“Ise allers ready; you oughter know dat, Al—”
Before he could end his sentence, his big feet shot upward as high as his head had been a moment before. The white youth with fine dexterity flung off the grasp of Jethro in the same instant, and he went down on his back with an impact that seemed to shake the earth and forced a loud grunt from him.
“First fall for Tony!” called Alden; “change holds!”
“Dat warn’t fair,” protested Jethro, as he clambered to his feet.
“Why wasn’t it fair?” asked the umpire.
“I warn’t ready.”
“You said you were; change holds.”
“I won’t wrestle if I’ve got to use my left arm.”
“That’s the rule of the game; you must do it.”
“I’m satisfied,” said the grinning Tony, who, before Jethro could back out, slid his left arm behind the burly neck of the African. In the same instant, the struggle was renewed with all the cunning, power and skill of which the two were masters.
Tony did not find his task as easy as before.
