By this time all his being was
pleasantly warmed by the alcohol, and he was in the most genial
and best of spirits. At the corner of the bar several young men
were up to the old trick of resting their elbows and attempting
to force each other's hands down. One broad-shouldered young
giant never removed his elbow, but put down every hand that came
against him. Daylight was interested.
"It's Slosson," the barkeeper told him, in answer to his query.
"He's the heavy-hammer thrower at the U.C. Broke all records
this year, and the world's record on top of it. He's a husky all
right all right."
Daylight nodded and went over to him, placing his own arm in
opposition.
"I'd like to go you a flutter, son, on that proposition," he
said.
The young man laughed and locked hands with him; and to
Daylight's astonishment it was his own hand that was forced down
on the bar.
"Hold on," he muttered. "Just one more flutter. I reckon I
wasn't just ready that time."
Again the hands locked. It happened quickly. The offensive
attack of Daylight's muscles slipped instantly into defense, and,
resisting vainly, his hand was forced over and down. Daylight
was dazed.
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