"You have described a young David. I am eager to see him. Let us go."

Father Victor nodded, and the two went out together. The chill of the
open was hardly more than the bitter cold inside the building, but
there was a wind that drove the cold through the blood and bones of
a man.

They staggered along against it until they came to a small house, long
and low. On the sheltered side they paused to take breath, and Father
Victor explained: "This is his hour in the gymnasium. To make the body
strong required thought and care. Mere riding and running and swinging
of the ax will not develop every muscle. Here Pierre works every day.
His teachers of boxing and wrestling have abandoned him."

There was almost a smile on the lean face.

"The last man left with a swollen jaw and limping on one leg."

Here he opened the door, and they slipped inside. The air was warmed
by a big stove, and the room--for the afternoon was dark--lighted by
two swinging lanterns suspended from the low roof. By that
illumination Father Anthony saw two men stripped naked, save for a
loincloth, and circling each other slowly in the center of a ring
which was fenced in with ropes and floored with a padded mat.

Of the two wrestlers, one was a veritable giant, swarthy of skin,
hairy-chested. His great hands were extended to grasp or to parry--his
head lowered with a ferocious scowl--and across his forehead swayed a
tuft of black, shaggy hair. He might have stood for one of those