his gray wrap over his shoulder pushed +his way through the little crowd of contestants and officials, and +strode off toward the dressing-rooms without even waiting for the +measurer.</p> + +<p>I had eyes now only for the tape. The footmarks were plain as possible, +and on the right and several inches back were the prints of Dick's thigh +and elbow in the brown earth. The measurer pulled the tape out +carefully, and I saw his finger slide by the twenty-two mark, where they +hesitated a moment. He examined the broken ground with eager eyes, and +at last his thumb stopped at the three and one-quarter inch. The little +fellow who had made the twenty-two one and one-half was close by my +side, and I heard him sigh at the sight. He had another trial; but the +first place had seemed his already, and now he must fight for it with +only one more chance. I was quite sure that Dick's jump was good enough, +and so it proved. Richard Spotswood Fairfax was a winner. I was delayed +a little, and when I reached the dressing-room I learned that the boy +had dressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> hurriedly, and driven off in a carriage by himself, without +a word for any one. When I reached the hotel, he had taken his +departure, waiting neither for congratulations nor farewells.</p> + +<p>The first telegram I sent that night was to Virginia, and the first +letter I read, on my return, was one with a black border.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;"><span class="smcap">The Oaks, Fairfax Co., Va</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I am in receipt of your telegram. I must thank you for +the faithfulness with which you have fulfilled my request. It is +not probable that Richard will continue in athletics. I enclose +herewith a compensation which is certainly due you. I shall be +greatly disappointed if denied the pleasure of its acceptance. +Wishing you the success you deserve in your profession, I am,</p></blockquote> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 34em;">Sincerely yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 36em;"><span class="smcap">Margaret Lee Fairfax</span>.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">To Mr. Walter Brown</span>.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>So closed my correspondence with the "châtelaine" of "The Oaks," whom I +never saw, but about whom I have often thought. What did she write in +that black-sealed, black-bordered note? I have puzzled my brain over it +many and many an hour. I think I have guessed the riddle; but true or +false, it must be kept a secret still.</p> + +<p>Dick himself is certainly not an enigma.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> He is only the most pronounced +case of a description I have met before and since.</p> + +<p>He had ability, but not the inclination nor the will. A temporary anger +on that April morning had given him the necessary determination to force +his muscles to their extreme exercise of power. His mother's note had +furnished a motive which had brought him in a winner. Without +incentives, his muscular powers were not exercised, and his performances +were ordinary.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, as I sit by the fireside, smoking my pipe over old memories, +I think of Dick, and wonder what he would have done had he Teddy +Atherton's head on his shoulders, or his heart inside his ribs.</p> + +<p>Of all my athletic disappointments Dick furnished me with the most +disheartening, and among all the surprises of field and track none has +equalled the Virginia jumper.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a name="AND_EVERY_ONE_A_WINNER" id="AND_EVERY_ONE_A_WINNER"></a> +<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="600" height="136" alt="" /> +</div> + +<p>We are winners. The lobby of the hotel is crowded. Athletes, college +men, travellers, and a curious public are well shuffled together. It is +the same old pack of cards that I have seen for years, though the faces +change. That "know-it-all" by the post is a new man, yet he is telling +just how and why we won, like the wiseacres who preceded him, and the +others who will follow; for this line of succession never runs out. He +is telling how he has foreseen the result for weeks, and can call +witnesses to prove his faultless prediction of six months ago. Yes, he +can, though we only pulled out by the skin of our teeth, after sitting +on the anxious seat all the afternoon; and had not Jim Harding thrown +the hammer ten feet farther than ever before, we never should have won +at all. But this only makes the "know-it-all's" wisdom more remarkable, +and my ignorance as well, for I had thought the team a losing one, +though I had, of course, held my tongue.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bah! Thirty years have not reconciled me to this gentry, with the addled +brains and brazen throats.</p> + +<p>Most of the college men are gathered in little groups, around which the +crowds ebb and flow in a surging tide. That its strongest current is +through the swinging door of the bar-room cannot be denied, nor that it +shows signs of the source from which it sprang. There are at least three +grains of talk to one of listen, which is the regular dose, though the +athletes pull the proportion down. They are, as usual, quietest of all. +They have developed other muscles than those of the tongue; and yet even +they are a bit talkative to-night, and have an unmistakably festive air +about them.</p> + +<p>After months of preparation and weeks of strict training, when rigid +rules prohibit, and all the pleasant things of life seem labelled "Keep +off the grass," there is a maddening pleasure in being free again,—free +to taste that favorite dish, palatable but indigestible; free to inhale +the fragrance of a good cigar; free to watch the hands of the clock +swing into the small hours; free, as Harry Gardner expresses it, "to do +as you darn please once more."</p> + +<p>For those who have lost there is the necessity of drowning sorrow, and +it is certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> the duty of a good winner to give his victory a fitting +celebration. There is not as much difference in the two ceremonies as +might be imagined.</p> + +<p>Our team has broken training, and some of them are breaking it badly. +There are the long summer months before them, with the leisure hours at +seashore or mountains, and no more work until the cool winds of autumn +begin to blow. Even those of the most regular habits are kicking over +the traces, and some of the wilder spirits, that make a trainer's hair +gray before its time, to whom the six months' restraint has been a +galling yoke, are giving themselves very loose rein. I am sorry to say +that this particular team has not a large percentage of either deacons +or clergymen, though Jim Harding afterward took holy orders, became an +honor to the cloth, and will some day be a bishop. I occasionally attend +his church; and when I see his huge form at the desk, and hear his +voice, powerful and earnest, as it echoes to the farthest corner, I +wonder if he has forgotten the night when we looked for "Paddy's cousin, +the copper," when "every one was a winner."</p> + +<p>As I enter the hotel lobby, after dinner, on this evening of the games +of 188-, I discover Jim standing near the street entrance with Harry +Gardner, and a little knot of college<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> friends and admirers. They are +smoking like bad chimneys, and between puffs are giving a green reporter +some most surprising bits of information, much to their own enjoyment +and the delectation of their friends. The little reporter is taking +copious notes, which will create a sensation in the morning, if the +sporting editor does not discover them before they get into print. Jim +is big and blond, and Harry slender and dark; the former has made a +first in the "hammer-throw;" the latter, after winning his trial heat in +the "hundred" with ease, got away badly in the finals, and had to +content himself with adding a single point to our score.