'I will not do so,' answered Samuel. 'If you have not had enough, I have.'
'You shall go on. You are a coward to sneak out now when an accident gave you advantage.'
'Very well, then,' said Samuel; 'but you have lost your temper, and I'll have no more than this round with you.'
The young men were very equally matched. They grappled once more, twisted, doubled, gasped; the ground was torn up under their feet. As the feet twirled and flew, it was hard to say how many were on the ground at once, and whose they were.
Samuel suddenly caught his antagonist over the arms, and pushed them to his side.
'He'll have Larry down! he will, by George!' shouted several. 'Well done, Samuel! Go it, Samuel Voaden!'
'Ha!' shouted Sam, starting back. 'Who goes against rules? You kicked.'
'You lie! I did not,'
'You did! you did, Larry,' shouted three or four of the spectators. It was true; in his excitement Larry had forgotten that he and his opponent were without skillibegs and wrestling in Cornish fashion, and he had kicked; but in good faith he had denied doing it, for he was unconscious of his actions, so blinded and bemuzzed was he with anger, disappointment, and shame.
'I'll not wrestle any more,' said Samuel, 'if you don't wrestle fair. No—I won't at all. You are in a white fury. So—if it's unfair in you to kick, it is unfair in me to take advantage of your temper.'