Now it happened that Skip Billings regarded himself as a clever wrestler, while as a fighter Tapper Mullin was known on the Point to be second only to Bingo McCord. “Here’s where we have a little sport!” exclaimed Bingo. “Clear der floor, gents, and see Skip pile this frisky chap up in a hurry.” The prospect of a wrestling match seemed to delight every one present, and without delay the space was cleared. Deliberately the young hobo removed his ragged coat and tossed it into a corner, flinging his battered hat after it. “Better take your drink first,” grinned McCord, motioning toward the single glass left standing on the bar. “I’ll take that later,” said the hobo. “Had enough already. Mebbe I’ll want it after I put this gent on his back.” “If you wait until you put me on my back,” said Billings, “you’ll never take another drink. Come on!” A moment later they clinched. If any one present expected to see Skip Billings down the stranger he was disappointed. Although Billings seemed to obtain the best hold and made an effort to hurl the tramp over his hip, the strength and skill of the hobo enabled him to avoid a fall. “Go on, Skip!” cried several. “Pile him up! Down him!” “Down he goes!” panted Billings, as he back-locked his antagonist. While they were falling the stranger seemed to fetch a remarkable writhing twist in the air, and when they struck heavily on the floor a shout of surprise went up, for Billings was underneath and flat on his back. Billings himself was astounded, for until he landed on the floor he had fancied himself the victor. How he had been brought underneath while falling he could not conceive. “What’s dis?” shouted McCord, in great astonishment. “Did he t’row you, Skip? What’s de matter wid yer?” “Accident!” declared Billings savagely. “I had him going.” The tramp laughed. “The secret of success,” he observed, “is to keep a good thing up after you’ve started. You can’t keep it up, me friend.” Being released, Billings scrambled to his feet, his face flushed and his eyes glaring. “You’ll never fool me another time that way!” he declared. “You can’t throw me again in a hundred years!” “Various opinions about that, me friend,” chuckled the tramp. “But I guess this business is settled. One fall was to end it.” “One fall don’t end it!” snarled Billings. “You will have to try it again.” “Now, hold on!” cried the stranger, holding up his hand. “I say it ain’t fair—it ain’t fair!” “Make him take his medicine, Skip!” exclaimed several. In spite of his protest, the tramp was compelled to meet Billings again. The two men crouched at a little distance from each other, while McCord gave the word. “Are you ready?” was his question. “Sure!” growled Billings. “All ready,” said the stranger. “Then fly at it!” Round and round they circled, crouching low, their arms swinging, watching for an opening. Suddenly the tramp seemed to give Billings his chance. Skip rushed in and grabbed.