perspiration bedewing the bodies of both combatants, told how severe
had been their exertions. The blacksmith seemed gathering himself up
for a mighty effort, when, quick as light, the Brahmin drew his limbs
together, was seen to arch his back, and with a sudden backward
movement, seemed to glide from under his dashing assailant, and
quicker than it takes me to write it, the positions were reversed.

The Brahmin was now above, and the blacksmith taking in the altered
aspect of affairs at a glance, threw himself flat on the ground, and
tried the same tactics as his opponent. The different play of the two
men now came strongly into relief. Instead of exhausting himself with
useless efforts, Roopnarain, while keeping a wary eye on every
movement of his prostrate foe, contented himself while he took breath,
with coolly and and yet determinedly making his grip secure. Putting
out one leg then within reach of his opponent's hand, as a lure, he
saw the blacksmith stretch forth to grasp the tempting hold.

Quicker than the dart of the python, the fierce onset of the kingly
tiger, the sudden flash of the forked and quivering lightning, was the
grasp made at the outstretched arm by the practised Brahmin. His
tenacious fingers closed tightly round the other's wrist. One sudden
wrench, and he had the blacksmith's arm bent back and powerless, held
down on the little fellow's own shoulders. Pat smiled a derisive
smile, K. uttered what was not a benison, while the Brahmins in the
crowd, and all Pat's men, raised a truly Hindoo howl. The position of
the men was now this. The stout little man was flat on his face, one
of his arms bent helplessly round on his own back. Roopnarain, calm
and cool as ever, was astride the prostrate blacksmith, placidly
surveying the crowd. The little man writhed, and twisted, and
struggled, he tried with his legs to entwine himself with those of the
Brahmin. He tried to spin round; the Brahmin was watching with the eye
of a hawk for a grip of the other arm, but it was closely drawn in,
and firmly pressed in safety under the heaving chest of the
blacksmith. The muscles were of steel; it could not be dislodged: that
was seen at a glance. The calmness and placidity of the old athlete
was surprising, it was wonderful. Still bending the imprisoned arm
further back, he put his knee on the neck of the poor little hero,
game as a pebble through it all, and by a strong steady strain tried
to bend him over, till we