With a bellow
of rage, Hordle John squeezed him limp in his huge arms; and
then, picking him up, cast him down upon the floor with a force
which might well have splintered a bone or two, had not the
archer with the most perfect coolness clung to the other's
forearms to break his fall. As it was, he dropped upon his feet
and kept his balance, though it sent a jar through his frame
which set every joint a-creaking. He bounded back from his
perilous foeman; but the other, heated by the bout, rushed madly
after him, and so gave the practised wrestler the very vantage
for which he had planned. As big John flung himself upon him,
the archer ducked under the great red hands that clutched for
him, and, catching his man round the thighs, hurled him over his
shoulder--helped as much by his own mad rush as by the trained
strength of the heave. To Alleyne's eye, it was as if John had
taken unto himself wings and flown. As he hurtled through the
air, with giant limbs revolving, the lad's heart was in his
mouth; for surely no man ever yet had such a fall and came
scathless out of it.
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