</p> + +<p>Now, Jim and Harry are particular friends of mine; I shall never handle +them again, and I want a last word or two of farewell. They have +developed under my care from awkward boys to the finished athletes they +are to-night. I have seen the firm, round muscles becoming more and more +perfect; the heart and lungs grow equal to more and more severe tests, +and the increasing courage and self-reliance (without which there can be +no success on the cinder-path) which will help them through many a +struggle with the world they are about to enter. It is one of the sad +parts of a trainer's life that he must lose such friends.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>I force my way through the crowd, getting numberless nods and greetings +of a warmer nature, for I am a well-known man in such a gathering. I +strike the strong current flowing to and from the bar; but a little +patience, and a liberal use of the elbow, brings me to the boys at last. +I give them each a hand, and we exchange a word or two of +congratulation. Harry is, I see, a bit sore at his misfortune, for he +had been picked as a sure winner. I give him a word of praise for his +gallant effort to make up a three-yard loss at the start. There are many +sprinters who would not have tried at all, let alone have pulled off the +much-needed point. I tell Harding, with assumed resentment, that he has +been sogering all the time, abusing my confidence by playing the +sleeper, and that he has always been good for the extra ten feet.</p> + +<p>At this Jim gives one of his basso profundo laughs, and in answer to my +question as to what mischief he is plotting, replies that Harry and +himself are waiting for Paddy, who has gone with Tom Furness for a +little something "to kape the night out," and that they have promised +the Irishman to help him look up his cousin "Dinny Sullivan, a copper."</p> + +<p>I find that all they know about this cousin is that he is a policeman, +on duty somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> in the Bowery district. The boys admit the scent is +not strong, but anticipate good sport in the hunt, whether they bag the +game or not. There is always fun with Paddy, for though he has become a +mighty knowing man on cinder-path and track, and is not as green as when +he tackled the "ghostly hurdler," he is a delicious bit still.</p> + +<p>He appears a moment after, the "Knight of the Rake and Roller," +accompanied by Tom; and judging from the aroma that clings to them, the +necessary precautions have been taken against the baleful influences of +the night air.</p> + +<p>Tom is as happy and sanguine as ever, shakes me by the hand as if my arm +was a pump-handle in midsummer, and immediately protests that not a step +will he take out of the house unless I go with him.</p> + +<p>At this they all insist that the party will be incomplete without me. I +must go, or I shall break up the party and spoil sport. After +considerable resistance, which I admit now was assumed, I consented at +last. The truth was that, while I had not trained as had the boys, I had +given many months of care and anxiety to them, and really wanted a bit +of a fling myself. I knew very well what the little walk would lead up +to, but reasoned that the boys were bound to get into trouble, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +it would be a charity to look after them. In fact, I played the +hypocrite in a way for which I should have been ashamed.</p> + +<p>Although Tom and the boys gave unmistakable signs of "having dined," and +Paddy of his heroic remedies against the night, we all meander to the +bar for a last measure of precaution, light fresh cigars, and sally +forth.</p> + +<p>The clocks are striking eight as the door swings behind us, the stars +are beginning to show, and the street lights to shine. The air is mild, +and the pavements seem like a country road after the awful crowd of the +lobby. The rattle of the pavements is silence compared with the rattle +of tongues which we have left behind us.</p> + +<p>We pile into a carriage which Paddy selects from a number drawn up to +the curb,—because the driver is a Connemara man. We are not +particularly comfortable with three on one seat, and five pairs of long +legs interlaced; but our ride is enlivened by Paddy's conversation, no +less brilliant than fluent, which is a magnificent compliment. +Occasionally Tom succeeds in getting in a word, but the rest of us are +out of it. He is about to give us some reminiscences of "Dinny's" +boyhood when the carriage stops, much to our surprise, for we do not +realize the lapse of time.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>We alight before a corner drug-store, and Paddy calls the "Connemara +man" an "Irish thief" when Tom pays him an exorbitant charge. He is +easily placated, however, and goes into the store to inquire after +Dinny, while we wait outside. We look through the window, between the +red bottle on the right and the blue bottle on the left, and see him go +up to the clerk at the soda fountain. The latter, a tall, pale-faced +youth, answers shortly, and points to a big directory on a little shelf +in the corner. Paddy walks over, upsetting a rack of sponges on the way, +opens the directory doubtfully, turns over its leaves, runs his finger +down a page or two, looks more and more puzzled, and at last beckons us +in.</p> + +<p>We enter, and find him looking blankly at an almost unending list of +Dennis Sullivans, engaged in many occupations, and several of them "on +the force." After a careful examination, befitting the seriousness of +the occasion, we pronounce the task hopeless, and file out again. Our +departure is apparently greatly to the relief of the pale young man, for +we had laughed until the bottles rattled when Paddy described his cousin +as a "big chunk av a man, wid a taste for gin, an' a bad habit av +snorin'."</p> + +<p>We halt in the lee of the mortar and pestle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> while the crowd surges +past, and hold a council of war. Harding suggests that our best plan is +to form a rush line, letting none pass until they tell all they know +about "Dennis Sullivan, the copper." This proposition is hailed with +delight by all but Tom and me, and though we are in the minority our +opposition succeeds. To spread a drag-net across a Bowery sidewalk I +believe to be a decidedly hazardous proceeding, and likely to result in +the catching of fish too big to land. We finally form, with Paddy ahead, +then Jim and Harry, Tom and myself bringing up the rear.</p> + +<p>We had not taken a dozen steps before Paddy halts a tough-looking chap +with "Do yes know me cousin, Dinny Sullivan?" The prisoner wears a very +short sack-coat, plaid trowsers, and a tall silk hat. He has a "mouse" +under one eye, and the other, though lacking the honorable decoration of +its companion, is red and angry. His mustache is closely clipped and +dyed a deathly black; the cigar in the extreme corner of his mouth is +tilted at an acute angle. He blows a cloud of smoke over Paddy's +shoulder, and looks us all over suspiciously, each in turn.