Bert Wilson, Marathon Winner Part 13

He was really a marvel of strength, but some of the sailors on board, while they admitted that "the big guy could sure throw that plate around" still believed that at least one of their number had the 'goods'

on him. They pinned their faith on a big, red haired Irishman of their number, who had won fame in many a rough and tumble battle, and swore that no 'college guy' who ever lived could throw him. The athletes had equal faith in Drake, however, and knew that he had at one time taken considerable interest in scientific wrestling. This fact, combined with his phenomenal strength, made them certain he could throw the big sailor.

For some time there had been considerable controversy between the athletes and the crew, all in a good natured strain, however. The sailors were anxious to pit their champion against Drake, but the latter had felt that such a contest would interfere with his training, and so had held off.

That morning, however, the big Irish sailor had made a vaunting remark that had "gotten Drake's goat," and made the big fellow resolve to bring matters to an issue once and for all.

He confided his resolve to Bert and a few chosen pals, and they were glad to hear it, for the crew had all along adopted a skeptical att.i.tude toward the athletes, and referred to them more than once as the "college kids."

Accordingly they decided to challenge the big sailor that very night, and d.i.c.k was intrusted with the task. They decided to meet the man (Donahue by name), on his own terms, so that afterward the sailors could have no possible grounds of complaint.

In pursuance of this plan d.i.c.k went forward to the sailors' quarters immediately after supper, and found Donahue and some of his friends lying in their berths smoking black clay pipes and swapping yarns, as was their custom off watch, when they felt strong enough to stand the strain.

"And phwat's the matter now, young felly?" inquired Donahue, when he saw d.i.c.k coming down the ladder. "Sit down awhile and make yersilf comfortable. I was jist goin' to tell my mates o' the time Oi was wrecked on a cannibal island an' married the chief's daughter, an----"

But here d.i.c.k interrupted him. "I'm afraid I won't have time to listen just now," he said. "I've come from my friend Drake (the discus thrower, you know), and he wants me to say that he thinks he can throw the best wrestler you've got here, bar none."

"Oh, he does, does he?" growled Donahue, "all right, me bye, you just go back and tell him that Oi'm ready for him any minute of the day, or night too fer that matter. How does he want to run the match? Under a lot o' fancy rules, Oi suppose."

"Not on your tintype," replied d.i.c.k, warmly, "this is to be catch as catch can, and the best man wins. You haven't any objection to that, have you?"

"Divil a bit," said the sailor, "thim terms suits me all right. What do ye say mates? When shall we run off the match?"

"What would be the matter with to-morrow evening right after supper?"

inquired d.i.c.k, "you might as well take your licking then as any other time, Donahue, and get the agony over with."

"Lickin', is ut?" said the big Irishman, grimly. "Lickin' it may be, but it won't be me as gets it, you can lay to that. Bring on your man after supper to-morrow evenin' at about this time, and Oi'll stretch me muscles a little before goin' to sleep. Me heart's full o' pity for your man, though. It seems a shame to do ut," and he grinned and gave a tremendous and elaborate yawn.

"All right, we'll be here," replied d.i.c.k, "only if you've got any sympathy to spare, I'd advise saving it for your own private use.

You'll need plenty of it."

"Well, that's as may be," replied Donahue, and after settling a few more details d.i.c.k left.

Returning to his companions, he acquainted them with the result of his mission, and Drake expressed himself as perfectly satisfied with the conditions.

"I don't antic.i.p.ate much trouble," he said. "I guess there's no doubt but what that harp is pretty strong, but its simply a matter of muscle against brain, and muscle doesn't usually make out very well in that case."

"Yes, but you've got to be mighty careful," warned d.i.c.k. "That sailor is one of the strongest men I ever saw, and is capable of giving you a good deal of trouble. I'll be much surprised if he doesn't give you a mighty hard tussle."

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a minute," replied Drake, "still I think I have the goods on him. We won't have to wait very long to find out, that's sure."

After a little further discussion in the same vein the boys dispersed for the night.

Of course, Reddy had gathered a pretty good idea of what was going forward, and at first he had decided to interfere, but later changed his mind. "I guess it won't hurt the boy," he reflected, "he's tough as a piece of armor plate, and it may do him good to give his muscles a good work out. There's nothing like a little excitement once in a while to tone a man up and put him in the pink of condition."

Accordingly Reddy "winked his other eye," as the saying goes, and let the boys go on with their preparations unmolested.

CHAPTER XIII

A HUSKY ANTAGONIST

The next day pa.s.sed quietly, and the athletes spent it profitably in unbroken training exercises, and Reddy felt that they were rounding into form in a manner to suit even his critical eye. He watched the runners circling the track, the jumpers practising, and last, but not least, the discus and hammer throwers hurling the heavy weights from the stern of the ship. His sharp eye watched Drake's performance with particular care, but the latter showed no sign of concern over the coming contest, and laughed and joked with the others as though nothing unusual were in the wind. At his last attempt he gave an unusually savage heave to the heavy disc, and it sailed far out over the shining, sparkling water. The cord attached to it whizzed through the air, and when pulled in the plate was found to have traveled one hundred and thirty-two feet flat.

