For a time they were locked, straining terribly, and then the neck of the champion went with a snap and he lay dead in the middle of the green.
The Indians and the French were both so dumfounded that for a moment no one stirred, and Iberville went back and quietly put on his clothes.

But presently cries of rage and mourning came from the Indians, and weapons threatened.

But the chief waved aggression down, and came forward to the dead man.

He looked for a moment, and then as Iberville and De Troyes came near, he gazed at Iberville in wonder, and all at once reached out both hands to him.

Iberville took them and shook them heartily.
There was something uncanny in the sudden death of the champion, and Iberville's achievement had conquered these savages, who, after all, loved such deeds, though at the hand of an enemy.