“Put it on!” smiled Barbara; but it was so ludicrous surmounting his hunter’s garb that she couldn’t help laughing aloud. Harry looked uneasy, but it was evident that the girl was the one person who could laugh at the sensitive little woodsman with no offense. “I reckon you’re right,” he said, and gravely he handed it to Harry and gravely Harry accepted it. Hugh and his friend had not approached them, for Hugh had seen the frown on his father’s face, but Erskine saw Grey look long at Barbara, turn to question Hugh, and again he began to burn within. The wrestlers had now stepped forth to battle for a pair of silver buckles, and the boy in turn nudged Dave, but unavailingly. The wrestling was good and Dave watched it with keen interest. One huge bull-necked fellow was easily the winner, but when the silver buckles were in his hand, he boastfully challenged anybody in the crowd. Dave shouldered through the crowd and faced the victor. “I’ll try you once,” he said, and a shout of approval rose. The Dale party crowded close and my lord’s coach appeared on the outskirts and stopped. “Backholts or catch-as-catch-can?” asked the victor sneeringly. “As you please,” said Dave. The bully rushed. Dave caught him around the neck with his left arm, his right swinging low, the bully was lifted from the ground, crushed against Dave’s breast, the wind went out of him with a grunt, and Dave with a smile began swinging him to and fro as though he were putting a child to sleep. The spectators yelled their laughter and the bully roared like a bull. Then Dave reached around with his left hand, caught the bully’s left wrist, pulled loose his hold, and with a leftward twist of his own body tossed his antagonist some several feet away. The bully turned once in the air and lighted resoundingly on his back. He got up dazed and sullen, but breaking into a good-natured laugh, shook his head and held forth the buckles to Dave. “You won ’em,” Dave said. “They’re yours. I wasn’t wrastling for them. You challenged. We’ll shake hands.” Then my Lord Dunmore sent for Dave and asked him where he was from. “And do you know the Indian country on this side of the Cumberland?” asked his lordship. “Very well.” His lordship smiled thoughtfully. “I may have need of you.” Dave bowed: “I am an American, my lord.” His lordship flamed, but he controlled himself. “You are at least an open enemy,” he said, and gave orders to move on. The horse-race was now on, and meanwhile a pair of silk stockings, of one pistol’s value, was yet to be conferred. Colonel Dale had given Hugh permission to ride Firefly in the race, but when he saw the lad’s condition he peremptorily refused. “And nobody else can ride him,” he said, with much disappointment. “Let me try!” cried Erskine. “You!” Colonel Dale started to laugh, but he caught Dave’s eye. “Surely,” said Dave. The colonel hesitated. “Very well—I will.”