Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

by Matthew M. Colton

"Good enough!" yelled Jimmy; "of course you were. That chump who was swimming behind Peters got in your way. I saw him cut across and block you."

"I don't think so," said Frank; "he was all in and didn't do it on purpose."

"I know better than that, and I'd swear it was a put-up job. You can beat Peters any day from ten yards to a million miles," said the indignant Jimmy. "I kicked to the referee about it, but he wouldn't allow a foul because Bates didn't touch you. Did he?"

"No," said Frank; "I had to shift a little for him and it put me out a bit. I don't think it made any difference in the race. Peters was too fast for me."

"Get out," said Jimmy, still hot and angry; "you know he isn't. I'd bet my boots you could beat him any day, and if I were you, I'd challenge him for a race with no one around to get in your way."

"I've had enough for to-day," said Frank. "We ought to get dressed and headed for home as soon as we can. There are some black clouds coming up over there in the west."

It was as Frank said. The day had been a warm one and thunder heads were now showing in the west. Down toward the horizon the clouds were piled thick and black, and every now and then the denser masses were edged by a little ribbon of fire. The lightning was beginning to play. The top of the pile was still white, for the lowering sun was shining full upon it; but soon this white top, climbing rapidly, shut off the sun.

The wind had just begun to pick up in puffs and eddies and the sailboats were scudding about like anxious swallows, when Mr. Armstrong hurried up to the dressing room where Frank was getting into his clothes. "Mother and I have a chance to go back on the trolley. Hurry up, son," he said. "It looks so bad over there to the west," jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the towering thunder-heads, "that I think you had better wait till the storm is over. Mother is nervous about your going to Seawall in the Black Duck."

"Oh, I guess we could get home all right," said Frank. "It isn't going to be very heavy, is it?"

For answer there came a blinding flash, and almost on its heels a roar of thunder that made the bathing houses dance on their foundations. The wind was running before the storm with almost hurricane force, lashing the sea into whitecaps.