“Look at him, getting right up alongside the kicker!” exclaimed Nick, with an expression of amazement on his rosy face; for he could not help admiring the nerve exhibited by his rival, even though deep down in his heart he hoped the other might fail to land the prize.
“Sure he is!” laughed Josh. “Why, just keep your eye peeled, Nick, old boy, and my word for it, you’ll see our little chum climb right on the back of that bucking broncho of the gulf, put a bridle in his mouth, and ride him home!”
“Oh! rats! you can’t get me to believe that!” Nick flashed back; and yet, despite his brave words, he watched the actions of the Irish lad with deep anxiety, as if believing that no one could tell what wonderful things Jimmy might not attempt.
“Look there, would you!” he exclaimed, a few seconds later; “what under the sun has Jimmy got now!”
“Seems to me like it’s our ax!” declared George, with a harsh laugh.
“Ax!” snorted the indignant Nick; “d’ye mean to tell me he expects to knock that poor porpoise on the head, just like they do steers at the stockyards; and then claim he caught him? Well, I like that, now!”
“It’s all in the game, Nick,” declared Herb, consolingly. “Remember, you didn’t use a fish hook and line to bag your big jewfish; just slung a rope around his gills, and walked away with him through the shallow water near the shore. I reckon even an ax might count, so long as he keeps the fish, and brings him in!”
“Sho!” Nick went on, as though disgusted; “but just think of getting a fish with such a tool, as if you were just chopping a tree!”
“Watch him, now, if you want to see how Jimmy goes at it; perhaps you may be only too glad to do the same thing later on, when you want to climb up and throw him off the first rung of the ladder,” Herb remarked.
“Yes,” said wise Josh, “it makes all the difference in the world what position you hold when condemning practices. What looks bad to you, seems fair and square to Jimmy right now.”