</p> + +<p>Now, we are rather a formidable party: Paddy and Jim as big as houses, +Tom tall and angular, myself a rugged specimen, and Harry, though not +adding much to our physical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> strength, evidently spoiling for trouble. +As a rule, the little men are the aggressors, and most dangerous of all +if they have a crowd with them.</p> + +<p>Paddy's first captive, in deference to our superior force, decides to +act the civil, and asks gruffly, "What's his biz?"</p> + +<p>"He's a cop," answered Paddy, "a big chunk av a man, wid a scar over the +lift eye, under the hair." Identifying a man by a concealed scar is too +much for Tom, who breaks into a hearty laugh, and the prisoner himself +gives a half smile, when after denying all knowledge of "Dinny" he is +allowed to pass on.</p> + +<p>We next halt a couple of young fellows, evidently gentlemen, out on a +lark. They recognize in Paddy a character worth cultivating, and keep +him talking several minutes, asking fool questions; but they finally +admit that "me cousin Dinny Sullivan" is not on their list of +acquaintances.</p> + +<p>We spent some time in this way, Paddy doing picket duty, the main army +close up in support. After questioning a dozen or more we make up our +minds that Dinny is certainly not as well known on the Bowery as John L. +or Tony Pastor, and that the success of our mission is doubtful. We had +enjoyed the dialogues immensely, particularly that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> with a good-natured +German. The latter understood hardly a word of English, but spoke his +own language like a cuckoo clock. Paddy, of course, knew not a single +word he said, but stuck to him for several minutes, giving up English at +last, and treating us to the classic accents of old Ireland.</p> + +<p>Nearly all we met had taken the matter good-naturedly, but one or two +did not see the joke, and turned ugly. One big fellow talked fight, but +the proposition was received by Paddy with such extreme joy, and +preparations were made with such alacrity, that he thought better of the +plan and withdrew his challenge. This was greatly to Paddy's +disappointment, and Harry's as well, the latter offering to take the +Irishman's place, though he would have been fifty pounds short weight.</p> + +<p>We had been stopping frequently for Paddy to take further precautions to +"kape the night out," and the rest of us doctored with the same medicine +in smaller doses.</p> + +<p>Paddy was now perfectly happy, and he had his reasons. The "byes" had +won; he was drinking, under Tom's most learned and experienced tuition, +a different new drink every time, and in his heart of hearts was sure of +a fight before the sun rose.</p> + +<p>What more could an Irishman ask; and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> Connemara Irishman at that? His +face was growing redder and more smiling every minute, and his feet, +although they performed their duties after a fashion, would certainly +not have been equal to the "crack in the floor test," as on the night +when he encountered the "ghostly hurdler."</p> + +<p>But although Pat would have been contented to continue in the same +blissful state until the crack of doom, the rest of us began to tire of +the quest, and to look around in search of other things beside "Dinny, +the copper." The streets were crowded, the stores open, the bar-rooms +doing a rushing business, and the places of amusement in full blast.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jim stopped before the bulletin board of a little variety +theatre, and began to examine it critically. There was a long list of +names in black letters,—singers, dancers, acrobats, boxers, and I know +not what else; but Jim's eyes were fixed with great seriousness at the +tall red letters at the bottom. They declared, in extremely mixed +metaphor, "A Galaxy of Stars, and Every One a Winner."</p> + +<p>"I'm going in," said Jim, with much gravity, throwing his cigar away.</p> + +<p>"How about Paddy's cousin, the copper?" asked Harry.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's as likely here as anywhere," Jim answered; "beside, it says that +'every one's a winner,' and that's the only kind for us to-night."</p> + +<p>We were all of us quite ready for a change, so we stepped into the +little lobby, Paddy first going up to the ticket office to ask, "Is me +cousin, Dinny Sullivan, the copper, inside?"</p> + +<p>The ticket-seller, a big, fat fellow, with weak eyes and a Roman nose, +thought Paddy was trying to jolly him, and answered "No," quite tartly. +Paddy, of course, resented the incivility, and declared himself to be a +gentleman, and he cared not who knew it. He further ventured to doubt +whether the man behind the window was in the same class with himself, +and, gradually abandoning the reproachful accents with which he had +begun, became first unparliamentary, and then abusive.</p> + +<p>The ticket-seller stood it for a while, and then told Paddy to pass +along, that "Dinny Sullivan" was not inside, but that they had two other +policemen who were no relation of Pat's, but would take care of him just +the same.</p> + +<p>This last threat raised Paddy's anger to the boiling point, so that he +first tried unsuccessfully to enter through the locked door, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> then +reaching his huge fist through the little open place in the window, +shook it as near the Roman nose as the length of his arm would permit.</p> + +<p>We finally persuaded him to subside, and Harry took his place with a +roll of bills to purchase the tickets. He had hardly begun to speak, +however, before Harding caught him, and lifted him, despite his +struggles, on to the shoulder of a big statue of Terpsichore, in the +corner, reminding him, gently but firmly, that the invitation was his, +and he must be permitted to pay the bills. He obtained five seats in the +front row of the orchestra, and parted therefor with two dollars and +fifty cents.</p> + +<p>We were inspected a trifle suspiciously by the door-keeper, but filed +in, and found the little theatre filled with a numerous and enthusiastic +audience. The gallery was packed, the cheap seats on the rear of the +floor well taken, and only a few of the more expensive ones in the front +of the house unoccupied. The air was hot, and full enough of the fumes +of alcohol to burn. Before we had adjusted our lungs to the new +conditions, a little fellow in a dirty zouave suit took the checks from +Jim, and ushered us down the centre aisle to our seats in the front row. +We made considerable noise, for the steps were of uneven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> depths, and at +unequal distances, and Paddy stumbled all over himself at every +opportunity.</p> + +<p>Harry went in first, followed by Pat, Tom, myself, and Jim, in the order +named. We were obliged to squeeze by an old lady and her daughter who +occupied the end seats, and the former, sitting next to Jim, resented +the necessary crowding by sundry sniffs and looks of disgust. Her +displeasure was so evident that Jim felt called upon to apologize, which +he did in his most grandisonian manner, and in tones not less loud than +those of the singer on the stage, "I beg your pardon, madam; I assure +you it was unintentional; I have tender feet myself, and can sympathize +with you."</p> + +<p>At this there was a burst of applause and laughter. I looked around and +could see a number of college men scattered through the orchestra, +evidently ready to encourage any exploit to which such "dare-devils" as +Jim and Harry might treat them.