"_He_ wouldn't laugh. He's been all over the world," the boy
asserted. Then, after some deliberation, "I bet he's seen bigger
people than us."

As a matter of fact, Allegheny's sensitiveness about her size had
been quickly apparent to Gray, and during that day he did his
utmost to overcome it, but with what success he could not know.
Buddy was his, body and soul, that much was certain; he made the
conquest doubly secure by engaging the young Behemoth in a scuffle
and playfully putting him on his back. Defeat, at other hands than
Gray's, would have enraged Ozark to the point of frenzy, it would
have been considered by him an indignity and a disgrace. Now,
however, he looked upon it as a natural and wholly satisfactory
demonstration of his idol's supreme prowess, and he roared with
delight at being bested. Gray promptly taught him the wrestling
trick by which he had accomplished the feat, and flattered the boy
immensely by refusing to again try his skill. The older man, when
he really played, could enter into sport with tremendous zest and
he did so now; he taught Buddy trick after trick; they matched
each other in feats of strength and agility. They wound up finally
on opposite sides of the Briskow kitchen table, elbows planted,
fingers interlocked, straining furiously in that muscle-racking,
joint-cracking pastime of the lumber camps known as "twisting
arms." Here again Gray was victorious, until he showed Buddy how
to gain greater leverage by changing the position of his wrist and
by slightly altering his grip, whereupon the boy's superior
strength told. They were red in the face, out of breath, and
soaked with perspiration, when Pa Briskow drove up in his
expensive new touring car.