“Five for Gus! Stick to it, Gus, and you’ll win!”
“Andy should not have tried it with that sore wrist!”
Amid encouraging cries and various criticisms, the “chinning” went on until Gus Coulter had pulled himself up twelve times. Andy had gone up ten times. Gus was trying his best to get up the thirteenth time, but seemed unable to make it.
Andy’s wrist felt as if it was on fire, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out with pain. But he clung to the bar and slowly but surely went up the eleventh time, and then the twelfth. Then he went up the thirteenth—just as Coulter did likewise.
“A tie!” was the cry.
Again the two boys tried to rise. But Gus Coulter’s total strength was gone, and all he could do was to raise himself a few inches. He hung from the bar and glared at Andy.
“Want to call it a tie?” he gasped.
“No!” answered Andy, shortly, and then went up again. Gus could do no more, and he dropped to the floor. Then with a quick movement Andy raised himself up once again, and again, and then a third time—and then let go.
“Hurrah! Andy Snow wins!”
“He went up seventeen times to Coulter’s thirteen.”