“You’re jealous, and I don’t blame you,” said Jim. “If I lived in Kansas I’d never acknowledge it. It was the last place created, and made out of mighty poor material. Everybody in Kansas worth knowing has moved out.” “Which is a genuine Irish bull,” said Morgan. “All aboard,” called the conductor. A few moments later the train pulled out. In the meantime, Mat Madison had recovered and regained his feet. The result of his attack on Merriwell had astonished him no less than it did his followers. Even after recovering from the shock he could not understand just what had happened to him, although he realized that, in some manner, he had been sent spinning through the air. It had dazed him. After regaining his feet he asked one of the young toughs what had happened. “Why,” was the answer, “he just grabbed you and throwed you, that’s all.” “Oh, he throwed me, did he?” growled Madison, a vicious look on his face. “Well, I ruther think I’ll throw him next time. He’ll git all that’s coming now!” “That’s right, Mad!” encouraged his followers. “You didn’t hit him because he dodged. Go for him again. Grab him this time before he can grab you.” “Just watch me,” advised the thug, as he sprang to the platform. Without warning, Madison came quickly up behind Merry, throwing his arms round Frank, in this manner pinning the arms of the latter to his sides. “Now I’ve got ye, burn your hide!” snarled the ruffian. “You worked a slick trick on me t’other time, but you can’t do it aga——” He did not finish; Frank gave him no further time for speech. Down Merry dropped to one knee, causing the man’s arms to slip up about his neck. Before Madison could get a strangle hold, even as he dropped to his knee, Frank caught the ruffian’s right hand and twisted it outward, bringing the palm upward. With his other hand Frank secured a hold on Madison’s wrist, and then he jerked downward, bending far forward. Mat Madison’s feet left the ground, his heels flew through the air and he went turning over Merry’s head, landing flat on his back in front of the undisturbed young man. The town toughs, who had fancied their leader had the stranger foul, were even more astonished than by Madison’s first failure. Merriwell rose to his feet, stood with his hands on his hips and regarded his fallen assailant with a pitying smile. Frank’s friends—the most of them—seemed amused over the affair, and either smiled broadly or laughed outright. Hodge and Morgan were the only ones who betrayed no mirth. “Jee-roo-sa-lum!” cried one of the tough youngsters. “Did you see that, fellers?” “How did he do it?” gasped another. “Why, he throws Mad just as e-e-easy!” “He’s a slippery chap!” “Slippery! He’s quicker’n lightnin’!” “Strong as a bull!” “Full of slick tricks!”