Both sprang at him. Boltwood seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, for he kicked out cleverly and struck Bingham in the pit of the stomach, doubling the big sophomore up instantly. Then he somehow caught hold of Ready, twisted Jack round, grasped him by the neck and the slack of his trousers, and lifted him with a swinging movement clean off his feet.
Up into the air went Ready, struggling and kicking, gasping with astonishment, bewildered and angry. Having swung Jack up thus, Boltwood seized him firmly by the belt, and held him aloft with one hand, high above his head.
“See that!”
Freshmen and sophomores uttered the shout, and it seemed that the fighting lulled for a moment, in order for the astounded men to witness this remarkable feat of strength.
Boltwood laughed!
“Why,” he cried, “I always knew the fellow was a lightweight as far as his brains went; but now I find him a lightweight in every way.”
Down came Ready, being lowered and tossed aside. Bingham had just recovered enough to attempt to come to the rescue of his classmate, but he was too late. Boltwood dropped Jack, caught Bingham by the wrist, gave him a twisting wrench and a trip, and sent him spinning end over end.
As long as he lived Bingham never forgot how he felt just then. It seemed that his arm had been wrenched out of the socket and something had caused the earth to whirl like a top. He came down flat on his back and lay there, while the uproar continued, looking at a calm, white star that he could see through an opening in the trees.
“I didn’t come out here,” muttered Bingham thickly, “to study astronomy.”