The robber struck at him, and Nick parried the blow with the gun, leaping in with the quickness of a cat and gripping Clancy about the waist.
From that moment the fight was lost to Clancy.
The Little Giant’s phenomenal strength quickly made itself felt.
He contracted his arms, the awful, viselike pressure slowly but surely driving the breath from the robber’s lungs.
Clancy began to gasp, his eyes distended, and the bar fell from his nerveless hand.
“Stop!” he whispered; “you’re killing me!”
Nick bore him into the blacksmith shop and hurled him to the ground.
Clancy struggled to avoid the handcuffs, and Nick, forcing his arms around the anvil, made the wrists fast.
“Now,” said the detective, “you can struggle all you please.”