"Yes," spoke up little Billy, "and I know him too. Case Boal is a daisy."
"A daisy is he?" asked the Colonel, looking down at the little fellow's flushed face. "He looks to me more like a big red rose. Do you throw the hammer too?"
"No," answered Billy, gravely, "though I've got a cousin, most fifteen, who throws the twelve-pound hammer, and is a 'cracker jack.'"
"A cracker jack, is he?" inquired the Colonel; "and are you a cracker jack too?"
"Oh no," answered Billy, "I'm not much. I sprint a little, and won second place in the 'hundred' at my school games this spring. I want to run the 'quarter,' but dad won't let me till I'm older. That was his distance, and when I go to college I shall try for the quarter too."
"Bless his heart," said the Colonel to me. "Are there many American boys like him?"
"The woods are full of them," I answered. "There goes Brown; I want you to see him throw. He will not do Boal's distance, but is improving every day, and has a very pretty style. He is probably a few yards better than Greenshields, and Baines can hardly get the hammer away at all. The Englishmen have really no show in this event, for it is not cultivated as it should be in the Universities."
"Why, then," asked the Colonel, "did our men include it with no hope of winning?"
"It was a very sportsmanlike thing to do," declared Furness, "and arranged in much the same spirit as the three-mile run, which is a distance unknown in America, and in which we have not the least chance."