McTeague by Frank Norris (leveled readers TXT) 📕

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. They even found a huge round stone on the beach and “put the shot” for a while. As long as it was a question of agility, Marcus was easily the best of the four; but the dentist’s enormous strength, his crude, untutored brute force, was a matter of wonder for the entire party. McTeague cracked English walnuts⁠—taken from the lunch baskets⁠—in the hollow of his arm, and tossed the round stone a full five feet beyond their best mark. Heise believed himself to be particularly strong in the wrists, but the dentist, using but one hand, twisted a cane out of Heise’s two with a wrench that all but sprained the harnessmaker’s arm. Then the dentist raised weights and chinned himself on the rings till they thought he would never tire.

His great success quite turned his head; he strutted back and forth in front of the women, his chest thrown out, and his great mouth perpetually expanded in a triumphant grin. As he felt his strength more and more, he began to abuse it; he domineered over the others, gripping suddenly at their arms till they squirmed with pain, and slapping Marcus on the back so that he gasped and gagged for breath. The childish vanity of the great fellow was as undisguised as that of a schoolboy. He began to tell of wonderful feats of strength he had accomplished when he was a young man. Why, at one time he had knocked down a half-grown heifer with a blow of his fist between the eyes, sure, and the heifer had just stiffened out and trembled all over and died without getting up.

McTeague told this story again, and yet again. All through the afternoon he could be overheard relating the wonder to anyone who would listen, exaggerating the effect of his blow, inventing terrific details. Why, the heifer had just frothed at the mouth, and his eyes had rolled up⁠—ah, sure, his eyes rolled up just like that⁠—and the butcher had said his skull was all mashed in⁠—just all mashed in, sure, that’s the word⁠—just as if from a sledgehammer.

Notwithstanding his reconciliation with the dentist on the boat, Marcus’s gorge rose within him at McTeague’s boasting swagger. When McTeague had slapped him on the back, Marcus had retired to some little distance while he recovered his breath, and glared at the dentist fiercely as he strode up and down, glorying in the admiring glances of the women.

“Ah, one-horse dentist,” he muttered between his teeth. “Ah, zinc-plugger, cow-killer, I’d like to show you once, you overgrown mucker, you⁠—you⁠—cow-killer!”

When he rejoined the group, he found them preparing for a wrestling bout.

“I tell you what,” said Heise, “we’ll have a tournament. Marcus and I will rastle, and Doc and Ryer, and then the winners will rastle each other.”

The women clapped their hands excitedly. This would be exciting. Trina cried:

“Better let me hold your money, Mac, and your keys, so as you won’t lose them out of your pockets.” The men gave their valuables into the keeping of their wives and promptly set to work.

The dentist thrust Ryer down without even changing his grip; Marcus and the harness-maker struggled together for a few moments till Heise all at once slipped on a bit of turf and fell backwards. As they toppled over together, Marcus writhed himself from under his opponent, and, as they reached the ground, forced down first one shoulder and then the other.

“All right, all right,” panted the harness-maker, goodnaturedly, “I’m down. It’s up to you and Doc now,” he added, as he got to his feet.

The match between McTeague and Marcus promised to be interesting. The dentist, of course, had an enormous advantage in point of strength, but Marcus prided himself on his wrestling, and knew something about strangleholds and half-Nelsons. The men drew back to allow them a free space as they faced each other, while Trina and the other women rose to their feet in their excitement.

“I bet Mac will throw him, all the same,” said Trina.

“All ready!” cried Ryer.

The dentist and Marcus stepped forward, eyeing each other cautiously. They circled around the impromptu ring. Marcus watching eagerly for an opening. He ground his teeth, telling himself he would throw McTeague if it killed him. Ah, he’d show him now. Suddenly the two men caught at each other; Marcus went to his knees. The dentist threw his vast bulk on his adversary’s shoulders and, thrusting a huge palm against his face, pushed him backwards and downwards. It was out of the question to resist that enormous strength. Marcus wrenched himself over and fell face downward on the ground.

McTeague rose on the instant with a great laugh of exultation.

“You’re down!” he exclaimed.

Marcus leaped to his feet.

“Down nothing,” he vociferated, with clenched fists. “Down nothing, by damn! You got to throw me so’s my shoulders touch.”

McTeague was stalking about, swelling with pride.

“Hoh, you’re down. I threw you. Didn’t I throw him, Trina? Hoh, you can’t rastle me.”

Marcus capered with rage.

“You didn’t! you didn’t! you didn’t! and you can’t! You got to give me another try.”

The other men came crowding up. Everybody was talking at once.

“He’s right.”

“You didn’t throw him.”

“Both his shoulders at the same time.”

Trina clapped and waved her hand at McTeague from where she stood on the little slope of lawn above the wrestlers. Marcus broke through the group, shaking all over with excitement and rage.

“I tell you that ain’t the way to rastle. You’ve got to throw a man so’s his shoulders touch. You got to give me another bout.”

“That’s straight,” put in Heise, “both his shoulders down at the same time. Try it again. You and Schouler have another try.”

McTeague was bewildered by so much