Bets were freely laid; rough, but good natured chaff flew from mouth to
mouth; and now and then a hearty yell echoed over the field, but the two
men in the contest were silent; they scarcely exchanged a word.
In the afternoon the stranger slowly but surely forged ahead. John
rallied every ounce of his strength but his giant opponent gained
steadily. When the last load came in the farmer threw down his fork
before the whole crowd and held out his hand to Dan.
"I'll give it up," he said heartily. "You're a better man than I am,
stranger, wherever you come from." Dan took the offered hand while the
men cheered lustily.
But the light of battle still shone in the minister's eyes.
"Perhaps," he said, "pitching is not your game. I'll match you now,
tonight, for anything you want--wrestling, running, jumping, or I'll go
you at any time for any work you can name."
John slowly looked him over and shook his head, "I know when I've got
enough," he said laughing. "Perhaps some of the boys here--" He turned
to the group.
The men grinned as they measured the stranger with admiring glances and
one drawled, "We don't know where you come from, pardner, but we sure
know what you can do. Ain't nobody in this outfit hankerin' to tackle
the man that can work John Gardner down."
At the barn the farmer drew the minister to one side.
"Look here, Brother Matthews," he began.
But the other interrupted sharply. "My name is Dan, Mr.
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