Billy Mac did not seem at all disturbed over the prospect. He waited the rush quietly, and, as the big fellow drove in another blow, Billy caught the arm. He turned, jerked the other’s wrist over his shoulder, and Bully flew over him into the dust. This brought a shout of applause from the spectators.
It was a simple jujutsu trick. Billy Mac had not learned it very adroitly, but he had learned it well enough to spill his adversary head over heels. Bully was unhurt, and was up instantly, brushing at his gay attire.
“Got some luck, ain’t you!” he sneered furiously.
“Better not try my luck again,” said Billy Mac, with a laugh.
Chub Newton let out a shrill yell.
“L-l-look at the l-l-loud guy now! Yah! Why don’t you cl-l-laim you stubbed your toe, Bul-l-ly Carson?”
Merriwell started. Could it be possible that this fellow was the son of Colonel Carson, of whom Billy Mac had spoken—the baseball player? Yes, he placed the chap now. The features and voice were not unlike those of Colonel Carson.
However, he had no time to conjecture further. Bully went at Billy Mac with a second rush, this time exercising more caution. McQuade had to depend entirely on his quickness, and proved that it was quite dependable.
He slipped aside, raising a cloud of dust as he did so, and tried to trip his opponent. Bully staggered and lost his balance, and, as his arm flew out wide, Billy Mac stepped in and his fist went out.
Again there came a sharp crack as the blow landed. The big fellow, struck fairly on the angle of the jaw below the ear, shivered, and then went reeling across the street. He pulled up at the fence, clinging to it desperately.