we should be
nice upon points of honour. But you remember the old hand-grip which no
man in the Palatinate could exchange with you? Here is my captain, Micah
Clarke. Let him see how warm a North German welcome may be.'

The Brandenburger showed his white teeth in a grin as he held out his
broad brown hand to me. The instant that mine was enclosed in it he
suddenly bent his whole strength upon it, and squeezed my fingers
together until the blood tingled in the nails, and the whole hand was
limp and powerless.

'Donnerwetter!' he cried, laughing heartily at my start of pain and
surprise. 'It is a rough Prussian game, and the English lads have not
much stomach for it.'

'Truly, sir,' said I, 'it is the first time that I have seen the
pastime, and I would fain practise it under so able a master.'

'What, another!' he cried. 'Why, you must be still pringling from the
first. Nay, if you will I shall not refuse you, though I fear it may
weaken your hold upon your sword-hilt.'

He held out his hand as he spoke, and I grasped it firmly, thumb to
thumb, keeping my elbow high so as to bear all my force upon it. His own
trick was, as I observed, to gain command of the other hand by a great
output of strength at the onset. This I prevented by myself putting out
all my power. For a minute or more we stood motionless, gazing into each
other's faces. Then I saw a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, and
I knew that he was beaten. Slowly his grip relaxed, and his hand grew
limp and slack while my own tightened ever upon it, until he was forced
in a surly, muttering voice to request that I should unhand him.

'Teufel und hexerei!' he cried, wiping away the blood which oozed from
under his nails, 'I might as well put my fingers in a rat-trap. You
are the first man that ever yet exchanged fair hand-grips with Anthony
Buyse.'

'We breed brawn in England as well as in Brandenburg,' said Saxon, who
was shaking with laughter over the German soldier's discomfiture. 'Why,
I have seen that lad pick up a full-size sergeant of dragoons and throw
him into a cart as though he had been a clod of earth.'

'Strong he is,' grumbled Buyse, still wringing his injured hand, 'strong
as old Gotz mit de iron grip. But what good is strength alone in the
handling of a weapon? It is not the force of a blow, but the way in
which it is geschlagen, that makes the effect. Your sword now is heavier
than mine, by the look of it, and yet my blade would bit