generalship,
reserving the hammer-throwing as the most thrilling event to the last
place. For, more than anything in the world, men, and especially women,
love strong men and love to see them in conflict. For that fatal love
cruel wars have been waged, lands have been desolated, kingdoms have
fallen. There was the promise of a very pretty fight indeed between the
three entered for the hammer-throwing contest, two of them experienced
in this warfare and bearing high honours, the third new to the game and
unskilled, but loved for his modest courage and for the simple, gentle
heart he carried in his great body. He could not win, of course, for
McGee, the champion of the city police force, had many scalps at his
girdle, and Duncan Ross, "Black Duncan," the pride of the Zorras, the
unconquered hero of something less than a hundred fights--who could hope
to win from him? But all the more for this the people loved big Mack and
wished him well. So down the sloping sides of the encircling hills the
crowds pressed thick, and on the platform the great men leaned over
the rail, while they lifted their ladies to places of vantage upon the
chairs beside them.

"Oh, I cannot see a bit!" cried Isa MacKenzie, vainly pressing upon the
crowding men who, stolidly unaware of all but what was doing in front of
them, effectually shut off her view.

"And you want to see?" said the M.P.P., looking down at her.

"Oh, so much!" she cried.

"Come up here, then!" and, giving her a hand, he lifted her, smiling and
blushing, to a place on the platform whence she with absorbing interest
followed the movements of big Mack, and incidentally of the others in as
far as they might bear any relation to those of her hero.

And now they were drawing for place.

"Aha! Mack is going to throw first!" said the Reverend Alexander Munro.
"That is a pity."

"It's a shame!" cried Isa, with flashing eyes. "Why don't they put one
of those older--ah--?"

"Stagers?" suggested the M.P.P.

"Duffers," concluded Isa.

"The lot determines the place, Miss Isa," said Mr. Freeman, with a smile
at her. "But the best man will win."

"Oh, I am not so sure of that!" cried the girl in a distressed voice.
"Mack might get nervous."

"Nervous?" laughed the M.P.P. "That giant?"

"Yes, indeed, I have seen him that nervous--" said Isa, and stopped
abruptly.

"Ah! That is quite possible," replied the M.P.P. with a quizzical smile.

"And there is young Cameron yonder. He