His failure was the signal for Fret Offut to break out into a loud laugh, which was instantly caught up by the workmen, until the whole building rang with the merriment.
“Baby!” some one cried. “See Mires carry his. North ain’t got the strength of a mouse!”
By that time Mires had reached the opposite end of the shop, and was putting down his burden to turn and join in the outbursts over the discomfiture of his young companion.
Jack had now awakened to the realization that he had been the easy victim of a scheme to cast ridicule upon him.
Mires could never have carried away this wheel. The thought of the trick which had been played upon him aroused all the latent energy he possessed. He did not believe the wheel could weigh five hundred pounds, and if it did not he would lift it, as he believed he could.
Thus, with the shouts and laughter of the spectators ringing in his ears, Jack stooped for a second attempt to accomplish what no one else had ever been able to do.
“I’ll grunt for you!” called Offut in derision. “Spit on your hands!” said a workman. Jack compressed his lips for a mighty effort, and his hands closed on the rim of the wheel, while he concentrated every atom of strength he had for the herculean task.
The cries of the onlookers suddenly stopped as they saw, to their amazement, the ponderous object rise from the floor, slowly but surely, until the young workman held it abreast of him. Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness, save for the crunching of his own footsteps, as Jack North walked across the shop and dropped his burden upon the wheel Mires had placed there.
A loud crash succeeded, the heavy iron wheel having broken the imitation into kindling wood and smashed into the floor.
The cries of derision were supplemented by loud calls of admiration, which rang through and through the old building until a perfect din prevailed.