When Jumbo glanced across the floor and saw the man that was to be his
opponent striding toward the mat in the center of the floor, he wished
that some one else had been placed as the keystone in the Kingston
arch of success. For Jumbo knew well the man's record as a wrestler.
But Jumbo himself, while small, was well put together; and though
built, as he said, "close to the ground," he was built for business.
Since he had gone in for wrestling he had made it the specialty of
all his athletic exercises. He had practised everything that had any
bearing on the strengthening of particular muscles or general agility.
He had practised cart-wheels, hand-springs, back and front flips. He
had worked with his neck at the chest-weight machine. He would walk on
his hands to strengthen his throat, and his collars had grown in a few
weeks from thirteen and a half to fifteen, and he could no longer
wear his old shirts without splitting them. He made the mats in the
Kingston gymnasium almost his home.
His special studies were bridging and spinning. He spent hours on his
back, rising to his two feet and his head and then rolling from one
shoulder to the other and spinning to his front. When he had his
bridge-building abilities fairly well started, he compelled his heavy
chum Sawed-Off to act as a living meal-bag, and rolled around upon
the top of his head and bridged, with Sawed-Off laying all his weight
across his chest. When he went to bed he bridged there until the best
of wrestlers, sleep, had downed him. When he woke in the morning, he
fell out of bed to the floor, turning his head under him and rolling
so as not to break his neck or any bones, and bridging rigidly upon
his head and bare feet.
Jumbo knew that, whatever might be the ability of his rival, the
Trojan Ware, at least he, Jumbo, could have his conscience easy with
the thought that he had made the most profitable use of the short time
he had spent on wrestling, and that he would put up as good a fight as
was in him.
More than that no athlete can do.
Jumbo and Ware met upon the mattress with their close-shaven heads
looking like bulldogs' jowls; and they shook hands--if one can imagine
bulldogs shaking hands.
Jumbo had two cardinal principles, but he could put neither of them
into practice in the first maneuvers: the first was always to try to
get out of one difficulty by dumping the opponent into another; the
second was always to try for straight-arm leverages.
Ware being the larger of the two, Jumbo was content to play a waiting
game and find out something of the methods of his burly opponent. He
dodged here and there, avoiding the reaching lobster-claws of Ware by
quick wriggles or by slapping his hands away as they thrust. Suddenly
Ware made a quick rush, and, breaking through Jumbo's interference,
seized him around the body to bend him backward. But while the man was
straining his hardest, Jumbo brought his hands around and placed them
together in front of the pit of his stomach, so that the harder Ware
squeezed the harder he pressed Jumbo's fists into his abdomen.
Ware looked foolish at being foiled so neatly, and broke away, only to
come at Jumbo again, and clasp him so close that there was no room for
his fists to press against Ware's diaphragm. But now Jumbo suddenly
clasped his left arm back of Ware's neck, and with his right hand bent
the man's forehead back until he was glad enough to let go and spring
away. Ware continued to run around Jumbo as a dog runs around a treed
cat. But Jumbo always evaded his quick rushes till Ware, after many
false moves, finally made a sudden and unforeseen dash, seized Jumbo's
right hand with both of his, whirled in close, and, with his back
against Jumbo's chest, carried the Lakerimmer's right arm straight and
stiff across his shoulder. Bearing down with all his weight on this
lever, and at the same time dropping to his knees, he shot Jumbo over
his shoulders, heels over head.
"That Flying Mere was certainly a bird!" said Bobbles.
Ware went down with Jumbo, to land on his chest and break any bridge
the boy might form. And the Flying Mere had been such a surprise,
and the fall was so far and the floor so hard, that, while Jumbo
instinctively tried to bridge, his effort collapsed. His two shoulders
touched. The bout was over.
The first fall had been so quickly accomplished, and Jumbo had offered
so feeble a resistance, that the Troy faction at once accepted the
wrestling-match as theirs, and the Kingstonians gave up the evening as
hopelessly lost.
Jumbo was especially covered with chagrin, since he had practised so
long, and had builded so many hopes on this victory; worst of all, the
whole success of the contest between the two academies depended on his
victory.
When, then, after a rest, the referee called "Time!" Ware came
stalking up jauntily and confidently; but Jumbo, instead of skulking,
was up, and at, and on him like a wildcat. Ware had expected that the
Lakerim youngster would pursue the same elusive tactics as before, and
he was all amaze while Jumbo was seizing his left hand with his own
left hand, and, darting round behind him, was bending Ware's arm
backward and upward into the Hammerlock.
The pain of this twist sent Ware's body forward, so that Jumbo could
reach up under his right armpit and, placing the palm of his right
hand on the back of Ware's head, make use of that crowbar known as the
right Half-Nelson. This pressure was gradually forcing Ware forward on
the top of his head; but he knew the proper break for the Hammerlock,
and simply threw himself face forward on the mat.
As he rose to his knees again Jumbo pounced on him like a hawk, and
while Ware waited patiently the little Lakerimmer was reaching under
Ware's armpit again for another Half-Nelson; but Ware simply dodged
the grasping of Jumbo's right hand, or, bringing his right arm
vigorously back and down, so checked Jumbo's arm that the boy could
not reach his neck. Jumbo now tried, by leaning his left forearm and
all his weight upon Ware's head, to bring it into reach; but Ware's
neck was too strong, and when he stiffened it Jumbo could not force it
down.
Ware waited in amused patience to learn just how much Jumbo knew about
wrestling. Jumbo wandered around on his knees, feinting for another
Half-Nelson, and making many false plays to throw Ware off his guard.
