This warning was addressed to a lad about the size of Alden. He was a clerk in a St. Joe grocery store, and known to everybody. His merriment was more boisterous than anybody else’s. The instant the threat was uttered, however, his face became sober. He took a step forward. “Are you talking to _me_?” he demanded, and an instant hush fell on the bystanders. “Yas, I is; doan’ you hyar me? Is you deef? You’s getting too sassy, Tone Burke; you need taking down a peg or two, and _I’m_ de gemman dat am gwine to doot.” “I’m your apple tart; put up your fists.” “Who said anyting ’bout fists? I was talking ’bout wrastlin’; if your head warn’t so thick you’d understood me.” “Very well; I prefer fists, but I’ll wrestle.” “_Fus’ holt!_” shouted Jethro, his face lighting up with a grin at the advantage thus gained by his promptness. “Suit yourself,” calmly replied the other. Both were right-handed. Jethro because of his call secured the choice as to which side he should take, when they made ready for the struggle. Naturally, he placed himself on the left of his antagonist, and slipped the right arm behind his neck, with the hand over the farther shoulder. The white youth assumed a reverse position, making his left arm take the place of the other’s right. Thus the right hand of the white youth and the left hand of the African were free. The two loosely gripped hands in front, for be it remembered the method described was the old fashioned way of wrestling, and is still popular in many parts of the country. Alden Payne’s anger was wafted aside by the new turn of matters, and the eyes of all were fixed upon the couple. Alden took upon himself the duty of umpire. “Are you ready, Tony?” he called. “Ready,” was the reply. “Ready, Jeth?” “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.