Down Merry dropped to one knee, causing the man’s arms to slip up about his neck. Before Madison could get a strangle hold, even as he dropped to his knee, Frank caught the ruffian’s right hand and twisted it outward, bringing the palm upward. With his other hand Frank secured a hold on Madison’s wrist, and then he jerked downward, bending far forward.
Mat Madison’s feet left the ground, his heels flew through the air and he went turning over Merry’s head, landing flat on his back in front of the undisturbed young man.
The town toughs, who had fancied their leader had the stranger foul, were even more astonished than by Madison’s first failure.
Merriwell rose to his feet, stood with his hands on his hips and regarded his fallen assailant with a pitying smile.
Frank’s friends—the most of them—seemed amused over the affair, and either smiled broadly or laughed outright. Hodge and Morgan were the only ones who betrayed no mirth.
“Jee-roo-sa-lum!” cried one of the tough youngsters. “Did you see that, fellers?”
“How did he do it?” gasped another.
“Why, he throws Mad just as e-e-easy!”
“He’s a slippery chap!”
“Slippery! He’s quicker’n lightnin’!”