"Nothing will stop him but an attack of apoplexy before his first jump," declared Tom, positively. "He will not need to take another. I saw him in the spring games, and a more natural jumper I never saw. He is at least a foot better than Daly, who I believe never made a broad jump in public until it was known he might be needed by his college."
"You ought to see him play football," said Billy here, looking up at the Colonel with admiring eyes. "He's a 'dandy,' and just as cool as that 'measurer' over there," pointing to a gentleman who had bent over the many throws of the hammer until he was in a most profuse perspiration. At this there was a laugh from all round, which was followed by another as Billy's example of coolness wiped his beaded brow.
The "hammer" and "long jump" are not very rapid events at best, but they answered very well while the late-comers were finding their seats. I was particularly pleased to note that Tom had eyes only for Vassall, whose easy style took his fancy amazingly, while the Colonel saw nothing to admire but the Americans' exhibition with the weight.
He borrowed the glasses from the little girl behind him, with whom he had become very friendly for so reserved a man, and watched Brown carefully as he planted his feet firmly in the seven-feet circle, swung the heavy hammer around his head again and again without moving from his ground, until with a last fierce effort he sent the missile whirling through the air in a long arc to strike with a dull thud.
Just as the Colonel started to comment on it admiringly, however, he was interrupted by a cheer as on one of the flag-poles that rose side by side in front of the royal box the Union Jack was hoisted to indicate that England had won the first event. A little later on the other pole the Stars and Stripes were run up, and we knew that the "hammer throw" had gone to the Americans, and honors were easy.
The blackboard showed that Vassall had jumped his twenty-three feet, and Boal had thrown one hundred and thirty-six feet eight and one-half inches, both very excellent performances.
The Colonel was enjoying himself immensely, and I was gratified to see how much at home he had made himself. He found in Furness a very congenial spirit, Billy was a boy after his own heart, and the young ladies behind him were interesting enough to take quite a little of his attention. He was telling them something about a polo match in India when I interrupted him to point out the men going to their marks for the "hundred-yard dash."
We could look along the splendid track with the narrow laneways made by the white cords. Hind of Oxford inside, then Quinlan with an "H" on his crimson jersey, then Thomas with the narrow stripes of dark blue, and outside Blount with a jersey of the same color and the "Y" on his breast.
"Who wins here?" asked the Colonel.
"I give it up," answered Tom; "this is a race."