</p> + +<p>There were a few of the gentler sex in the audience, but the great +majority were men, the flotsam and jetsam of the Bowery. Some of these +joined in the laughter at Jim's elaborate apology, and others scowled +their resentment at the disturbance. From the abode of the gallery gods +(filled mostly with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> boys, big and little) came a shrill "Put 'em out!" +and a big wad of paper composed of an entire "World," and thrown by a +skilful hand, which landed on the top of Jim's head.</p> + +<p>But Jim, apparently not at all noticing the attention which he was +attracting, unfolded his play-bill, and began to study it with the air +of a connoisseur, or a provincial manager in search of talent. The +document was headed with "BILLY JAYNE'S REFINED VAUDEVILLE CO.," and +near the bottom of the first page was bracketed, "Robert Loring, Basso +Profundo, Nautical Songs, Without a Rival."</p> + +<p>It was evidently Robert who was "doing his turn" when we entered, for +his song told of "wild waves, brave ships, oak timbers, fearful storms, +wrecks, and watery graves," in tones deep enough to make the heart +quake. He ended, just as we were well settled in our seats, with a row +of descending notes, the last several feet below the lowest brick of the +cellar, and bowed himself off the stage, amid a burst of applause, which +was followed by another demonstration, well mingled with laughter, when +Jim remarked very audibly to the old lady by his side, "I really wonder +how he does it," and "Shouldn't you think it would hurt him?"</p> + +<p>Loring had already occupied the full time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> for "his turn" (we discovered +later that the performer came out and filled up his ten minutes just the +same, whether applauded and encored, or greeted with stony silence), so, +notwithstanding vigorous clapping, assisted by the more demonstrative +boot-heel, Robert only made his bow from the wings, and departed.</p> + +<p>As he disappeared on one side, a diminutive little darky hurried on from +the other, and changed the cards, announcing as the next star, "Sam +Walker." An examination of the play-bill rewarded us also with the +information that Sam was the "World's Champion Clog Dancer, Lancashire +Style." Two attendants in ragged costumes brought out a big square of +white marble, which they deposited with considerable labor on one side +of the stage, and after a little delay, to make the audience impatient, +the distinguished Walker appeared, clad in well-chalked white tights, +and with the champion's belt buckled round his waist. It was at least +six inches wide, and so heavy with gold, silver, and precious stones +that the redoubtable Sam was obliged to remove it before he could dance +at all. Sam's brother Alfred, in a rusty dress suit, took his seat in a +chair on the other side of the stage, and with an enormous accordeon +furnished the music for the champion, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> treated us to a continuation +of festive taps, stopping with wonderful precision whenever the music +broke off, even if in the middle of a note.</p> + +<p>Next came "Annette Toineau," the "Queen of French Song, Fresh from Her +Parisian Triumphs;" and the big man at the piano began to execute a +lively tune, which set all the feet in the house in motion, until +Annette herself appeared. This she did with a nod, a wink, and a kick +that won instant applause, even before she opened her mouth to sing. An +enthusiastic admirer in the gallery called out, "You're all right, Liz, +old girl," from which remark, and the accent (much more Celtic than +French) with which she afterward treated us, I argued that Annette was +but a stage name, and the "Parisian Triumphs" probably a fiction of the +manager. Annette was a very pretty little girl, with a trim figure in +abbreviated skirts, and she sang rather naughty songs in a manner that +made them worse than they were written.</p> + +<p>I could hear Jim, after she was through, remark to the old lady by his +side, that such songs were likely to lead to the perversion of youth, +and should not be sung except to those who had reached the age of +discretion; by which I suppose he meant himself and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> the old lady, +though she was old enough to be his grandmother. Jim's censorious +remarks were, however, more than offset by Harry, who, at the other end +of our line, applauded so vociferously that Annette rewarded him with a +direct and beaming smile when she made her last bow.</p> + +<p>Then followed "Leslie and Manning, Knock-about Grotesques," "Cora, the +Queen of the Slack Wire," and "Sam Berne, the Dutch Monarch;" the last +of whom first convulsed us by asking Tom, in a sepulchral whisper, to +"Please wake your friend," pointing to Paddy, who was indeed asleep; and +then had a very funny dialogue with the piano-pounder, in which they +both pretended to get in a towering passion over the question as to +whether the singing or the accompaniment was the worse.</p> + +<p>The delights of the play-bill were now well-nigh exhausted, the next to +the last on the list being "Alice Wentworth, America's Most Dashing +Soubrette." She appeared to the tune of some gay waltz notes from the +long-suffering piano. Alice was a slender girl, with brown hair and +large, dark eyes. I doubt she could ever have been "dashing," though +pretty she certainly had been. There were also signs that "once she had +seen better days," as the old song goes. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> now, despite the +assistance of paint and padding, it was evident that sickness or +dissipation had robbed her of most of the attractions she had once +possessed. Her face was too thin for the bright color on her cheeks, her +steps were too listless for the generously filled stockings, and she +coughed several times before she began her song. It was a jolly little +thing, sung in good time and tune, and with those touches which indicate +unmistakably the rudiments, at least, of a musical education. The song +was well received, but at the end of the verse she had a dance, which +called for considerable exertion, and was very trying for her. She got +through the first two verses all right, but when she started the third +her strength was gone; she broke down, and gasped for breath. The piano +continued for a few notes, then stopped, and there was a dead silence. +It was a pitiful sight enough: the poor girl trying to get strength +enough to continue, coughing and gasping painfully; but some one in the +orchestra back of us hissed, there was a cry from the gallery of "Take +her off," and then a chorus of yells and cat-calls. It was the same old +wolf instinct which makes the pack tear to pieces the wounded +straggler,—the wolf instinct in some way transmitted to man.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was indignant enough, and looked around at the audience after the chap +that made the first hiss, but should probably have done nothing had not +Tom Furness, who has the biggest heart in the world, made an effort to +stem the tide. He jumped on his feet, rising to his full height, and +began to applaud with all his might. Of course we all joined in, Paddy's +big feet and hands making a prodigious noise; and the better nature of +the audience being given a lead, the hisses were drowned by a great +storm of applause that fairly shook the old theatre.</p> + +<p>Poor Alice succeeded in getting enough breath to finish her song, and, +dancing no more, gave as an encore "Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonny Doon," +in a way that reached the hearts of the toughest in the house. It is +wonderful how such an audience is affected by the pathetic. An allusion +to an "old mother," an "old home," or suffering from sin and wrong will +catch them quicker than the most doubtful verse.