"Don't rile us," warned Ike.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Ike," spoke Harry. "We'll be fair. I'll wrestle you for that $100. If you throw me, you can have it, and if I throw you we can keep it. You've already got more than that out of this ground—but we want to be fair."
"Don't you do it, Harry!" protested Father Richards. "There's no need of such foolishness."
"That's what I say," added Mr. Stanton. "We won't allow it."
"I know what I'm about," replied Harry, with a wink at Terry and George and the breathless Archie.
"Young feller," solemnly said Ike, "I ekcept, ketch as ketch can, but keep back your dog. I air a tough proposition in a wrestle, but I don't aim to come to grips with man and dog at the same time."
Harry alertly threw aside his hat and stepped forward; Ike did the like.
"David an' Goliath!" cheered the crowd; and indeed the match did resemble that, with Harry so slight and slim and the shaggy Ike appearing to be a foot taller and a foot broader.
"Has he any show? Do you think he can throw him?" whispered Archie—referring, of course, to Harry.
"Sure he can," asserted Terry. "Can't he, George?"