"A man's chest!" he grunted. "By heaven, I love you, Trevanion!" Then I saw that he was trying for the "loin throw," and prepared myself for his advances. Thus it was when he thought to accomplish his purpose I was ready for him, and for a moment held him at advantage. "Ah!" he cried, "better and better!" But I knew that every power I possessed would have to be used, for by this time the fierce longing for mastery had come over him. Never did I feel so glad as at that moment that I had been true to the traditions of my race and county. For the Trevanions, although the sport had during the last few years been kept alive by the common people, had always been noted as wrestlers, and that in the county which, man to man, could challenge Europe. While I had the advantage, therefore, I gripped him for a hug. Had he been a weaker man his ribs would have cracked like matches, indeed, had he been able to hold me so, I doubt whether the struggle would have continued a minute longer. But he had caught a deep breath, and I might as well have sought to crush a tree as Benet Killigrew. So I gave up the hug and he laughed like a boy. "A good try!" he grunted, and then he tested me sorely. My sinews seemed likely to crack, so great was the strain that he put upon them, while the sweat came out over my forehead, and rolled down my face. However I held my ground, and when at length he failed in the cross hitch, I began to have more confidence. Especially did I hope for victory as I heard him mutter savagely, "By Cormoran, he's my match!"