</p> + +<p>The last word of the old Scotch song ended, Alice made her bow amid +applause as hearty if not as noisy as when we drowned the hissing, and I +hope the poor girl was able to keep her place, or, better still, went +back to the old home, among the New Hampshire hills, perhaps, or under +the shadow of the Maine pines.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was now a great bustle on the stage, a rush of "supes," and a +clamor of orders. The scenery was pushed back and the drop-scenes +hoisted out of the way. Padded posts were set in the floor, ropes strung +and pulled taut, making a very satisfactory ring, and the chairs placed +in the corners. By the demonstration on the stage and the eagerness of +the audience, it was evident that we had now come to the great +attraction of the evening. The play-bill read "George Johnson, +Heavy-Weight Boxer, Will Knock Out Three Opponents in Three Rounds Each, +or Forfeit $50 to the Man Who Stays."</p> + +<p>Now, although I was fairly well informed concerning the boxing world, I +was unable to remember "George Johnson's" name, and wondered why he had +not been taken on by some of the well-known men who intruded themselves +into the papers so frequently. The play-bill said clearly that he had +challenged the world, and Tom suggested that Johnson was probably too +good for them to take him on, or perhaps he had not a diligent backer +who could wield a vigorous pen. Harry, who stripped at one hundred and +thirty, declared his willingness to put on the gloves with Mr. Johnson +if they would let him stand on a chair. Paddy, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> whom the performance +had become a dreadful bore, endured only through respect for the high +society in which he was travelling, had now become wide awake, and at +Harry's remark pricked up his ears and asked with much interest if they +gave any one in the audience a chance to put on the gloves. Jim told him +that there were probably three "stiffs" already engaged to go through +the motions of a knock-out, and Paddy remarked that it was a pity, and +subsided for the time.</p> + +<p>When everything was arranged, the pails of water, sponges, and towels +handy, and the gloves thrown into the middle of the ring, the manager +introduced Mr. Richard Foley as the referee of the bouts, ending his +remarks with some very florid compliments to Mr. Foley's well-known +fairness in such matters. What was our surprise to discover in the +gentlemanly referee the identical man we had first stopped on the street +to inquire for "Dinny Sullivan, the copper." He wore the same short coat +and plaid trousers, but had discarded the tall hat and the cigar, +without which he looked lonely. The mouse under his eye had also +disappeared, the artist having succeeded in disguising its mournful hue +by a skilful application of flesh paint.</p> + +<p>After the enthusiasm which greeted his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> appearance had a little +subsided, Mr. Foley raised his hand in a Napoleonic fashion to command +silence, stepped to the front of the stage, and hanging on the ropes in +an attitude of extreme ease and freedom from restraint, made the usual +little speech without which a boxing contest would seem out of joint. He +declared the bout to be one of "a friendly nature" for "scientific +points only," and ended with the warning that any disturbance from the +audience would stop the contest immediately.</p> + +<p>At the close of his remarks appeared the celebrated George Johnson, a +tall mulatto, who took his seat in the chair facing the audience, +followed by his handlers. He was stripped to the waist, and wore a blue +sash, white trunks, and tan shoes. He was a powerful fellow, well +trained, and looked like a bronze statue when he rose, bowing and +smiling at a little group of colored friends who called to him from the +front of the gallery.</p> + +<p>A moment later "Jack Costigan, the Jersey blacksmith," made his début, +and was greeted with even more enthusiasm than Johnson, probably because +of the predominating nationality of the audience, for he was certainly +not a beauty, or even a well-built man. Indeed, he was a mighty +tough-looking customer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> his black hair clipped close enough to reveal a +number of white scars, his face pockmarked, his shoulders stooping, and +he was at least ten pounds lighter than Johnson, with much less height +and reach. He looked sheepish enough to prepare us for the "lie down" +that was to follow, and seemed pleased that his chair gave him the +opportunity to turn his back to the spectators.</p> + +<p>After the very labored introductions by Mr. Foley, in which a slight +allusion was made to their previous records, the men took their corners, +and at the call of "time" they shook hands and got to business. Now, I +shall have hardly a word to say concerning this bout, for there was a +much more stirring one to follow. It was evident from the beginning, +although Johnson was the better man, and could have won anyway, that +Costigan was not sent to do his best. He was an old war-horse, performed +his part well, kept up the mill until the middle of the third round, and +then at a comparatively light blow went down. He pretended to make a +desperate effort to rise while the ten seconds were counted, then picked +himself up, and Johnson was declared the winner.</p> + +<p>After Costigan disappeared there was a long wait, the house growing more +and more impatient. At last the manager appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> and announced his +great regret that the two other boxers had disappointed him. He +announced that one of them had a broken arm, and read a physician's +certificate to that effect. The other, as far as we could learn, was +suffering from a broken heart; that is, he had, after looking the +redoubtable Johnson over, declined to face him for any consideration.</p> + +<p>The manager, again expressing his sorrow at the unavoidable +disappointment, handed our friend, Mr. Foley, a fifty-dollar bill, +making a great splurge about it, and asked if there were not some +gentlemen in the house who would take the places of the delinquents.</p> + +<p>At this there was a dead silence, except the noise made by Paddy and +Harry whispering together, but what they said I did not understand. +Again the manager repeated the request, evidently not expecting its +acceptance, and ended with a challenge reflecting delicately upon the +courage of his audience.</p> + +<p>He had hardly spoken the words when suddenly, to my surprise and dismay, +Paddy rose slowly to his feet, and clearing his throat said, in husky +tones, "Faith, thin, 'tis a pity it is not to hev the foight, and +lackin' a better I'll give him a bit av a go meself."</p> + +<p>There had been many murmurs of disappointment when it looked as if there +would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> but one bout, instead of three as advertised, and at Paddy's +speech there was deafening applause. I did my best to dissuade him, as +did Tom Furness as well; but Jim took up the plan with enthusiasm, and +despite our protests the three "devil-may-cares" crowded along the +aisle, and disappeared through a little door under the gallery, which +led to the stage. A few moments later they filed on, all three with +their coats off, stepped through the ropes, and Paddy took his seat in +the chair facing Johnson, his red face wreathed in smiles, and his +sleeves rolled up to the elbows, Jim and Harry going to work in a very +business-like manner to prepare for the contest.