The ax throw was the first contest, so Cole took his time selecting the ax he was going to use. There were dozens of axes in the tent, and he tried several of them, holding each in his hand to test its weight and balance.
The tent wasn't crowded. There were only a handful of other firemen inside the big canvas structure. Most of the men had already donned the long leather overcoats, high-topped boots, and helmets that would be the day's uniform. Cole was still lingering over his selection of an ax when Patsy O'Flaherty stuck his head in the tent's entrance flap and said in a loud voice, "Sure and they're gettin' ready to start. Ye better get on out here, me boyos."
Cole nodded. He settled on the ax he wanted and carried it over to the entrance. The other firemen in the tent trailed along behind him. None of them looked back.
So none of them saw the slight twitch of the canvas as someone lifted it at the rear of the tent
Cole strode toward the area where the targets had been set up. The sun was shining down warmly, and he figured the heavy fireman's garb was going to get pretty hot before the day was over. He was accustomed to the heat, however, and knew it wouldn't bother him.
Several men from each company in the department had entered the ax-throwing contest, so there was a large crowd on hand for it. Likewise, the Oakland Fire Department was furnishing a large number of contestants. Friendly jeers— and some not-so-friendly ones—were tossed back and forth by the members of the rival departments as they lined up.
Ropes had been strung up along the edges of the contest area to keep the spectators from wandering into the path of a thrown ax. There was a large open space some twenty feet wide and forty feet long. The competitors stood at one end while wooden targets were set up at the other end. One man from each department stepped up to a line marked on the grass, then took his turn letting fly at his designated target.
Cole was about three-fourths of the way back in the San Francisco line. Like the other competitors, he stretched up on his toes and craned his neck to see how the rest of the contestants were doing. Each time an ax was thrown well, it bit into one of the targets with a solid thunk! and cheers and applause came from the watching crowd. Chief Sullivan and the chief from the Oakland department kept track of the scoring.
When Cole's turn came to step up to the line, his competitor from Oakland said, "Hello, Brady. Ready to get whipped?"
"We'll see," Cole said.
"Care to throw first?"
"No, that's all right, you go ahead."
The Oakland fireman grinned and hefted his ax. He was bigger and more muscular than Cole, and the ax looked a little like a toy in his massive hands. Without taking any unnecessary time about it, he lifted the ax and flung it forward. The head smacked cleanly into his target, the ax handle quivering from the impact. The ax had struck well within the circle painted on the target, not more than a hand's span from the edge of the bull's-eye.
The man grinned again as he looked at Cole. "Beat that," he challenged.
Cole didn't believe in boasting and chest-thumping. He toed the line, set himself, and drew back his arm. It flashed forward, sending the ax spinning through the air. It turned so rapidly it was just a blur.
Until it stopped abruptly, the edge of the blade biting so deeply into the wood that it sent a crack splintering up and down through the target from the point of impact. The wood was split so badly that the target broke in half and fell apart . . . but not before everyone there saw that the blade of the ax had hit squarely in the bull's-eye.
A stunned silence fell over the crowd for a few seconds, then it erupted in cheers and shouts and whistles and thunderous applause. Cole's throw was the best one of the day so far, and the points he received for hitting the bull's-eye would give the San Francisco Fire Department an early but solid lead.
Cole glanced at the Oakland fireman who had thrown just before him. The man was still staring at the broken target, amazement etched on his face. He looked at the faintly smiling Cole and just shook his head, as if to say that he gave up, he wasn't going to be able to best Cole's throw. It was doubtful, for that matter, that anyone in either department would.
The San Francisco men who followed Cole didn't fare as well, however, and the lead he had given the department was gradually eroded. Cole shook his head and wandered away to start preparing for the hook-and-ladder relay climb.