
It was plain that retreat was hopelessly cut off
If I may call you friend, I wish you this—
No gentle destiny throughout the years;
No soft content, or ease, or unearned bliss
Bereft of heart-ache where no sorrow nears,
But rather rugged trouble for a mate
To mold your soul against the coming blight,
To train you for the ruthless whip of fate
And build your heart up for the bitter fight.
If I may call you friend, I wish you more—
A rare philosophy no man may fake,
To put the game itself beyond the score
And take the tide of life as it may break;
To know the struggle that a man should know
Before he comes through with the winning hit,
And, though you slip before the charging foe,
To love the game too well to ever quit.
GRANTLAND RICE.
| CHAPTER | |
| I | The Boat That Came Down from the Sea |
| II | The Mystery and Bobby |
| III | Skipper Ed and His Partner |
| IV | Over a Cliff |
| V | The Rescue |
| VI | With Passing Years |
| VII | The Wolf Pack |
| VIII | The Battle |
| IX | The Fishing Places |
| X | A Foolhardy Shot |
| XI | When the Iceberg Turned |
| XII | Adrift on the Open Sea |
| XIII | How the Good and Sure Brought Trouble |
| XIV | Visions in Delirium |
| XV | Marooned in an Arctic Blizzard | <