</p> + +<p>Now, all this was great fun for the audience, the manager, and even +Johnson himself, who grinned back at Paddy, showing a long row of white +teeth. It took no expert to see that the Irishman was dead easy, and +there were the anticipated windmill swings, and abortive efforts to hit +on his part, and a scientific exhibition from Johnson, with a knock-out +to follow.</p> + +<p>Tom and I expected nothing better, unless Johnson should be careless +enough to let Paddy hit him once, in which case he might be treated to a +surprise party, for Pat had an arm like a gorilla, and a fist as big as +a small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> ham. Indeed, when Jim tried to push the gloves on which +Costigan had discarded, after his lie down, he found it a job requiring +the exercise of patience and considerable strength as well.</p> + +<p>At last Paddy was all right, Harry fanning him with the towel, Jim +kneeling behind him, whispering sage advice into his ear, to which Paddy +nodded his head with a confident grin. We were close enough to hear his +husky, "'Tis right you are," and "Sure that wud phase 'im." The boys +looked striking enough on the stage, with their refined faces, +fashionable clothes, and spotless linen. Not one in the building but +knew they were gentlemen, and nearly all wished them success with their +man. Paddy himself had caught the crowd also, the gallery becoming his +at first sight of his wide smile and the sound of his "illigant brogue."</p> + +<p>Mr. Foley called "time," and at the word Harry gave a last flap, Jim a +final word of advice, and as Paddy rose to his feet they pulled the +chair through the ropes, and left their man in the ring, to do his +"<i>devoir</i>" as best he might.</p> + +<p>He certainly was not anxious, nor did he lack confidence in himself. He +advanced cheerfully, shook his opponent by the hand, and got in +position. Now, where Paddy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> learned to "shape himself" I never heard, +but I doubt if there is anything like it in the long history of +"Fistiana." I have seen many queer things in old sporting prints, where +the fancy of the artist, I am sure, has maligned the science of good men +with their "fives," but nothing like Paddy's pose has ever appeared to +me before or since. His left foot was well forward, his left arm high, +as if he feared the rap of a "shillalah" instead of the straight blow of +a fist. His right hand he held low behind him, ready to hit, as if he +held a flail or a "bit av a scythe," and he swung his fist round and +round in a little circle. Even Tom and I could not refrain from +laughter, the crowd yelled themselves hoarse, and Johnson could hardly +restrain himself.</p> + +<p>The latter shaped beautifully. After his first surprise was over he grew +serious, stepped in, led lightly, landing on Pat's nose, and when Paddy, +after a belated duck, swung a terrific blow at his opponent, he found +him well out of reach. It was just as I expected: Johnson could hit +Paddy when and where he pleased. He played with him as a cat would with +a mouse. He made a punching-bag of him, hit and got away. He ducked, he +countered, he dodged, he swung on Pat's jaw. He side-stepped, and tapped +him lightly; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> uppercut him when he made a bull rush, so that his head +lifted as if on a hinge. He hooked him with right and left, and played +the "devil's tattoo" all over his body, ending with a rib-roaster that +made even Paddy sigh. In short, when Patrick O'Malley, our "Knight of +the Rake and Roller," took his seat at the end of the first round his +smile was gone, and he looked like a man in a trance.</p> + +<p>Johnson had hit hard enough to have put most men to sleep, but on +Paddy's tough anatomy had made no serious impression, after all. Pat's +right eye was in a fair way to close, and his face looked puffy and his +neck sore, but he was as strong as ever, and his courage as good, though +he probably would have been willing to admit that over the picnic aspect +of the occasion there had come a cloud. Harry and Jim got at work at him +with sponge and towel the minute he took his seat. A very artistic +exhibition they gave, and no doubt Jim's advice which he whispered was +very good, but there was nothing before Paddy but a "knock-out" unless +the unexpected happened.</p> + +<p>Johnson was without a mark, and I question whether he had been hit at +all. He took his drink, smiled up at his handlers as they worked the +cool sponge over his hot chest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> and arms, and leaned back on the ropes +with an air of extreme contentment.</p> + +<p>When the bell rang for the second round Paddy came up in good condition, +but with a somewhat dubious expression on his countenance, and he kept +his left a little lower, ready to stop some of the straight punches he +had accepted so generously in the first round. He did not swing quite as +wildly as before, and although hit harder, the blows did not land quite +as often. In the last half-minute, however, Johnson cut loose, and +Paddy's broad face and thick neck were visited in a savage manner. The +bell barely saved him, for the poor fellow was fairly smothered with +blows, and yet he stood up to his punishment without flinching, and +fought back as best he could.</p> + +<p>Tom had lost patience when he saw Paddy staggering like a bullock under +an axe, and though I told him we could do nothing to help, he insisted +we should at least be with the rest of the party. So the minute the bell +rang for the end of the round, we crowded along the seats, and hurrying +through the door, I was just in time to reach Paddy's corner before he +started in for the third and last round. Now, of all men on earth Paddy +believed in me; Jim and Harry were all right, and doing all possible for +him, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> when he felt my hand on his arm, and heard my whisper in his +ears, his heart, almost gone, came back to him. He turned his swollen +face up to me, and with a new light in his eyes he said, "Tell me what +I'll do, Misther Brown; tell me, darlin', an' I'll lick the nager yet."</p> + +<p>There was something wonderfully pathetic in his blind confidence, and I +never cared so much for the big-hearted Irishman as I did that minute. +To tell the truth, I had been half willing to see him knocked out after +his foolish persistence against my advice. Then again I knew it was not +at all a serious matter to one with his strength and vitality, and a +dash of cold water would leave him no worse memories than a sore head +and a few bruises. But after his appeal I felt very different. I racked +my brain, but though I had been studying his opponent from the +beginning, trying to find his weak point, he was so very shifty on his +feet, and Paddy was so deathly slow, I could think of nothing. Pat had +been swinging at his opponent's head, from the very start, the same old +blow, landing never. He had not tried for the body once, and I made up +my mind just before the bell rang, and whispered, "Never mind his +top-knot, Paddy; wait until he leads, then step in, and hit him in the +ribs; and hit him hard."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>The third round started much like the others, but now on Paddy's face +was not the foolish smile of the first, nor the dubious look of the +second. "Misther Brown" had told him what to do, he was supremely +confident in my wisdom, and had no doubt of the result. His mouth was +firm and his eyes clear as he faced his opponent and waited for his +opportunity.