What with boxing, football, and baseball, I had been in training
since childhood.
And so it was with the utmost confidence that I laid hold of the
huge iron rim; but though I threw every ounce of my strength into
it, my best effort was as unavailing as Perry's had been--the
thing would not budge--the grim, insensate, horrible thing that
was holding us upon the straight road to death!
At length I gave up the useless struggle, and without a word
returned to my seat. There was no need for words--at least none
that I could imagine, unless Perry desired to pray. And I was
quite sure that he would, for he never left an opportunity neglected
where he might sandwich in a prayer. He prayed when he arose in
the morning, he prayed before he ate, he prayed when he had finished
eating, and before he went to bed at night he prayed again. In
between he often found excuses to pray even when the provocation
seemed far-fetched to my worldly eyes--now that he was about to die
I felt positive that I should witness a perfect orgy of prayer--if
one may allude with such a simile to so solemn an act.
But to my astonishment I discovered that with death staring him in
the face Abner Perry was transformed into a new being. From his
lips there flowed--not prayer--but a clear and limpid stream of
undiluted profanity, and it was all directed at that quietly stubborn
piece of unyielding mechanism.
"I should think, Perry," I chided, "that a man of your professed
religiousness would rather be at his prayers than cursing in the
presence of imminent death.
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