We were struggling with every sinew, each for the mastery. With a quickness that I might have been expecting, my opponent gave one final lurch. It was an effort that wrenched free the hand which I held in my grip. I tried again and again to clutch it, but I succeeded only in closing my fist in the air. I caught his body between my knees in the hope that I could squeeze the breath out of him. I squirmed this way and that. Now I had his arm or his wrist between my fingers, but before I was sure of myself he had twisted out of danger. We rolled over locked together like tangled pieces of twine, but with every rolling it was he, because of his adroitness, who came uppermost and it was I who was prone upon my back upon the ground. At last the end came. By a piece of mere chance I had slid my arm forward with its entire length under his. Then with a twist of my wrist I laid my hand around his throat. His shoulder was like the resting place of a lever. I began to press steadily. His chin went back and his eyes turned upwards. A little more and his mouth opened showing a row of even white teeth. I was on the verge of tossing him from me when he squirmed once more, this time to the one side. He slid from out the vise that was closing in on him and almost with the same effort sprang quickly to his feet. I jumped up of course, for I thought the conflict but begun when he raised his hand as though to tell me that he had enough and between the heavings of his breath called in a shaking voice, “I did not come here to fight!” I almost laughed in his face. “Why, then, did you come?” demanded Le Brun with a growl. “I came to make friends!” was the answer. “——to make friends?” I echoed. “Do you think a man makes friends through jibes and insults?” By this time both of us had somewhat recovered our breath. In the most serious manner imaginable he threw his hands apart and looked from the armorer to me. “It’s an unfortunate habit I have,” he exclaimed. “It lies in my disposition to dig to the bottom of things—to prod people till they squirm.” “Some day,” said I by way of admonishment, “you’ll prod the wrong person. In such dangerous times as these, when everyone is the other’s enemy, it’ll likely cost you your life.” He paid no more heed to me than if I had not spoken. As though he was aroused by a sudden curiosity, he half closed his eyes and made a mental measurement of me as I have often seen a buyer measure a horse. He took a step or two to the rear. He circled around me. I saw his lips move as though he was noting this or that to himself. Then, with the same ease and confidence as though we had been life-long friends, he came up to me and laid his fingers on the upper part of my arm. “All brawn,” he said. “Tough. Great endurance, but a trifle slow in action.” And with a smile of satisfaction he clapped me heartily on the shoulder. “Can you fight?” he demanded. I wrinkled my brows. “I held my own with you, didn’t I?” I asked.