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Near the scales was an anvil, and leaning against the anvil-block was a heavy sledge. As the old merchant turned from him, he had caught up the sledge and had struck him a savage blow on the head. McBride had dropped to the floor without cry or groan. Langham passed his hand before his eyes to blot out the vision of that still figure on the floor, and a dry sob burst from his lips.
Bummie Booth, who had stood the strain of the contest wonderfully well, and had played a grand game against Hale, gave way to Horace Bannard, brother of Bill Bannard, the famous Princeton halfback of '98. It was no wonder that Princeton was downcast when McBride scored the touchdown and the goal was about to be kicked.
"I am not to be touching that man," said Bryde, and his face was dark red. "Have I to live to see one of my name a coward a bastard and a coward?" "By the living God, you lie, Hugh McBride," said Bryde through his teeth, and struck Hugh on the mouth with the back of his hand.
There was a day too when Hugh McBride and Helen came a-riding on the moors, and the thought came to me that both were a little sobered, and the lass had not the same gaiety about her; but I was thinking maybe she would be anxious about the Laird of Scaurdale, for there was word that he would not be keeping so very well of late.
We had a' the lads to pick and choose among, Bell and me; and mora, it was not gear they cam' courting for. "There was a time we slept in the bochan to be nearer the beasts, we would be telling the old ones, but maybe it was not for that at all, for your grandfather was raiking then, Dan McBride, it kinna runs in the breed o' ye.
"I would not be having him less," she cried, a little pleased as I thought; and then, as she turned to go, "There's a bonny wild lass at McCurdy's old hut, Dan, and she told me where to look for ye. Ye might tell her Mirren Stuart was speiring for her kindly, and thinking naething of Dan McBride, for the look she gied me out o' her black een made me grue." So Belle was still at McCurdy's hut.
"Yes," replied Kennedy, "what of him?" "He's the house detective, McBride. Would you like to meet him? He's full of good stories, an interesting chap. I met him at a dinner given to the President not long ago and he told me a great yarn about how the secret service, the police, and the hotel combined to guard the President during the dinner.
"Gordon Brown's team, under Malcolm McBride as head coach, was a wonder. This eleven, to our minds, was the best ever turned out by Yale University. They defeated Princeton 29 to 5, and the powerful Harvard team 28 to 0. Their one weakness was that they had no long punter, but, as they expressed it to me afterward, they had no need of one.
"Let's see if we can revive them," suggested Lieutenant McBride, nodding toward Uncle Ezra and his fellow soldiers. "Then we will consider what is best to do." Simple restoratives were carried aboard Dick's airship, and these were given to Uncle Ezra, who revived first. He opened his eyes and sat up. "Where where am I?" he stammered. "Did I win the race?"
"Well, we've never tried the hydroplanes in rough water, and there is always the chance for an accident. Stand out where you can jump, if you have to," he directed. Lieutenant McBride was standing with his watch out, ready to note the exact second of landing. He knew he must be officially correct, though he would give Dick every possible chance and favor.
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