It was evident that the villagers in the square were struggling hard,
for their forms were interlocked and they were divided into two lines,
which swayed back and forth as one gained or yielded ground.

"It is a wrestling bout," whispered Ashman to his companion, and then,
reflecting that their situation was dangerous, the two stopped from the
path among the trees, where they would not be noticed by any passing
near.

Suddenly something like a groan was heard from the body of contesting
men. Almost at the same instant, a command was shouted from the
further end of the square, where part of the spectators were gathered.
The two lines fell apart, and ran silently and swiftly to opposite
points a hundred feet distant, where they abruptly halted as if in
obedience to some signal and faced each other.

This was stirring enough, but that which riveted the eyes of the white
men was the sight of three figures lying prone on the ground, at the
foot of the pole.

They were as motionless as so many stones. There could be no mistaking
the significance of the sight: they were dead.

It may have been some species of sport in which the actors were engaged
for the entertainment of the spectators, but, if so, there was an awful
earnestness about it, for the stake for which they strove was human
life.

The two lines faced each other but a moment, when another shout rang