The strain was telling on him.
Ned felt, if he could only hold out a little longer, that he would lay his opponent low.
But could he last?
The contest now was simply a matter of brute endurance plus skill, and in the latter quality Ned felt that Kennell, in his Oriental way, possessed the advantage.
Suddenly Ned found himself with a grip on both of Kennell's arms at once.
A flood of joy rushed through his veins. He felt certain that few men could resist the pressure he could now exert with his mighty forearms and biceps.
"Now where are your jiu-jitsu tricks?" he hissed, as he drew the struggling Kennell nearer and ever nearer with the same resistless force as is exerted by the return plunge of a piston.
Kennell, his face white, with an ashy tinge about the corners of his mouth, said nothing, but fought with every ounce of strength within him against the steady pressure that was drawing him closer and closer into Ned's crushing embrace.
As Ned had said, "Where were his jiu-jitsu tricks now?"