rounds of combat, bloodless but
just as decisive.

There was a single alley, at the far end of which stood ten pins.
Jenkins measured the alley with his eyes and figured it to be just about
the length of a conventional bowling alley. The backstop was built up of
earth and was soft enough so that the pins would not splinter on
striking it.

"We all know the rules," Lucretia said. "To the victor goes the rule of
our land. To the loser, slavery. Therefore, let us begin. Since I hold
title, I choose to have my champion bowl last."

* * * * *

The giant's man bowled first against Loti. Just as Lucretia had said, he
had speed but that was all. Loti had a much slower ball, but one that
knocked down more pins on his hits. The giant got too many splits and
railroads to be able to beat the little man.

Then, after a short wait, Griffin took the alley against Loti. And from
the first ball, Jenkins saw that the little man stood no chance.
Griffin's hook worked beautifully on the velvet grass lawn. He literally
swamped Loti, whose shoulders slumped in weariness and discouragement as
Griffin struck out.

"And so we remain slaves once more," Loti said, as the pin setter set up
the last rack. "Once, when the man called Rip Van Winkle bowled, I
thought we had a chance. But she got him drunk and we lost that match.
Now this."

Lucretia was elated. As the last strike scattered the pins, she ran up
to Griffin and planted a kiss on his lips.

"My champion!" she crowed. "Now we will take care of these big and
little creatures once and for all. Once I was generous. Now I will be
otherwise."

"Maybe!" Jenkins suddenly spoke. "But we're not through bowling. I am
now of the people here, and I challenge the winner of the two matches."

Loti caught up the other's words:

"He speaks true. He has the right to challenge."

"Is it true," Jenkins asked, "that the winner has the right to give
terms?"

"Aye," Loti said.

"Then let's bowl," Jenkins said.

He tried the grip of the ball Loti passed to him. It was a two-fingered
grip, and just a little small. As the challenger, Jenkins had to bowl
first. He measured the distance carefully, tried to figure the angle
into the pocket, took a three-step run and let his ball go in a medium
swing. The ball hooked in neatly, and left a four-seven split. A laugh
arose from Lucretia's followers. But silence fell among them as Jenkins
made the pickup.

"Nice shot,