"Good for you, Drake. That's the kind of stuff I want to see!" exclaimed the trainer, and Drake flushed a little with pleasure. Reddy gave so little praise that when he did speak well of any performance his words had a double value. Which was perhaps his object. Who knows?

"Well, it wasn't so bad, I suppose," said Drake, "but I guess I'll rest on my laurels now, and take it easy the rest of the day. I'll bet any money that before we get to Berlin I'll be crowding the record for all its worth, though."

"Maybe so, maybe so," growled Reddy, who seemed to regret his praise, "but you've got to keep plugging, and plugging hard, if you expect to do it. That's the trouble with a lot of athletes, and a good many others who aren't athletes; they quit just when the goal's in sight, and lose all their effort for nothing. It's usually the last few yards of a race that are the hardest, and it's then that the quitting streak shows up in a lot of people."

"Well, I'm not going to quit," said Drake, a little resentfully.

"I know that, me boy," replied Reddy, in a softer voice. "Me little sermon wasn't meant for you."

One of the hammer throwers created a diversion here, by getting his string tangled in the bulwarks, and not noticing it until he had hurled the heavy missile. Before it had traveled half its distance it reached the end of the cord, which snapped like a cobweb under the weight.

"Good night," exclaimed the thrower, gazing ruefully at the frazzled end of the cord as it whipped inboard, "there's a hammer gone to visit Davy Jones, all right."

"Gee!" laughed Tom, who was sitting near, "I hope it doesn't hit the old gentleman on the head. He may not appreciate the gift, if it did."

"I wouldn't blame him much for feeling peeved," said d.i.c.k, "it wouldn't be the most comfortable thing in the world to have that drop in on you unexpected-like. I think the old sport would have right on his side, myself."

"I think you're right, d.i.c.k," said Bert, "and I think that to atone for the insult we ought to throw old Snyder overboard. What do you think, fellows? It might keep Dave from wreaking his vengeance on the whole ship. A st.i.tch in time saves nine, you know."

"Overboard with him," yelled the laughing group, but Drake held up his hand in silence.

"You seem to forget, fellows," he said, in a solemn voice, "that as yet we're not absolutely certain that the old gentleman has been hit. I suggest, therefore, that we spare Snyder until Mr. Jones calls for him in person. Then we will hand him over without protest, of course, in fact, gladly."

"Oh, well, I suppose we might as well postpone the pleasure, seeing that you suggest it," said Bert. "It's a big disappointment, though."

Accordingly the boys solemnly agreed to spare Snyder's life for the time being, and the baited hammer thrower went forward to get a new hammer from the reserve supply.

He soon returned, and this time was more careful of his string before letting fly. He showed well in the practice, and Reddy was well pleased with his work. "I guess he'll do," he thought to himself, "he's getting slowly better all the time, and that's what I like to see. These 'phenoms' aren't all they're cracked up to be. They show up well for a while, and then like as not they go all to pieces. I'll take a chance on a good, steady, hard working man every time. They're the ones you can count on in the pinches."

Practice went on without further interruption until lunch time, and everybody did ample justice to the well cooked meal. The constant exercise, combined with the invigorating sea air, gave them appet.i.tes that it took much to satisfy, and which caused wondering comment in the galley.

"Zey eat more zan I zink possible," the little French chef had exclaimed at the beginning of the voyage, with uplifted hands. "I cook an' cook, and still zey have not too much. Mon Dieu! Zey will drive me--wat you call heem--bughouse. Eet is no wondaire zey are strong."

In one way the little cook was not displeased, however, for at any rate he could complain of no lack of appreciation of his cooking.

After everything had been demolished the athletes repaired to the deck, and did whatever pleased them for a couple of hours. Some played deck games, while others were content to read or gaze out idly over the sparkling blue ocean. The weather was ideal, and since the storm that had wrecked the schooner hardly a cloud had appeared in the sky. Bingo appreciated the fair weather immensely, and began to get his looks back, which had suffered somewhat under his recent hardships. He was now firmly intrenched in the affections of every athlete on board, and had been accepted unreservedly as their mascot.

He was friendly with everybody, but his real affection seemed divided between Bert, Tom and d.i.c.k. He always followed them around, and evidently considered them his especial guardians, as they had been his rescuers.

They in turn saw that he had plenty to eat, and made a great pet of him generally. He seemed to take a deep interest in everything that went on, and would watch the boys training with the wisest look imaginable on his doggish face.

This particular afternoon he was not in sight, however, when d.i.c.k and Bert went to hunt up Drake. They found him finally, stretched out in a steamer chair, and reading a book as though he had nothing in the world on his mind.