Notwithstanding his reconciliation with the dentist on the boat, Marcus’s gorge rose within him at McTeague’s boasting swagger.  When McTeague had slapped him on the back, Marcus had retired to some little distance while he recovered his breath, and glared at the dentist fiercely as he strode up and down, glorying in the admiring glances of the women.

“Ah, one-horse dentist,” he muttered between his teeth.  “Ah, zinc-plugger, cow-killer, I’d like to show you once, you overgrown mucker, you—­you—­cow-killer!”

When he rejoined the group, he found them preparing for a wrestling bout.

“I tell you what,” said Heise, “we’ll have a tournament.  Marcus and I will rastle, and Doc and Ryer, and then the winners will rastle each other.”

The women clapped their hands excitedly.  This would be exciting.  Trina cried: 

“Better let me hold your money, Mac, and your keys, so as you won’t lose them out of your pockets.”  The men gave their valuables into the keeping of their wives and promptly set to work.

The dentist thrust Ryer down without even changing his grip; Marcus and the harness-maker struggled together for a few moments till Heise all at once slipped on a bit of turf and fell backwards.  As they toppled over together, Marcus writhed himself from under his opponent, and, as they reached the ground, forced down first one shoulder and then the other.

“All right, all right,” panted the harness-maker, goodnaturedly, “I’m down.  It’s up to you and Doc now,” he added, as he got to his feet.

The match between McTeague and Marcus promised to be interesting.  The dentist, of course, had an enormous advantage in point of strength, but Marcus prided himself on his wrestling, and knew something about strangle-holds and half-Nelsons.  The men drew back to allow them a free space as they faced each other, while Trina and the other women rose to their feet in their excitement.

“I bet Mac will throw him, all the same,” said Trina.

“All ready!” cried Ryer.

The dentist and Marcus stepped forward, eyeing each other cautiously.  They circled around the impromptu ring.  Marcus watching eagerly for an opening.  He ground his teeth, telling himself he would throw McTeague if it killed him.  Ah, he’d show him now.  Suddenly the two men caught at each other; Marcus went to his knees.  The dentist threw his vast bulk on his adversary’s shoulders and, thrusting a huge palm against his face, pushed him backwards and downwards.  It was out of the question to resist that enormous strength.  Marcus wrenched himself over and fell face downward on the ground.

McTeague rose on the instant with a great laugh of exultation.

“You’re down!” he exclaimed.

Marcus leaped to his feet.

“Down nothing,” he vociferated, with clenched fists.  “Down nothing, by damn!  You got to throw me so’s my shoulders touch.”