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Updated: May 29, 2025
There were four of us in the finals, Fosgill, Tanner and Burt of the enemy, and I. Of course Patsy was there, and he worked like a Trojan. You could see, though, that it went against the grain with him to fetch for our opponents; Patsy had a good deal of the primeval left in him. And it's safe to say that no one there was more interested.
I told him so." He glanced at me: "Did you beat that other chap?" I nodded and Patsy looked at me with a new respect. "Good for you," he whispered. "Are you does it hurt much, Patsy?" asked Fosgill. "No, not much." "That's good. We'll have you out before long." Patsy grinned. "Shut up!" he whispered. "You can't fool me, Bull. I'm a goner." Fosgill muttered something and Patsy's eyes brightened.
He used to wait outside the Locker Building until we came out after dressing and then walk beside Fosgill until he reached the Square. Then Patsy would say: "Good night, Bull." And Fosgill would answer gravely: "Good night, Patsy." And Patsy would disappear.
Some, one mentioned Patsy, and Mosher spoke up: "Say, fellows, let's see that that little cuss does get into college. What do you say?" "I'll go you!" cried Fosgill. "He's an all-right kid, is Patsy, and he deserves something better than spending his life on the streets. We'll adopt him." "Sure thing," said Allen. "But we'll have our hands full. And what's to happen when we leave college?"
You've been good to me; so's the others." He closed his eyes wearily for a moment. Then, "Do you think," he asked slowly, "I could have learned to put the shot, Bull some day?" "Yes," answered Fosgill sturdily. "You had the making of a great shot putter, Patsy. You'd have made a record for yourself, I'll bet!" "Are you kiddin' me, Bull?" "No, Patsy. I'll leave it to the others.
It's tough, but I guess I can do it. Was was it hard for you?" I was forced to acknowledge that it had been. "An' you ain't much of a shot putter, either," said Patsy reflectively. Fosgill had done forty-two, eight and a half that afternoon and we were feeling pretty hopeful and good-natured after dinner.
But it was Patsy who acted. He threw himself like a little catapult at Fosgill and sent him staggering across the turf. Then Patsy and the shot went down together. It was all beastly sudden and nasty. When we bent over that poor little kid he was sort of greenish-white and I'll never forget the way his freckles stood out.
And it happened like this: When the Dual Meet came along in June we were all to the good. We couldn't see how we were to lose first in anything except the quarter, the high hurdles, the hammer throw and the broad jump. And we had enough seconds and thirds in sight to make good. If Bull Fosgill could beat Tanner with the shot we were it.
When the gates were closed and fellows had to show their H. A. A. tickets to get in, Patsy was admitted without question. When all the other youngsters for miles around were gluing their faces to the iron fence watching the baseball games, Patsy's allegiance never faltered. He was somewhere around Fosgill, regarding that hero with worshiping gaze.
I don't think he doubted for a moment that Fosgill would win, and I fancy he thought me pretty cheeky for aspiring so far as the final round. Fosgill was ahead with forty-one, ten and a half, Tanner had done three inches under that, and Burt and I were fighting along for third place, doing around thirty-eight, six. It was pretty close work, and even the officials were excited.
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