</p> + +<p>I could see that Johnson did not half like the change. He was altered +too, his face had grown cruel, his eyes fierce, and he came in like a +tiger crouching for a spring. The joke was all gone out of the game now; +he must knock Paddy out in the next three minutes or the fifty dollars +would be forfeited. Nothing but a blow in the right spot would be of any +use, and it must have the full swing of the body behind it. I could see +plainly by his high guard that he feared nothing from Paddy but a swing +on the head, and I doubt if he thought of much else beside how he could +land on the point of Paddy's jaw just the right blow. As I knelt between +Jim and Harry, peering through the ropes, I made up my mind that Paddy +had good enough advice if he knew how to use it.</p> + +<p>As usual, Johnson stepped in, leading with his left a light tap, meant +only to open up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> Paddy's guard, so he could swing on him. As usual, he +landed on Paddy's nose, the blood starting freely; but instead of +answering with a blind swing as before, this time Paddy took the blow +coming on; indeed, he started in before he was hit, and the blow did not +stop him at all. The result was, he found himself, for the first time, +almost, since he had put his hands up, at a good striking distance. With +a fierce grunt he smashed his huge fist full on the mark where the ribs +branch, just above the belt. It was a terrible blow, unexpected, given +with all the good intentions that a sense of debt could foster, and with +the impetus of their two weights, for Johnson was coming in himself.</p> + +<p>It doubled his antagonist up like a frog, and Paddy was kind enough to +undouble him with a straight push in the face that straightened him up +again. Harry could not refrain from calling, "Now's your time, Pat!" for +which he was very properly warned by the referee; but Paddy really did +not hear him, and needed no advice. Science was forgotten, and in the +mix-up that followed, Paddy showed a ready hand, cultivated by many a +boyish fight and youthful set-to. Johnson was now not so much interested +in putting Paddy out, as in saving himself; he was fighting blindly, +hugging and clinching when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> he could; keeping away as much as possible, +and growing more and more groggy under the shower of blows that were +rained on him. Time was nearly up when, after a break away, Paddy +stepped back, gathered himself, rushed in, and swung his huge right hand +with all the strength of his powerful body. It was a half hook, and it +landed on Mr. Johnson's jaw, and he went down like a felled tree, +falling with stiff knees, and striking nothing until his face reached +the floor with a thud. He made no effort to rise, and Paddy was so wild +that, had I not called to him, I think he would have gone into Johnson's +corner for a fresh antagonist among his handlers. Johnson lay on the +floor while the ten seconds were ticked off, and then Mr. Foley stepped +to the footlights, and, announcing that Mr. O'Malley had won the bout, +handed him the fifty-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>Paddy hesitated a moment, for he had not thought once of the money; then +he drew from his hip pocket an old-fashioned leather folding wallet, +much worn and discolored, and with a chuckle put the big bill safely +away. The audience had risen as one man to cheer Paddy when the decision +was given, and now the tumult broke out again, and he was forced to bow +his acknowledgments from over the footlights. Even this was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> enough, +and he finally cleared his throat, and made a short speech, of which I +could distinguish nothing but the last words, as he gave a comprehensive +sweep of his gloved hand, including our whole company, and yelled, "An' +ivery wan a winner." He would have spoken longer had not the manager, +with rare presence of mind, dropped the curtain in front of him. Johnson +had come to himself very quickly with the assistance of his handlers, +and now stepped up to Paddy with very honest congratulations, and the +contestants shook hands with mutual respect and no ill will.</p> + +<p>We were delayed a few minutes by our inability to get the boxing-glove +off of Paddy's big right hand; the left he had removed himself on +receipt of the bill. We finally cut it off him, formed in line of march, +and threading our way through the wings, joined the last stragglers of +the audience as they filed out. I tried hard to subdue the spirits of my +companions, but with little success. Jim and Harry were greatly elated, +and Tom (who of all men enjoys winning) was now as bad as the others, +and deserting me, left the conservative vote in a very decided minority.</p> + +<p>There was certainly nothing lacking in the perfect success of the +evening but the fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> that "Dinny, the copper," the great object of our +search, had evaded us. I voted to give him up and go back to the hotel; +the others hesitated, but Tom, who never despairs,—Tom still declared +that Dinny would yet appear. Tom is a man who has faith that a ball team +will win with the score five to one against in the ninth inning, two +out, and a weak hitter at the bat.</p> + +<p>Jim and Harry were too much elated by their success with Paddy in the +"squared circle" to ask for much else. In fact, they were slightly +hilarious. The intoxication of victory, on top of their efforts to "kape +the night out," was a bit too much for them. In passing along they +tipped over a table by the door, sending a shower of play-bills on the +floor, and when a stout fellow remonstrated, Jim promptly "crowned" his +derby hat with a blow that sent it down to his chin.</p> + +<p>In the lobby the big wooden statue of Terpsichore, standing in scant +attire, with one foot lifted for the dance, caught Harry's eye. He +whispered to Jim and Paddy, and before I could interfere, they had torn +her from her fastenings, and "stood the old girl on her head." As the +muse was being balanced in this undignified position in the corner, +there suddenly arose a cry of "Police!" "Police!" in high-pitched and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +nasal tones from the ticket office. It was Paddy's "ancient enemy" who +had discovered us, with his face close to the aperture, secure in the +protection of the window. He called lustily, until a huge fist swung +through the hole, and landed on the Roman nose with a dull, sickening +thud. Silence followed Paddy's skilful blow, but the mischief was done, +for there suddenly appeared through the door behind us a knock-kneed +bobby, club in hand. Tom called "'Ware the cop!" and by giving the +promptest kind of leg bail they just escaped him, bolting out the door, +and across the Bowery, the crooked-legged copper close after.</p> + +<p>Harry, who was leading, swung down a dimly lighted alley, Jim and Paddy +following in order. The policeman, who apparently had little confidence +in his ability to catch such nimble-footed gentry, stopped at the +corner, and commenced a devil's tattoo with his night club on the +pavement as a signal for some compatriot to head off the fugitives. Tom +and I, who were close up, dashed by him without a word, resolved to +stick to our friends, no matter what the cost. Tom was chuckling with +delight, gave me a look over his shoulder, and set a killing pace, with +the laudable ambition of running me off my feet, as well as distancing +our pursuers. Chasing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> and being chased is one of the primitive +pleasures of man, and I doubt if we ever quite outgrow it. We cut +through the darkness, with the cool night air in our faces, sprinting +over the slippery cobble-stones of the pavement as if in the finals of a +"hundred." There was a mad pleasure in it all, and the listening for +sounds of pursuit and the looking sharply ahead for threatening danger +added a double zest. It reminded me of a night in old Lancashire, when +with some schoolmates I had raided a farmer's orchard, and with the +spoils under our jackets we had led him a cross-country run of a couple +of miles, knowing that a good thrashing was close behind as the +punishment for a stumble or a temporary shortness of breath.