“Just look at those muscles will you,” Jack whispered to Bob.
It was little wonder that the display excited the boy’s admiration. The huge muscles stood out like immense cords as the two men strained with all their might to upset each other. Pulling and pushing they whirled about on the smooth snow, neither seeming to be able to gain the advantage. Once Jean slipped, and the boys thought that he was going down, but he quickly recovered his footing and, in a second, seemed on even terms again. Both men were breathing hard and it seemed as though one or the other must yield soon, but as to which one it would be there was no indication.
Then suddenly the end came. The boys saw Jean’s powerful arms creep upward, then quickly he bent his back, and Pierre, taken by surprise, flew over his head, landing on his back nearly ten feet away. For a moment he lay there striving to regain his breath, which had been driven from his body. Then eager hands pulled him to his feet and he ran for Jean, who was already pulling on his shirt.
“Dat one ver’ bon hold,” he said as he grasped the victor by the hand.
“Oui, she one ver’ fine hold,” Jean agreed, accepting the outstretched hand with a broad grin. “I thot you had me one time,” he added as he drew on his mackinaw.
“Oui, I ver’ near geet you,” Pierre grinned as he began to dress.
“It’s fine that those men can go through a match like that and still be good friends,” Bob declared as he and Jack hurried away to the wharf.
Even they, accustomed as they were to the rapidity with which the ice breaks up when it once starts, were surprised at the change which one short hour had wrought. What had been a broad expanse of frozen surface now was a heaving mass of huge cakes of ice, interspersed with stretches of open water.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Jack asked as he gazed at the sight.
“Nothing finer,” Bob agreed. “But come on, let’s get the rods and try for trout in some of those open stretches.”