"Come on,
boys, now let's drink." Their elbows crooked and they drank silently.
Their picnic that day was very jolly. Nothing had changed at Schuetzen
Park since the day of that other memorable Sieppe picnic four years
previous. After lunch the men took themselves off to the rifle range,
while Selina, Trina, and the other two women put away the dishes.
An hour later the men joined them in great spirits. Ryer had won the
impromptu match which they had arranged, making quite a wonderful score,
which included three clean bulls' eyes, while McTeague had not been able
even to hit the target itself.
Their shooting match had awakened a spirit of rivalry in the men, and
the rest of the afternoon was passed in athletic exercises between them.
The women sat on the slope of the grass, their hats and gloves laid
aside, watching the men as they strove together. Aroused by the little
feminine cries of wonder and the clapping of their ungloved palms, these
latter began to show off at once. They took off their coats and vests,
even their neckties and collars, and worked themselves into a lather of
perspiration for the sake of making an impression on their wives. They
ran hundred-yard sprints on the cinder path and executed clumsy feats on
the rings and on the parallel bars.
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