</p> + +<p>We were gaining on the three dark forms ahead, for we could see them +more and more plainly as they bobbed against the lights at the end of +the street. Occasionally some one would yell at us from a window or +doorway, but the pounding of the knock-kneed bobby was growing more and +more faint, and we heard no footsteps at all behind us. We had almost +reached Paddy, whose boxing efforts had told on his endurance, and I was +just about to call to Jim and Harry, when suddenly there emerged from +the darkness a herculean figure in brass buttons.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>It floated into the middle of the alley, like the ghost of Hamlet's +father, silent, huge, portentous. A long arm reached for Harry as he +dodged to one side of the alley, and gathered the little fellow in, +while Jim slid by on the other side. Paddy sprang to Harry's assistance, +and got a blow with the flat of the hand that sent him in a heap on the +pavement. Jim was about to mix in the fracas, but Tom and I, who knew +better than to assail the majesty of the law, caught and held him. For a +moment neither of us spoke, watching Harry's futile struggles. He was +being held firmly, but gently, like a fractious child, and a voice of a +richness that cast Paddy's brogue quite in the shade said soothingly, +"Arrah there, be aisy. It's hurtin' yesel' ye are. Be aisy, or I'll pull +ye in."</p> + +<p>I was glad to hear the figure speak, for the silence was quite uncanny. +Tom advanced in that conciliatory way of his when he feels that he has a +delicate task before him, and was about to make his little appeal, with +one hand on the roll of bills in his pocket, when Paddy, who had sat up +at the sound of the voice, and was looking fixedly at Harry's captor, +gave a howl of mingled surprise and joy, and exclaimed, "Begorry, Dinny, +ye Connemara divil, let the lad go, or I'll break yer face."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>At these words Harry stopped his struggles and Jim abandoned his efforts +to break away from me. Tom stood with his mouth wide open, uncertain +what to do, and I waited as if I was watching a play, and the dramatic +climax was about to be sprung on me.</p> + +<p>Paddy rose slowly and unsteadily to his feet; and the big policeman took +him by the collar with his unoccupied hand, and led him to the light of +a little window, where he studied his face a moment in silence. +Gradually over the big copper's face there spread a grin of recognition, +his brown mustache drawing up at the corners, despite his efforts to +look severe.</p> + +<p>"Sure, 'tis yesilf, Patrick, ye blaguard," he said at last, shaking his +head; "but frind or no frind, divil a wan o' me cares, if wrong ye've +done."</p> + +<p>"It's only a bit av a lark, an' no harm at all, at all," answered Paddy; +and then he told the story of the evening, the search, the boxing +contest, and the mischief in the lobby, making as little as possible of +the latter, and expatiating at length on our efforts to find "Dinny, the +copper," with our extreme pleasure at final success. He ended by +introducing us all with much pride and satisfaction.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dinny listened at first with suspicion, afterward with a flash in his +blue eyes as Paddy described his victory over Johnson, and finally with +a slow smile, expanding into a grin, as the adventure in the lobby was +described.</p> + +<p>When Paddy finished, the "arm-of-the-law" turned without a word, letting +Harry and Paddy go free again, tapped on the little window, through +whose brown curtain enough light had streamed to make recognition +possible, and waited in silence until there came a sound of moving +bolts. He then pushed a door open, led us through a dark entry, and into +a little back room, where was a long table, plenty of chairs, and a +kettle singing on the stove in the corner. I have a suspicion that it +was from this very same snug retreat that Dinny emerged when the sound +of the rattling night club disturbed him. I learned that the little room +was the sanctum sanctorum of the widow Rafferty, whose bar-room in front +was too public to suit the refined taste of Mr. Dennis Sullivan, and was +also perhaps more exposed to the gaze of an inquisitive inspector.</p> + +<p>Dinny went to a corner cupboard, with the air of a man who knew the way, +took from it a brown jug, and placed it carefully on the table with a +half-dozen tumblers. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> pointed to the chairs with a wave of his hand, +and when we were seated he broke the silence with, "Gintlemen, 'tis +proud I am to meet ye all, though in bad company ye come" (the last with +a smile at Paddy). "I've a little something here" (looking fondly at the +jug) "will kape the night out; 'tis the rale old stuff, such as we used +to drink in old Connemara. 'Tis aisy I've been with yes, but, faith, I +swear to pull in ivery mother's son that will not drink with me."</p> + +<p>We all filled our glasses, though Tom called us to witness that he drank +under protest, and only through fear of arrest. Just how long we +lingered in the widow Rafferty's back room I cannot tell, but we +discovered Dinny to be the very prince of coppers, able to tell a good +story and sing a better song. He was a broth of a boy, and would have +gladdened the eyes of the manager of a football team. He stood six feet +three in his stockings, and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, all +good stuff, and as hard as nails. His uniform was fresh, and fitted him +like a glove, while every button was bright as a West Point cadet's. +When we came to part with him it was with mutual expressions of good +will, which were increased when we discovered he had sent for a +carriage, and the same awaited us in the dark alley. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> he has his dues +he is chief of police by this time.</p> + +<p>We were a bit quiet on the way home, a little weary, and very contented +and happy. There was a hint of the morning in the east as we alighted at +the hotel, and the lobby was silent and deserted.</p> + +<p>We were much pleased to find that the elevator was still running, and we +climbed aboard, at peace with all the world, and just ready for bed. As +Tom said, a five minutes earlier or later would have spoiled it. When we +reached the third floor, Paddy insisted that we must go with him to the +fifth, so we kept on, and Harry unlocked the door and Jim lit the gas. +When we bade him "good-night" and the elevator began to drop, he stood +in his doorway, a smile of perfect bliss shining on his honest face. He +waved his big hand at us with a gesture that was half farewell, half a +benediction, and murmured huskily "An' ivery wan a winner."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of At Start and Finish, by William Lindsey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT START AND FINISH *** + +***** This file should be named 39668-h.htm or 39668-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/6/6/39668/ + +Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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