That was a wrestling-match that Tad never forgot. Abe met the opening rush of the Tennesseean with an old trick, but a good one. Crouching just at the right time, he caught the hunter around the knees and lifted him, letting the momentum of his charge carry him on over Abe’s shoulder. Instantly the young Hoosier spun about and gripped his rival’s body almost before it touched the ground. But Crockett broke the hold with a great writhing twist and rolled over to light on his feet like a fighting cat. After that they came together more cautiously, each seeming to realize that he was dealing with an opponent beyond the common run. They stepped in and out with a swift padding of moccasined feet, their hands sparring for grips. Twice they went down together, with Abe underneath, for he was finding his antagonist tremendously fast and strong. But the lanky flatboatman could turn quickly, too, and he refused to stay under long enough to have his shoulders pinned to the sand. Minutes went by, and still the two kept up their furious pace. It was hot in the sun. Sweat streamed from their bodies, and they panted hoarsely each time they came to grips. But there was no easing off in the ferocity of their attack. To Tad, watching breathlessly and shouting encouragement to his champion, came the thought that here perhaps Abe had met his match. A sudden lightning-like shift of the hunter’s grip and a sharp heave of his shoulders brought the tall youngster to earth yet again, and the watchers could see that this time Abe was hard put to it to defend himself. He was on his right side, with the powerful Crockett partly on top of him, struggling to turn him with a half nelson--a hold in which the hunter’s left arm was used as a lever under Abe’s left arm and around the back of his neck. The Hoosier’s long legs were spread in a wide V to brace him, and he seemed to be making a last desperate resistance against a defeat he could not avoid. “Gosh,” groaned Tad, as he saw Abe’s shoulders slowly giving. “Hol’ on!” Allen breathed. “He ain’t done yet.” And almost before the words had left his mouth, the whole complexion of the bout had changed. With a sudden tremendous twist, Abe rolled over to his right side, breaking the hold, and as he turned, his long, strong legs wound themselves swiftly about the hunter’s middle. “Hooray!” yelled Allen. “I was waitin’ fer that. Watch, now, when he puts the clamps on!” The Tennesseean strove fiercely to break loose, but those fence-rail legs of Abe’s were as tough as hickory. He locked them at the ankles, and as his knees straightened, the hunter’s breath came in short, hard gasps. And slowly Abe began to turn him over. As the minutes passed, Crockett’s endurance ebbed. He made one final try, fighting with the fury of a wildcat to escape from the vise in which he was gripped. Then as his muscles relaxed, his young antagonist pressed him downward with his shoulders squarely on the ground.