"You got the swing perfectly. It was a
dream. And if you had put your full strength into it you would have made
a world record. Why, man, you could add ten feet to it!"
"It is a fluke!" said McGee again, as he took his place.
"Make one like it, then, my lad," said Black Duncan with a grim smile.
But this McGee failed to do, for his throw measured ninety-seven feet.
"A very fair throw, McGee," said Black Duncan. "But not your best, and
nothing but the best will do the day appearingly."
With that Black Duncan took place for his throw. One--twice--thrice he
swung the great hammer about his head, then sent it whirling into the
air. Again a mighty shout announced a great throw and again a dead
silence waited for the measurement.
"One hundred and fourteen feet!"
"Aha!" said Black Duncan, and stepped back apparently well satisfied.
It was again Mack's turn.
"You have the privilege of allowing your first throw to stand," said Dr.
Kane.
"Best let it stand, lad, till it iss beat," advised Black Duncan kindly.
"It iss a noble throw."
"He can do better, though," said Cameron.
"Very well, very well!" said Duncan. "Let him try."
But Mack's success had keyed him up to the highest pitch. Every nerve
was tingling, every muscle taut. His first throw he had taken without
strain, being mainly anxious, under Cameron's coaching, to get the
swing, but under the excitement incident to the contest he had put more
strength into the throw than appeared either to himself or to his coach.
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