Then he cast his weight forward and pushed with all his strength upon the great man's breast.
Xavier tottered, recovered himself, tottered again, and strove to shift his leg.

Leonard felt the movement and met it with a supreme effort.
Losing his balance, his foe swayed slowly backwards like a falling tree, then fell with a thud that shook the ground.

It was a gallant throw, and even the "ranks of Tusculum" as represented by the slave-drivers "could scarce forbear to cheer." Now Leonard lay upon the breast of the man, for he was dragged to earth with him.
For a moment his enemy was still, breathing stertorously, for the shock of their fall had been great.

Leonard looked round; there, some eight feet away, was the knife, and he who could grasp it must win this deadly game.

But how could he grasp it?
Xavier, whose strength and powers were coming back, still hugged him in his fearful grip; he also saw the knife, and would win it.