“It’s mesilf that’ll thry yez a whirrul!” he cried.
“You?” said Whirling Bear, contemptuously. “You no wrastle! Go ’way!”
That, as he afterward confessed, made the Irish boy “hot.” He told Whirling Bear he could stand him on his head in a minute.
“All right,” said the Indian, with a wicked gleam in his black eyes. “You strip off and try. Come.”
Immediately Barney began to “peel.”
“Look out for him,” warned Frank, assisting the Irish lad to get out of his sweater. “He is treacherous, and he dislikes all whites. I can see that. He may try to injure you seriously.”
“Oi’ll kape me oie on th’ spalpane, Frankie. Av he gits th’ bist av me it’s a smart chap he is.”
In a short time the Irish lad was ready.
The challenge had been heard, and there was a rush of the spectators to witness the wrestling match.
A ring was formed, and the crowd was kept back by some of the spectators who appointed themselves for that purpose.