No cry of pain escaped the vicious little man, but his hold was broken in a twinkling and Frank was free.
Merry knew now what had been attempted. The mere warning had not fully proved to him the dastardly purpose of his enemy; but now there was no doubt about it. He laughed aloud.
“Now the Japanese whelp gets his medicine!” grated Bart Hodge.
He had heard Merriwell laugh like that before, and he knew what usually followed.
Frank seized his opponent and lifted him from the floor, giving him a fling that sent him clear of the mat and slam against the nearest wall.
One thing practiced by the Japanese is the art of falling. Hashi was jarred, of course, when he collided with the wall, but he fell to the floor and sat up smiling in his usual bland manner.
That smile, however, was the mask which concealed the intense rage and chagrin which he felt. He knew now that the American was well up in the art of Japanese self-defense, besides being master of the American style of wrestling.
Hashi felt that he would be disgraced if he permitted Frank to defeat him. Besides, he would not earn the five hundred dollars.
But the disappointment of the Jap was not equal to that of Fred Fillmore.