He felt my body carefully, but giving away no chance thereby. He seemed to gloat over the opportunity of testing his own muscles.
"A man's chest!" he grunted. "By heaven, I love you, Trevanion!"
Then I saw that he was trying for the "loin throw," and prepared myself for his advances. Thus it was when he thought to accomplish his purpose I was ready for him, and for a moment held him at advantage.
"Ah!" he cried, "better and better!"
But I knew that every power I possessed would have to be used, for by this time the fierce longing for mastery had come over him. Never did I feel so glad as at that moment that I had been true to the traditions of my race and county. For the Trevanions, although the sport had during the last few years been kept alive by the common people, had always been noted as wrestlers, and that in the county which, man to man, could challenge Europe.
While I had the advantage, therefore, I gripped him for a hug. Had he been a weaker man his ribs would have cracked like matches, indeed, had he been able to hold me so, I doubt whether the struggle would have continued a minute longer. But he had caught a deep breath, and I might as well have sought to crush a tree as Benet Killigrew. So I gave up the hug and he laughed like a boy.
"A good try!" he grunted, and then he tested me sorely. My sinews seemed likely to crack, so great was the strain that he put upon them, while the sweat came out over my forehead, and rolled down my face. However I held my ground, and when at length he failed in the cross hitch, I began to have more confidence. Especially did I hope for victory as I heard him mutter savagely, "By Cormoran, he's my match!"
So then I determined to be careful. I hoped that he had lessened his power of endurance by the wine-drinking, wild life he had lived. I therefore acted on the defensive until I should be able to try the throw I had often practised. Presently I thought his grip less mighty, but I was not sure, for never in my life had I been held by such a man. Had he been less confident of victory, he would perchance have been a better wrestler, but he did not seem to think that even his muscles must presently give way. So it came about that while he tried a dozen tricks, and put forth much strength in so doing, I used what power I had more warily. At length I thought I saw my chance, and so I prepared for what wrestlers call "the flying mare." In getting the grip necessary for this throw, I had to face the danger of placing myself in his power. However, I ventured to do this, for by no other way could I throw him. He saw my move immediately, and took advantage of it, and for a minute I was afraid that all was over with me. Never in my life had I struggled so hard. I saw balls of fire flash before my eyes, while my sinews seemed likely to snap at any moment. His grip grew weaker, however, in spite of his frantic struggles. I heard him panting like a mad dog, for I believe he then realised for the first time that I should master him. Then with all the strength of shoulders, back, and loins I used the trick I had intended, and Benet Killigrew, giant though he was, went flying across the room, his head striking the floor with a terrible thud.
For a moment I was afraid I had killed him, but only for a moment; I had seen such throws before, and knew the result. He would lie stunned for a few minutes, and then when he came to consciousness he would be dazed for the next half-hour. This was what I hoped for, and for which I had been struggling.
After wiping the sweat from my brow, I seized Benet's jacket and put it on. As luck would have it, the garment fitted me well. Then I took my money from my pockets. Otho had left me this, for which, as you may be sure, I felt thankful.