, nor anything else. I'm not going to let
you spoil those muscles."

"I don't think I've ever pushed the Chisel," said Peter. "Besides, it's
over, isn't it?"

"Over? Of course it's over, and that confounded American won. 'Poor old
England,' as all the papers said."

"Then it's too late to begin to practise," said Peter thankfully.

"Well, it's too late for the 1920 games. But we can do a lot in eight
years, and I think I can get you fit for the 1924 games at Pekin."

Peter stared at him in amazement.

"My good man," he said at last, "in 1924 I shall be in London; and I
hope in the House of Commons."

"And what about the honour of your country? Do you want to read the
jeers in the American papers when we lose 'Pushing the Chisel' in 1924?"

"I don't care a curse what the American papers say," said Peter angrily.

"Then you're very different from other Englishmen," said the trainer
sternly.

. . . . .

Of course, Peter was persuaded; he couldn't let England be the
laughing-stock of the world. So for eight years he lived under the eye
of the trainer, rising at five and retiring to bed at seven-thirty. This
prevented him from taking much part in the ordinary social activities of
the evening; and even his luncheon and garden-party invitations had to
be declined in some such words as "Mr. Peter Riley regrets that he is
unable to accept Lady Vavasour's kind invitation for Monday the 13th, as
he will be hopping round the garden on one leg then." His career, too,
had to be abandoned; for it was plain that, even if he had the leisure
to get into Parliament, the early hours he kept would not allow him to
take part in any important divisions.

But there were compensations. As he watched his calves swell; as he
looked in the glass and noticed each morning that his head was a little
more on one side--sure sign of the expert Chisel-pusher; as, still surer
sign, his hands became more knuckly and his mouth remained more
permanently open, he knew that his devotion to duty would not be without
its reward. He saw already his country triumphing, and heard the chorus
of congratulation in the newspapers that England was still a nation of
sportsmen....

In 1924 Pekin was crowded. There were, of course, the ordinary million
inhabitants; and, in addition, people had thronged from all parts to
see the great Chisel-pusher of whom so much had been heard. That they
did not come in vain, we in London kne