Bruce was tall, and broad-shouldered, and stout, and muscular. His hat sat loosely on his head, and his hair clustered in careless curls about his broad forehead. His eyes seemed to flash, and his thin nostrils quivered with disdain. He looked like a statue of Apollo, as he stood there, in the glow of his youthful strength and beauty, and faced down his enemies. Their very numbers, instead of overawing him, only served to rouse to the utmost the whole vigor of his soul, and stirred up his proud, bold spirit to a scornful self-assertion. A movement now took place among the Gaspereaugians, and murmurs passed through them. At length the big fellow who had been so fierce with Bart went forward from out the crowd of his companions, to the place where Bruce was standing by the pool of the camp. He was a big, hulking, clumsy, low-browed fellow, with a heavy gait and sullen face. He was taller and stouter than Bruce, and evidently considered himself the champion of his party. As he approached, Bruce stood, with folded arms, regarding him, while his lips curled into a smile. “Well,” he said, in a gay and careless tone, “what can I do for you?” The big fellow clambered up the dam, and stood in front of Bruce. “Whar’s Bruce Rawdon?” he said, looking round, and pretending not to know that he was there before him. “Whar’s this Bruce Rawdon that youns brag on? Put him down here, fur I want to hev a trial with him--I want to wrastle.” “My good fellow,” said Bruce, “I’m Bruce Rawdon, and I’m quite at your service. Only you are mistaken if you think that we brag on any one. We’re not a bragging camp.” The Gaspereaugian looked at him, and made a ridiculous grimace. “So this is Bruce Rawdon!” said he--“this here! Wal, Rawdon, let’s wrastle. We’ll decide who’s the best man. On’y take care of your close, my fine feller. I’m generally considered rough. Yes, rough as a bar,--that’s what I be.” “All right,” said Bruce, quietly, and in a minute he had flung off his hat, coat, and waistcoat. “I’ll keep my duds on,” said the Gaspereaugian; “on’y that--that’s by way of defyin’.” And saying this he flung his hat on the ground. Upon this the two champions prepared to grapple. The place where they stood was a grass plot on one side of the pool. The pool was full to the brim. The “B. O. W. C.” stood on the dam. The Gaspereaugians stood about twenty paces off. It was a moment of intense excitement. For a few seconds they stood with extended arms, warily regarding one another. Then Bruce made a plunge forward, and before the other could guard against it, he had caught him around the waist, under his arms. Bruce had got the “underhold.” The two were now locked in a close embrace, and for a few moments the big Gaspereaugian made tremendous efforts to throw his antagonist. But the efforts were unsuccessful. Bruce did not exert himself much, but quietly evaded the efforts of the other, and still held his adversary in an unrelaxing grasp.