“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 disadvantage, raised him clear from the turf and dashed him down, falling with all his weight upon him.

It was as clean and quick a fall as I have seen, but for a second my heart stood still, fearing Bishop’s neck had been broken.  He gasped once or twice, and then I heard a muffled laugh.

“Let me up, Bob; that’s one for you!” he said, and both struggled to their feet.  There was a rent in the right knee of Harding’s trousers, and his shirt was a sight, but he neither knew of this nor would have cared for it.

“Not quite so soft and easy as you thought I was eh, Jim?” he panted, extending his hand.  “You got the holt all right, but you wasn’t quick enough.”

“I held you too cheap that time,” admitted Bishop, rather sheepishly, throwing away a pair of ruined suspenders, “but I’ll get you this time.  Come on, Bob!”

“You referee this match, Smith!” said Harding, standing on guard.  “You know the rules.  No fall unless both shoulders and one hip is down.”