flying tackle as he so often had done on the football field at Harrington Hall Military Academy. The old Chinaman started to move backward, waving his dagger.
Frank swung the lacquered stool upon which he had been seated aloft and sent it hurtling through the air. His aim was deadly. The heavy stool caught the Chinaman square on the side of the head, just as Jack pinned him around the knees.
He went down like a log, his dagger clattering to the floor.
[CHAPTER VIII—CHINATOWN WINS]
The old Chinaman, whose name they came later to know as Wong Ho and who was a very evil man with many ruffians at his command, was unconscious but breathing heavily. When Frank ascertained that, their fears that they had killed him passed away. While Jack attended to tying him up, Frank turned his attention to Bob and “Black George.”
Mr. Temple was out of the fight. He had recovered from his amazement and dashed in to help his son with more valor than discretion. “Black George,” threshing about wildly in the endeavor to break Bob’s grip on his throat, had lashed out with his feet. A tremendous kick had caught Mr. Temple in the stomach and sent him reeling and gasping to the floor, where he was very sick, indeed.
Like a bulldog, Bob held on. Yet in “Black George” he had an opponent worthy of his mettle. That underworld leader had not gained his supremacy
by his wits alone. He was a tremendous rough-and-tumble fighter.
Back and forth they threshed on the floor as Frank paused above them, uncertain where to strike to aid his comrade. Bob still gripped “Black George” about the throat, but the gangster had so powerful a grasp on his hands that he was unable to bring a fatal pressure to bear.
Suddenly, and by an almost superhuman effort, “Black George” heaved himself up to his feet with Bob clinging to him. He must not be allowed to win. Frank swung aloft another lacquered stool, remembering the execution wrought previously on Wong Ho by the same method, and brought it down on “Black George’s” head.