THE situation had taken on a most singular phase. The Shelton brothers were waiting on the crest of the ridge for the return of their Blackfoot friend, when in a brief time they were called upon to enter into a brief struggle with two Shoshone or Snake Indians for the possession of their own property.

Withal, the paleface youths were eager for the contest. This was especially true of Victor, who, as he expressed it, was aching for a set-to with the broad, strongly built youth, toward whom he had taken an intense dislike from the first.

The arrangements were made by the chief Black Elk and Mul-tal-la, the two warriors standing as immobile as if hundreds of miles removed from the spot, though it is not to be supposed they were not interested. Their leader and the Blackfoot talked again for two or three minutes, while George and Victor stood side by side, awaiting the test. The rifle of one was still held by a Shoshone, while Victor clung to his own weapon.

“I don’t give it up till I have to,” grimly remarked the lad. “One of them has yours, and Mul-tal-la shall take charge of mine; he’ll act fair, but I don’t believe any of the others will. George, if you don’t throw that copper-colored scamp you’re no brother of mine, and you’ll have to settle with me.”

“I’ll do my best—I promise you that. Don’t forget that you have a tough job before you.”

Mul-tal-la addressed the brothers:

“My brother George will wrestle with Antelope first; then my brother Victor will see whether Young Elk is stronger than he.”

“How many falls are we to have?” asked George.

“Only one. If he lays you on your back you must give up your gun to the Antelope. You will not have another chance, but will have to go without a rifle till you can get one somewhere else.”

“In all the wrestling matches I ever saw it was the best two out of three falls. The fellow may play some trick on me.”

“You mustn’t let him,” said Victor, impatiently; “you know as many tricks as he. Remember I’ve got my eye on you, and if he beats you, you’ll have to take a turn with me.”

“Save your strength for yourself,” replied George. “Well, I’m ready,” he added, addressing his dusky friend.

The spectators formed a sort of ring, and the youths advanced to the middle, each warily watching the other and on the alert for the first advantage.

The wrestling bouts of the early days were not conducted as in these times. The rule was for the contestants to take their places with their sides touching, and each with his arm around the waist or neck of the other. The same style still prevails in many places remote from towns. When thus interlocked the contestants began the struggle, twisting, bending, straining and tugging with might and main and with all the skill the two could bring to their aid. The spectacle of wrestlers standing face to face and using their toes to feint and tap each other, most of the motions being simultaneous, like two fighting chickens, while watching a chance to catch the other unawares, was formerly unknown in this country.

It will be noted that in the old style, provided both were right or left-handed, one of the wrestlers had a manifest advantage, since his stronger side was turned toward the weaker side of the other. Among boys this advantage was often decided by lot, or by the first shout of his claim by one of the contestants. The handicap served also to even matters when there was a marked superiority of strength or skill on the part of one youth.

George Shelton was right-handed, like most boys, and he determined not to yield that point to the other. It speedily developed, however, that the Antelope was left-handed, for he voluntarily placed his left arm over the shoulders of George—something he would not have done had his right side been the stronger.

Instead of placing his arm under that of his foe, George Shelton slipped it on top, though not much was gained thereby. He made up his mind that if there was to be any strangling done he would do his share. Thus they stood, with every nerve braced and every sense alert, waiting for the first test.

The grip of the Antelope, who, it will be remembered, was taller than George, suddenly tightened and he bore our young friend backward. But the latter kept his feet and braced for the struggle to fling the other forward on his face, which was made the next instant. Then the seesawing went on for several seconds and with the same alternating abruptness as before, when the young Indian put forth his utmost power to lift the other off his feet. Had he succeeded, he would have had no trouble in flinging him forward on his back or face, for a person can do little when kicking in the air with his feet clear of the earth.

George defeated his enemy by also lifting. With both straining in the same manner neither could succeed, and the weight of both remained on the ground. Then the Antelope ceased his effort, with the intention of trying some “lock” of which the white boy knew nothing.

The Anglo-Saxon Every Time.

But this was the opportunity for which George Shelton was waiting. In the instant of the cessation by his antagonist, the watchful lad suddenly put forth every ounce of strength and lifted the young Indian clear. He strove desperately to regain his footing, but his shabby moccasins vainly trod the air, and before he could recover his grip George hurled him violently forward on his side. He struck the ground with a shock that made it tremble. George lay across his body, from which the breath was driven.

Never was fairer fall seen. The young Shoshone was defeated so decisively that, had there been an official umpire or referee, no appeal could have been made to him.

“Good! Good!” exclaimed the delighted Victor, dancing with delight and clapping his hands. “I’ll own you for my brother, George. I couldn’t have done better.”

Mul-tal-la grinned, for he could not conceal his pleasure. The spectators, including Young Elk, looked savage, and the brow of Black Elk was like a thundercloud. No one spoke, but all must have thought volumes.

Having thrown his rival, George Shelton lay across him for a few moments, then leaped up, sprang back several paces, and turning to Mul-tal-la, said:

“Tell him, if he wants it, I’ll give him another chance.”

“No; my brother has won his gun.”

At the sa............