n?"

"The time I got a black eye, and you lost part of your ear?" asked
Harding, his eyes brightening at thought of it.

"That's the time," declared Bishop. "I tore your clothes most to
pieces."

"I don't remember about that," responded the railroad magnate, "but I
do remember that I flopped you three times out of five."

"Three times outer nothin'!" exclaimed the farmer. "I put you down fair
and square three times running, Bob, and if you'll stop and think a
minute you'll recollect it."

"Recollect nothing!" defiantly laughed Harding. "You never saw the day
in your life, when you or any boy in Buckfield could put my shoulders to
the ground three times running. You're losing your memory, Jim."

"I did it all right."

"I say you didn't!"

"And I can do it again!"

"You can, eh?" shouted Harding, springing to his feet and pulling off
his coat. "We'll mighty quick see if you can! I'll tackle you right here
on this croquet ground!"

"Side holt, square holt, or catch-as-catch-can?" asked Bishop, casting
one anxious look towards the house.

"We always rassled catch-as-catch-can, and you know it," declared
Harding. "I suppose you think just because I do nothing but build
railroads and things that I've grown effeminate since you tackled me the
last time. Come on; I'll show you!"

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you, Bob," said Bishop, and I could see that he
honestly meant it. "I've been outer doors all my life, an' you've
been----"

"I suppose you think I've been in an incubator, don't ye?" snorted
Harding. "Don't weaken! Don't be a coward, Jim! There's the line; toe
it!" and he marked a crease in the soft turf.

"You bet I'll toe it!" growled the now irate farmer. "And don't whimper
if I break a bone or two when I flop ye!"

As Bishop threw his cap to the ground and rushed toward the defiant
millionaire Carter saw fit to interfere.

"Don't do this," he protested, jumping between them. "One of you will
get hurt! It's dangerous for men of your age to wrestle!"

Both of them reached out and brushed Carter away, and the next instant
they were at it.

Bishop ducked and got an underhold, and I was sure Harding would go
down, but he braced himself with his huge legs, and with the strength of
a giant broke the clasp of his opponent's arms. It takes skill as well
as muscle to do this, and I saw at a glance that Harding had not
forgotten the tricks of his boyhood. As Bishop spun half-way around the
other caught him at a