I never saw an eye like his. It gave me not
fear, but horror! The more I encountered him, the more uncanny he
appeared. The lock of the arm at the back of the neck, those holds known
as the Nelson and the half-Nelson, and the ancient "hip lock," and the
ineffectual schoolboy "grapevine"--he would none of things so crude, and
slipped out of them like a snake. Continually I felt his hands, and
where he touched there was pain--on my forehead, at the edge of the eye
sockets, at the sides of my neck, in the middle of my back--whenever we
locked and broke I felt pain, and I knew that such assault upon the
nerve centers of a man's body might well disable him, no matter how
strong he was. But, as for him, he did not breathe the faster. It was
system with him. I say, I felt not fear only but a horror of him.
By chance I found myself with both hands on his arms, and I knew that no
man could break that hold when once set, for vast strength of forearm
and wrist was one of the inheritances of all men of the Cowles family. I
drew him steadily to me, pulled his head against my chest, and upended
him fair, throwing him this time at length across my shoulder. I was
sure I had him then, for he fell on his side.
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