Jack Diamond seldom smiled, but now he did so, and the expression of satisfaction on his face was complete.
"Who said Merriwell was going down?" squealed Danny Griswold, in delight. "Somebody fooled himself that time!"
Thornton bit his lip, muttering some fierce exclamation beneath his breath.
Of them all no person was more astonished than Fred Flemming. He lay dazed and wondering, scarcely able to realize that he was flat on his back and his enemy across his chest.
Frank arose hastily, his face quite calm and expressionless. He did not betray satisfaction or triumph, but his manner indicated that what had happened was
no more than he had fully expected. He had confidence in himself, which any one must have to be successful, but still he was not overconfident, which is a fault quite as much as timidity.
Flemming sat up. He had felt himself lifted from his feet with a twisting movement, and he had felt himself whirled in the air, but still he could not understand how the feat had been accomplished.
Shame caused the hot blood to rush into his face, and he ground his teeth together, his whole body quivering.
"It was an accident—it must have been an accident!" he told himself. "I tried to throw him so heavily that I overreached myself."
The look on Merriwell's face cut him like a keen knife and made him feel a fierce longing for the next tussle.