It is Ho! for a sling, and a stone to fling, 



And a heart that no fear can chill; 

 And a foot that is sure, and a will to endure, 



And a hunger as big as a hill; 

 And a cloudless eye, and a wakeful ear, 

 For the feast that stalks in the thicket near. 



And Hey! for a meal that fills head and heel, 



And the spaces that lie between, 

 \Vhere, when going away, there is no one to pay, 



And _no slate that is left unclean, 

 And the way is as wide as the day is long, 

 And as shcrt and sweet as a morning song. 



It is Ho! for the srife that is half of life, 



And Hey! for the half that is peace, 

 'Mid the wealth of the hills, and the woods and the rills, 



And the earth for a bed of ease, 

 Where the heat and the cold may attack a man, 

 And the red blood glows through the freckles and tan. 



So it's Ho! for a sling, and a stone to fling, 



And a spear with the speed of light; 

 And an appetite, keen as a mowing machine, 



And a man for a man-size fight; 

 For that was the way, in most lands and climes, 

 That they reared their gods in the good old times. 



From Sports Afield. 



31 



