Terence Clark gathered himself for another rush and blow at the Shawanoe, when the latter with a quickness which the eye of Fred Linden could hardly follow, ducked under the arm of the Irish lad and again struck him a blow with the flat of the hand, first on one side of the face and then on the other. Terry wheeled and returned the blows with skill. Once his hand grazed the black hair that was about Deerfoot's head, and several times he touched the nodding feathers, but strive as much as he might, he could not reach the fellow himself.  
Now that the combat may be said to have opened, it went through to the end without halt or break. Here, there, everywhere and struck the Shawanoe, while Terry was always just too late to catch him. Deerfoot might have considerable injury upon his , had he struck him with his closed hand, but he always used his open palm. Some of the blows like pistol shots. Having delivered all that he wished, Deerfoot doubled up his left hand so that only the index finger was extended. With this he punched the right and left of Terry, then his chest, and then actually each side of his nose, easily the blows which the half angered Irish lad aimed at him in return.
 
Suddenly Terry turned his back on his and struck several times at . Then he dropped his hands and walked back by the fire, saying, with a shake of his head:
 
"I've enough! ye could the divil and his uncle."
 
Fred Linden was sitting on the ground shaking with laughter. He had not seen any thing for a long time that pleased him so much. He had observed Terry in more than one fight with the boys at home and he knew he was an ugly customer, as full of as a bull dog, but the Shawanoe struck him a dozen times, while the Irish lad with all his skill put never once touched him. The of the brave Irish lad was complete.
 
No witness of the , however, could have failed to admire the skill and pluck of Terry. He himself well and kept up the struggle, even after he was convinced that he could do nothing with his alert antagonist. Then, when Deerfoot began to trifle with him, he turned around as I have shown and struck the empty air.
 
"Why did you do that?" asked Fred, as the three stood by the fire discussing the incident.
 
Terry passed his open hand over his cheeks, which were red and smarting from the sharp taps of Deerfoot, and closing one eye and scratching his head, made answer:
 
"I had been sthrikin' at Deerfut until I obsarved that ivery time I sthruck at him I didn't hit him; so thinks I to mesilf, I will see whither I can hit him by tryin' not to hit him; so I sthruck where I knowed he wasn't, thinkin' he was there."
 
"Well, I must declare Deerfoot the winner."
 
"I can't deny that he is; I throw up the sponge and extind to him the best wishes for himself and family."
 
Smiling in a way that left no doubt of his of the incident, Deerfoot warmly shook the hand of his friend, whose brave fight had increased his of him.
 
"My brother is brave," said he admiringly; "perhaps he can lay Deerfoot on his back; Deerfoot will rejoice if he can do so."
 
"Be the powers! but that suits me," exclaimed the delighted Terry; "I forgot we were to have a wrestling match; Fred, ye will be koind enough to sarve as riferee again; we'll take side holts and it'll be the bist two out of thraa."
 
Terry was warranted in feeling more confidence in this test of skill. He had failed—as he knew he would always fail—in a sparring contest, for the reason that Deerfoot was so quick that he could not touch him; but one of the necessities of a wrestling match is that the shall first seize each other. Terry believed that he had as much physical strength as Deerfoot, and if he once got a fair hold, he would not let go until he downed him.
 
Terry being right and Deerfoot left handed, each was able to secure his most effective grip. So, side by side, in the old fashioned style, with a dusky left arm around the white neck and a white arm around the dusky neck, they began the struggle.
 
In this match, as before, Deerfoot allowed his antagonist to with him awhile before he took the aggressive. Passing him over his Terry gave Deerfoot such a violent fling that a of fear shot through him, lest he had broken the Shawanoe's neck; but though he shot headlong out of the grasp of the Irish lad, the Shawanoe landed lightly on his feet and instantly leaped back and closed with Terry again.
 
"I'll fetch ye this time," he muttered between his compressed lips; "ye shan't git out of me hands till ye's down flat on yer back and mesilf layin' a-straddle of ye. There's a difference between boxin' and sparrin' and I shall taich ye the same, as me grandmither—"
 
Both went down that instant, but the Shawanoe381 was on top. His antagonist could not have fallen flatter had he been dropped from the roof of a house.
 
"Mark the first fall for Deerfut," called out Terry, hastily clambering to his feet, the Shawanoe extending his hand to help.
 
This result weakened the confidence of the Irish lad in himself, that is, so far as concerned his opponent. He reflected that many of the Indians are skillful wrestlers, and while Deerfoot had had no training in boxing, he had in the other art. Such a cool headed athlete would be sure to learn fast. Terry recognized the by which he had been turned off his feet as the very trick he had played successfully on his playmates at home, but which he never dreamed was known to Deerfoot.
 
The Irish lad tried every possible lock, twist and turn upon his rival, but he could not get him off his feet. It seemed to Terry that he whirled in the air when almost on the ground, and that if he had ............