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He came to the house wet from head to foot and called to my father, “Watt, you will have to do something with that boy of yours or I am going to have him arrested.”

 

I had already related to my father what had happened that afternoon, and he walked out to the man and said, “And just what am I going to do with you? You have meddled with that boy now until you have caused him to be discharged. Now, get out of here before someone carries you out.” These flare-ups from my father always amused me for he was so small. Even in the prime of his life he never weighed more than 132 pounds.  From him I inherited my tendency to bet on the tossing of a pebble when in a pinch.

Mooney explained his father’s reputation for throwing skill:

He could throw a stone with uncanny speed and accuracy. Someone circulated a story concerning his pebble tossing. They said they met him coming out of the woods with three gray squirrels in his hand; yet, he carried no gun. They inquired, “Watt, where is your gun?”

 

“Didn’t have any gun; killed them with rocks,” he replied. “See that big one there (holding up the squirrel to view)? Had to throw at him twice.” He was easy going, quiet and under ordinary circumstances had little to say. Relative to the rock I threw at the man, he said, “Better be careful who you throw rocks at. It will get you into trouble.”  –Fred Mooney

 After the rock throwing incident, Mooney went to work in the mines.

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