"Hey!" he said, uncertain of his voice, "come down here, will you?"
Hugo descended the spiral iron staircase. He was breathing with ease. Woodman stared at him. "Lessee you jump."
Hugo was familiar with the distances for jumping made in track meets. He was careful not to overdo his effort. His running jump was twenty-eight feet, and his standing jump was eleven feet and some inches. Woodman's face ran water. His eyes gleamed. "Danner," he said, "where did you get that way?"
"What way?"
"I mean—what have you done all your life?"
"Nothing. Gone to school."
"Two hundred and eleven pounds," Woodman muttered, "run like an Olympic champ—jump like a kangaroo—how's your kicking?"
"All right, I guess."
"Passing?"
"All right, I guess."