Suddenly, while Ware seemed to be all neck against a Half-Nelson,
Jumbo dropped to his knees near Ware's right arm, and, shooting his
left arm under Ware's body and his right arm across beneath Ware's
chin, laid violent hold on the man's left arm near the shoulder with
what is known as the Farther-Arm Hold. Jumbo's movement was so quick
and unexpected that Ware could not parry it by throwing his left leg
out and forward for a brake. He realized at once that he would have to
go, and when Jumbo gave a quick yank he rolled over and bridged. But
Jumbo followed him quickly over, and clasping Ware's left arm between
his legs, he forced the right arm out straight also with both his
hands so that Ware could not roll. Then he simply pressed with all his
force upon Ware's chest. And waited.
Also weighted.
Ware squirmed and wriggled and grunted and writhed, but there was no
escape for him, and while he stuck it out manfully, with Jumbo heavy
upon him, he knew that he was a goner.
And finally, with a sickly groan, London Bridge came a-falling down.
The bout was Jumbo's, and he retired to his corner with a heart much
lighter. The applause of the audience, the rip-roaring enthusiasm
of the Kingston Academy yell, followed by the beloved club cry of
Lakerim, rejoiced him mightily. He had put down a man far heavier
than he; and he felt that possibly, perchance, maybe, there was a
probability of a contingency in which he might be able to have a
chance of downing him once more--perhaps.
It was a very cool and cautious young man that came forward to
represent Kingston when the referee exclaimed:
"Shake hands for the third and last bout!"
Jumbo, as soon as he had released Ware's fingers, dropped to his
hands and knees on the mat, squatting far back on his haunches, and
manifested a cheerful willingness to go almost anywhere except on the
back of his two shoulders.
It was Ware's turn to be aggressive now, for he had been laughed at
not a little for being downed by so small an opponent. He spent some
time and more strength in picking Jumbo up bodily from the mat and
dropping him all over the place. Jumbo's practice at bridging stood
him in excellent stead now, and he got out of many a tight corner by a
quick, firm bridge or a sudden spin.
Ware time after time forced one of the boy's shoulders to the mat,
and strove with all his vim to force the other shoulder down. And
he generally succeeded; but the first always came up. Jumbo went
willingly from one shoulder to the other, but never from one to both.
He frequently showed a most obliging disposition, and did what Ware
wanted him to, or, rather, he did just that and a little more--he
always went too far; and Ware was becoming convinced that he never
could get those two obstinate shoulder-blades to the mat at the same
time.
After much puttering, he reached the goal of his ambition, and got
the deadly Full-Nelson on Jumbo's head, and forced it slowly and
irresistibly down. Just as he was congratulating himself that he had
his fish landed, Jumbo suddenly whirled his legs forward and assumed a
sitting position. The whole problem was reversed. Ware rose wearily to
his feet, and Jumbo returned to his hands and knees.
Once more Ware strove for the Nelson. He was jabbing Jumbo's head and
trying to shove it down within reach of his right hand. Suddenly, with
a surprising abruptness, Jumbo's head was not there,--he had jerked it
quickly to one side,--and Ware's hand slipped down and almost touched
the floor. But the watchful Jumbo had seized Ware's wrist with
both hands, and returned to the big fellow the compliment of the
Straight-Ann Leverage and the Flying Mere which had been so fatal
to himself in the first bout. Ware's fall was not nearly so far as
Jumbo's had been, and he managed to bridge and save himself.
Before Jumbo could settle on his chest, Ware was out of danger. But he
went to his hands and knees in a defensive attitude that showed he was
nearly worn out.
Jumbo did not see just what right Ware had to imitate his own
position, and the two of them sprawled like frogs, eying each other
jealously.
Jumbo soon saw that he was expected to take the aggressive or go
to sleep; so, with a lazy sigh, he began snooping around for those
nuggets of wrestling, the Nelsons. After foiling many efforts, the
Trojan noted all at once that Jumbo's head was not above Ware's
shoulders, but back of the right armpit. In a flash a thought of pity
went through Ware's brain.
"Poor fool!" he almost groaned aloud; and reaching back, he gathered
Jumbo's head into chancery.
A sigh went up from all Kingston, and Sawed-Off gasped:
"Poor Jumbo 's gone!"
But just as Ware, chuckling with glee, started to roll Jumbo over, the
boy swung at right angles across Ware's back, and brought the Trojan's
arm helplessly to the Hammerlock.
This was a new trick to Ware, one he had never heard of, but one that
he understood and respected immediately. He yielded to it judiciously,
and managed to spin on his head before Jumbo could land on his chest.
Ware had more respect now for Jumbo, and decided to keep him on the
defensive, especially as a bystander announced that the time was
almost up.
Ware rushed the contest, and, after many failures, managed to secure a
perfect Full-Nelson. Jumbo's position was such that there was no way
for him to squirm out. He resisted until it seemed that his neck would
break. In vain. His head was slowly forced under.
And now his shoulders began to follow, and he was rolling over on his
back.
One shoulder is down.
The referee is on all fours, his cheek almost to the ground. He is
watching for the meeting of those two shoulders upon the mat.
The Kingstonians have given up, and the Trojans have their cheers all
ready.
And now the despairing Jumbo feels that his last minute has come. But
just for the fraction of a second he sees that the cautious Ware is
slightly changing his hold.
With a sudden, a terrific effort, he throws all his soul into his
muscles--closes his arms like a vise on Ware's arms. The Nelson is
broken, or weakened into uselessness. He draws his head into his
shoulders as a turtle's head is drawn into its shell, whirls like
lightning on the top of his head to his other shoulder, and on over,
carrying the horrified Ware with him, plouncing the Trojan flat on his
back, and plumping down on top of him.
And the excited referee went over on his back also, and kicked his
heels foolishly in the air as he cried:
"Down!"
Jumbo had won the match.
This brought the score of contests back to a tie, and the result of
these Olympic games now rested entirely on the victors of the Tug of
War.