“Oh, you let me alone!” exclaimed the exasperated one. With that he jumped, and then, with a measuring tape, he carefully noted the distance he had covered.
“Any gain?” asked Sid.
“No; I went back an inch then,” was the reply.
“Like the frog in the well,” went on Phil. “He jumped up three feet every day, and fell back four feet every night.”
“Aw, quit!” begged Grasshopper, who was sensitive, in spite of his enormous bulk.
“You go high enough, but you don’t go far enough,” commented Sid. “Now, if they allow hurdling in football, you’d be right in it for jumping over the line to make a touch-down.”
“Maybe they’ll change the rules so as to allow it,” spoke Grasshopper hopefully.
“Get out, you old Stoic!” cried Phil. “Come and take a walk with us. Tom is going to blow us to ginger ale.”
“No; I’m going to keep at it until I beat my best mark,” and the jumper again got on the line.
“Curious chap,” commented Phil, as the three chums walked on.