"Faith, I cannot tell, Monsieur," she said, gayly; "stranger things have happened, and 'tis not altogether fine clothes that win the hearts of maidens on this far frontier. We learn soon to love strength, and the manly traits of the border. On my word, Monsieur, this John Wayland seems to have rare powers of body; I imagine he might even have crushed you, as he said." "Think you so?" he asked, eying me curiously. "Yet 'tis not always as it looks, Mademoiselle." It came so quickly as to startle me. I was wondering at the smile that curled his lips, when he sprang upon me, casting his arms around my waist, and twining one leg about mine. The shock of this sudden and unexpected onset took me completely by surprise, and I gave back sharply, scarce realizing his purpose, till he had the under-hold, and sought to lift me for a throw. 'Twas my weight alone that saved me, together with the rare good fortune that I had been leaning upon my gun. As the breath came back to me, we locked grimly in a fierce struggle for the mastery. I had felt the straining grip of strong arms before, but De Croix surprised me, he was like steel, quick of motion as a wild-cat, with many a cunning French wrestling trick that tried me sorely. I heard a quick exclamation of surprise from the girl, a shout of delighted approval from Jordan, and then there was no sound but the harsh trampling of our feet and the heavy breathing. De Croix's effort was to lift me to his hip for a throw; mine, to press him backward by bodily strength. Both of us were sadly hindered by the sliding sand on which we strove. Twice I thought I had him, when my footing failed; and once he held me fairly uplifted from the ground, yet could not make the toss. 'Twas a wild grapple, for when we had exhausted all the tricks we knew, it came to be a sheer test of physical endurance. Then, for the first time, I felt myself the master,--though he was a man, that gay French dandy, and never did my ribs crack under the pressure of a stronger hand. But I slowly pressed him back, inch by inch, struggling like a demon to the last, until I forced his shoulders to the sand. For a moment he lay there, panting heavily; then the old frank and easy smile came upon his lips. "Your hand, monsieur," he said; "that is, if it yet retains sufficient strength to lift me." Upon his feet he brushed the sand from out his long hair, and bowed gallantly. "I have done my very best, Mademoiselle, 'Tis defeat, but not disgrace, for I have made your giant puff to win. May I not hope it has won me restoration to your good graces?" CHAPTER IX IN SIGHT OF THE FLAG It would have been impossible not to respond to his sparkling humor and good nature, even had the girl been desirous of doing otherwise. From the first I felt that she liked this reckless courtier, whose easy words and actions made me realize more deeply than ever my own heaviness of thought and wit.