ead lowered with a ferocious scowl--and across his forehead
swayed a tuft of black, shaggy hair. He might have stood for one of
those northern barbarians whom the Romans loved to pit against their
native champions in the arena. He was the greater because of the
opponent he faced, and it was upon this opponent that the eyes of
Father Anthony centered.

Like Father Victor, he was caught first by the bright hair. It was a
dark red, and where the light struck it strongly there were places like
fire. Down from this hair the light slipped like running water over a
lithe body, slender at the hips, strong-chested, round and smooth of
limb, with long muscles everywhere leaping and trembling at every move.

He, like the big Canuck, circled cautiously about, but the impression
he gave was as different from the other as day is from night. His head
was carried high; in place of a scowl, he smiled with a sort of boyish
eagerness, and a light which was partly exultation and partly mischief
sparkled in his eyes. Once or twice the giant caught at the other, but
David slipped from under the grip of Goliath easily. It seemed as if
his skin were oiled. The big man snarled with anger, and lunged more
eagerly at Pierre. Father Anthony caught the shoulder of his friend.

"Quick!" he whispered anxiously. "Stop them, for if the black fellow
sets his fingers on the boy he will break him like a willow wand,
and--in the name of God, Jean Paul!"

For the two, abandoning their feints, suddenly rushed together, and the
swarthy arms of the monster slipped around the white body of Pierre.
For a moment they whirled, twisting and struggling.

"Now!" murmured Father Victor; and as if in answer to a command, Pierre
slipped down, whipped his hands to a new grip, and the two crashed to
the mat, with Pierre above.

"Open your eyes, Father Anthony. The lad is safe. How Goliath grunts!"

The boy had not cared to follow his advantage, but rose and danced
away, laughing softly. The Canuck floundered up and rushed like a
furious bull. His downfall was only the swifter. The impact of the
two bodies sounded like hands clapped together, and then Goliath rose
into the air, struggling mightily, and pitched with a thud to the mat.

He writhed there, for the wind was knocked from his body by the fall.
At length he struggled to a sitting posture and glared up at the
conqueror. The boy reached out a hand to his fallen foe.

"You would have thrown m