Above it all, there suddenly rang out from the throats of the _Manhattan's_ crew, one ear-splitting cry of triumph.
In the midst of it, carried on its wings as it were, Ned suddenly dashed ahead of his competitors and staggered across the tape into the arms of his shipmates. Chalmers was second and Merritt a bad third. Tobacco had found the weak spot in his heart. He was almost exhausted as he reeled across the line.
One by one the other contests were decided. The hammer throw was won by Melvin, of the _Idaho_, a giant of a man. Smithers, of the _Manhattan_, was second in this event. So the Dreadnought's crew continued to keep up their spirits. The half-mile was captured by Remington, of the _Louisiana_, while the mile went to Hickey, of the _Manhattan_, a man with hair of right good fighting red, and a great chest development.
Then came the pole jump. As usual, this picturesque event excited great interest.
Chance came first, and set a mark that made the other contestants gasp.
"You'll have to be a grasshopper to beat that, Herc," whispered Ned.
Herc nodded. "I'll do my best," he said simply.
"That's the stuff, shipmate," said "Ben Franklin," who happened to be close at hand, "as poor Richard said:
"'You'll beat the rest; If you do your best.'"
"I never saw that in 'Poor Richard' that I can recollect," said Ned, with a laugh.
Steve Wynn looked pained, as he usually did when any of his quotations was questioned as to its accuracy.
"It's in the book some place," he said confidently.
"Well, maybe it is," agreed Ned. "It's good advice, anyhow."
Merritt had now been joined by Chance. With set teeth, they stood watching the agile lad from the farm prepare for his preliminary run.
"You want to watch closely now," said Chance, with an unholy grin, "you're going to see something."
But a horrified cry from the spectators interrupted the words. Herc had risen gracefully at the bar, and had seemed about to sail over it. Instantly bedlam had seethed about the field.
But in a flash the cries of enthusiasm had been changed to that peculiar sighing gasp that runs through a crowd at a sudden turn to the tragic in their emotions.
As Herc had lifted his body outward to sail over the bar, the pole had suddenly snapped beneath him.