had no great strength or skill as an oarsman, but he was most painstaking; and when he was not himself actively pulling weights or rowing, he was standing by, watching and criticizing and trying to teach the others—even the most unpromising. But when Sheldon had had enough of the weights and the rowing-machines, he would pick out some one—usually Edward—and say, “You run the rest of the squad to-day.”
Then he would go upstairs, where were the flying rings and horizontal bars and all the rest of the gymnasium apparatus; and there he would disport himself, wrestling with some other big fellow on a mattress, or sailing up and down the room on the rings, or shinning up the rope to the ceiling, or “skinning the cat” on the horizontal bar.
He was the hero in the gymnasium of all the little kids, and as he moved about performing his various stunts he was always attended by a group of small persons whose bare arms and legs showed goose-flesh, but who preferred to shiver and look on at such
