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So he sent you his regards and said to tell you he'd taken your advice and was still going on breaking his own record." Daylight had long since told Dede of the incident. "Slosson?" he meditated, "Slosson? That must be the hammer-thrower. He put my hand down twice, the young scamp." He turned suddenly to Dede. "Say, it's only twelve miles to Santa Rosa, and the horses are fresh."
"Yes, he is that," replied Danny with enthusiastic admiration, "and a hammer-thrower, too, he is." "What! yon stripling?" "You may say it. He can beat Mack there." "Mack!" cried Isa, with scorn. "It's just big lies you are telling me." "Indeed, he has beaten Mack's best throw many a time." "And how do you know?" exclaimed Isa. "He said so himself." "Ah ha!" said Isa scornfully.
All the time they were driving the seine-boat to its limit, and the skipper was laying to the big steering oar, the longest of them all and taking a strong man to handle it properly laying to it, swinging from the waist like a hammer-thrower, and the boat jumping to it. She came jumping right for us in the dory in a little while.
The charco, or water hole, was twelve yards away. Ranse took one of Curly's ankles and dragged him like a sack of potatoes to the brink. Then with the strength and sleight of a hammer-thrower he hurled the offending member of society far into the lake. Curly crawled out and up the bank spluttering like a porpoise. Ranse met him with a piece of soap and a coarse towel in his hands.
Thank you." I went back to the sitting-room. She hadn't moved an inch. She was still bolt upright on the edge of her chair, gripping her umbrella like a hammer-thrower. She gave me another of those looks as I came in. There was no doubt about it; for some reason she had taken a dislike to me. I suppose because I wasn't George M. Cohan. It was a bit hard on a chap. "This is a surprise, what?"
He was, as Irving understood, the best oarsman in the school, captain of the school crew, besides being the crack shot-putter and hammer-thrower; if he and Collingwood had together chosen to throw their influence against a new master, life would indeed have been hard.
No wonder the hammer-thrower had put his hand down. Those weren't muscles. A rising tide of fat had submerged them. He stripped off the pajama coat. Again he was shocked, this time but the bulk of his body. It wasn't pretty. The lean stomach had become a paunch. The ridged muscles of chest and shoulders and abdomen had broken down into rolls of flesh.
He and his party had registered at the Oberlin Hotel, and Daylight encountered the young hammer-thrower himself in the office. "Look here, son," Daylight announced, as soon as he had introduced Dede, "I've come to go you another flutter at that hand game. Here's a likely place." Slosson smiled and accepted.
And the issue was too clear for him to dodge, even with himself. He knew why his hand had gone down. Not because he was an old man. He was just in the first flush of his prime, and, by rights, it was the hand of the hammer-thrower which should have gone down. Daylight knew that he had taken liberties with himself.
You are a piper, a dancer, a hammer-thrower, and now a runner." "Jack-of-all-trades," laughed Perkins, who, with Mandy, was standing near. "Yes, but you can't say 'Master of none," replied Isa sharply. "Better wait," said Cameron. "I have entered this race only to save Mr. Freeman from collapse." "Collapse? Fatty? He couldn't," said Isa with emphasis. "Lass, I do not know," said Mack gravely.
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