somewhere in the thicket I heard a wood thrush singing.

"Did you ever see John L. Sullivan?" I asked.

He glanced up at me quickly, but with new interest.

"No, did you?"

"Or Bob Fitzsimmons?"

"Nope--but I was mighty near it once. I've seen 'em both in the movies."

"Well, sir," said I, "that's interesting. I should like to see them
myself. Do you know what made me speak of them?"

He had spread down a newspaper and was taking the luncheon out of his
"bucket," as he called it, including a large bottle of coffee; but he
paused and looked at me with keen interest.

"Well," said I, "when I saw you dragging that wire yesterday I took you
to be a pretty husky citizen yourself."

He grinned and took a big mouthful from one of his sandwiches. I could
see that my shot had gone home.

"So when I got back last night," I said, "I looked up the arm
measurements of Sullivan and Fitzsimmons in a book I have and got to
wondering how they compared with mine and yours. They were considerably
larger than mine--"