enemy repeated his words, they did not seem to
enter the ears of Tom. Even when Zeigler put a question direct to him, it
was ignored.

It then became the turn of Zeigler to flush at the general smile that went
round. At last he had been rebuffed.

One afternoon, when there was little custom in the store, Tom entered one
of the rear rooms, where were Zeigler and two other clerks. The fellow's
heart rankled at the snubbing he had received, and he was plotting some
way of "getting even" with the sanctimonious fellow, who would never
swear or indulge in a coarse word.

"This is just the place for a wrestling match," remarked Zeigler. "Gordon,
I will go you."

There was no ignoring this challenge. Tom was a wonderfully fine wrestler,
but none present knew it. He affected to be timid.

"You are bigger than I, and it would hardly be fair," replied Tom,
surveying the bulky form of his challenger.

"O pshaw! you are as heavy as I; besides, I will let you down easy."

"Try him, Gordon," whispered one of the clerks.

"If you will promise not to throw me too hard," said Tom doubtfully, "I
will take one turn with you."

"Of course I won't hurt you," grinned Zeigler, eager for the chance to
humiliate the fellow whom he despised.

All saw his purpose, and none more plainly than Tom himself.

The two doffed their coats and vests, and took their station in the middle
of the room, with their arms interlocked. Tom pretended an awkwardness
which deceived the others, and convinced Zeigler, to use a common
expression, he had a "cinch" in this little affair.

They struggled for a minute, and then, with the suddenness seemingly of a
flash of lightning, Zeigler's heels shot toward the ceiling, and he came
down on his back with a crash that shook the windows.

"I thought you knew something about wrestling," remarked Tom, standing
erect, and looking down on him with a smile, "but you don't know anything
at all."

The two spectators were convulsed with laughter. Zeigler's face was a
fiery crimson, and he scrambled to his feet in a fury.

"That was a slip; you can't do it again!" he exclaimed, springing at Tom
and hastily locking arms with him.

"All right; we'll see. Now do your best, for I mean to throw you just as I
did a minute ago. Are you ready?"

"Of course I am; go ahead."

Zeigler was not lacking in a certain skill. The lesson he had just
received was not lost on him. He was cautious, tricky, and alert--more so
than