Holding the arm in the same position, I settled myself. The pain to the poor chap must have been something fearful, for every muscle and tendon was stretched to the cracking point. His breath came and went in sharp hisses; but he gave no other sign. My heat cooled, though, as I look back on it, far too slowly. Suddenly I arose and flung him from me. He rolled over on his back, and lay, his eyes half closed, breathing deeply. We must have been a sweet sight, we two young barbarians–myself marked and swollen and bloody, he with one eye puffed, and pale as death. My roommates, absolutely fascinated, did not stir.
The tableau lasted only the fraction of a minute, after all. Then abruptly Talbot Ward sat up. He grinned up at me with his characteristic momentary flash of teeth.
“I told you you couldn’t lick me,” said he.
I stared at him in astonishment.
“Licked? Why, I had you cold!”
“You had not.”
“I’d have broken your arm, if I had gone any farther.”
“Well, why didn’t you?”
I stared into his eyes blankly.
“Would you have done it?” I asked, in a sudden flash of illumination.