Jack was glad to do so. Leaning his gun against the nearest tree, Arowaka doing the same with his bow, he stepped towards him, smiling and saying--
"Arowaka will soon see, for he is strong."
The Indian lad was as much pleased as he, for he was sure of learning more than he had ever known about the art of wrestling--enough to enable him to beat any of his friends who dared engage in a contest with him.
Jack was shrewd. When he locked arms with Arowaka he could have flung him at once to the earth, but he took good care not to do so. He made several feints, but checked himself before the lad went down. Then he showed him how to make those feints, how to trip his opponent, and, indeed, he did his utmost to teach him everything that he had learned from his own father.
Arowaka was an apt pupil. He was lithe, sinewy, and eager to learn, and with such conditions a boy is sure to pick up the art with great quickness. After this had continued some time, Jack said--
"Now look out! See whether you can keep me from throwing you just as I did this morning the first time I tried."
The two locked their arms more rigidly than before, and the struggle looked like a fierce one. Hua-awa-oma watched it with the closest interest. Back and forth twisted the boys, like a couple of enemies locked in deadly embrace, and struggling for their lives.
All at once the heels of Jack went up in the air and he fell flat on his back, with Arowaka, across him. The chief was so delighted that he broke into laughter. Was there ever an apter pupil than his own son?
Now I must tell you the truth. Jack Gedney was guilty of a gross deception. All that furious twisting and swinging back and forth was pretence on his part. He could have thrown Arowaka with a little more effort than he put forth in the morning, but he deliberately allowed him to throw him, and he did it, too, in such a manner that neither the youth nor his parent suspected it was not a fair victory.
Jack climbed to his feet, and with a sheepish look brushed the leaves from his clothing.