Jackson came up with a scowling face.  He did his best, but this time fell behind Powell by four inches.

“You ought to have stuck to the other hammer, Jackson,” laughed the youth who composed songs.

“Don’t you throw that up to me!” whispered Jackson fiercely.  “If you do I’ll hammer you for it.”

“Is that meant for a pun, Jackson?”

“No, it ain’t.  I won’t stand being slurred.  I’ll pound you good.”

“With the hammer?”

“No, with my fists.”

“Really?  Well, you’ll have to spell able first.”  Tom came next, as before, and now the hammer flew out four feet and nine inches beyond his first mark.

“That shows what the other hammer can do,” said Major Larry.

Larson was as much out of sorts as Jackson, but nevertheless he resolved to do his best to win the contest.  Up went the hammer with a mighty swing and circled through the air.  But the throw was behind that of Tom by fourteen inches.

“Hurrah!  Tom Rover wins!” was the cry, and many rushed forward to congratulate him, while Larson and Jackson retired as quickly as they could and in great disgust.

The next contest was a dash of two hundred yards and was won by a boy named Bird.

“He’s a bird!” sang out Tom loudly, and at this the crowd laughed heartily.

Then came a race of a quarter of a mile for the little cadets and this was won by Harry Moss, with Joe Davis a close second.  Lew Flapp had backed up Ben Hurdy, but cigarettes had done their work on Hurdy and his wind gave out long before the race came to a finish.

“Good for you, Harry,” said Dick, slapping the little cadet on the back.  “That was a fine run you made.  And your run was almost as good, Joe,” he added, to Davis.

“I don’t care if I did lose,” panted Davis.  “Both of us beat Ben Hurdy hollow, and that’s all I wanted to do.”

“Oh, there’s no moss growing on Moss,” cried Tom, and this brought out another laugh.

The next contest to come off was the high jump, for which Dick had entered, along with Pender, Rockley, and four others, including Hans Mueller.  What had possessed the German boy to enter was beyond finding out, for he could scarcely jump at all.  Yet many, for the fun of it, told him they thought he would surely win.

“Oh, you’ll outjump everybody,” said Sam.  “None of ’em will come anywhere near you.”

“Dot’s it!  Dot’s it!” cried Hans excitedly.  “I vos chump so high like nefer vos, ain’t it?”

A lad named Lemon was the first to go over the bar, at a height of four feet and two inches.  Another cadet followed, going him two inches better.

“Now, Hans, see what you can do,” said Major Larry.

“Vos it mine turn to chump?”

“Yes.  Are you ready?”

“Sure I vos.”

“How high up shall they place the stick?”

“Apout like dot,” and Hans pointed to the top of his head.