He then offered to trade for sixty. I still offered fifty.
"Make it five dollars more, and it's a trade," said he.
"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll wrestle you, run a foot-race, or spit at a mark, to see whether I shall pay five dollars extra or not."
He "sized me up" for a moment, and said he guessed he'd wrestle with me; and asked me to name my hold. I proposed "rough-and-tumble."
We then laid off our coats and took hold, and in much less time than it takes to tell it my heels and hat were flying in the air, and a second later I found myself sprawling in the middle of the road on my back.
After rising to his feet he was about to put his coat on, when I asked if he was going to give up.
"Give up? Great Cæsar! didn't I throw you fair and square?"
"Yes, you did that time; but the best three in five is what wins where I came from."
"All right, sir. Three in five goes, then."
By this time we had gotten rested, and took hold again. I felt in my bones that my five dollars was a goner, but determined to do my best, and managed to make it pretty lively for him. Finally, however, he landed me again squarely on my back.