He realized his danger in an instant and acted promptly. With a shout he sprang forward, and seized the upraised arm with his right hand. He twisted it fiercely, and the Nicaraguan gave a cry of pain as he released his hold on the knife and stepped back.
As he did so, Dick drove his right fist into his face, and General Orizaba tumbled to the ground, where he lay still.
At the same moment there was a cheer from close at hand and, turning, Dick saw a dozen marines who had gathered about to watch the contest. Shirley came forward anxiously.
“Are you hurt Dick?” she asked.
“Not much, I guess,” was the reply. “He winged me with the last shot, but I am sure it is nothing serious.”
“He’s all right,” shouted one of the marines, as they gathered about him and congratulated him upon his fight.
Shirley turned on them angrily.
“And you stood off and left him to be killed,” she exclaimed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Oh, we know he could handle that fellow,” was the response, but the men looked at one another somewhat sheepishly.
Their reason for not interfering was perfectly apparent. They had enjoyed the spectacle of Dick and Orizaba locked in combat, and had felt morally certain Dick would come out on top.