“Do your best with him, old man,” urged Spaulding. “Without doubt I’ll have to,” nodded Frank. Merry knew he was going against “the real thing.” He was not one of the scoffers at jujutsu, although he held that the Japanese art alone was not enough to make a man complete master of other men. Now it happened that for many months Merry had been perfecting his knowledge of jujutsu, which he had first picked up during his trip round the world. In Japan he had learned much of the art, the secrets of which were well guarded at that time. It was this knowledge that had enabled him on many occasions to overcome assailants far heavier and stronger than himself, greatly to their dismay and chagrin. At Yale he had practiced it, although he had not called it jujutsu at that time. Frank was not conceited enough to fancy himself the equal of Hashi in the knowledge of all the Japanese methods; but there was another thing that promised to make Merry the equal of the Jap. Frank was a wonderful wrestler, and a scientific boxer. He had even learned the French method of boxing with his feet. Every muscle in his body was splendidly developed, but his mental development quite equaled his physical. Therefore he would not be confined in his encounter with Hashi to one style or system of offense and defense. He hoped to baffle the Jap by his knowledge of the Japanese acquirements, and to this he added the hope of defeating him by accomplishments of a sort in which Hashi was not proficient. In his heart Fred Fillmore was exulting. “Worked him easy!” he mentally cried. “Hashi will do the job! He’ll swear it was an accident. Instead of making preparations for your wedding to-morrow, Mr. Merriwell, you’ll be resting in Johns Hopkins Hospital with a broken leg.” “How do we reach this gymnasium?” asked one of the party. “I presume we’re all invited to witness this set-to.” “Hashi wants you to come along,” nodded Fillmore. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re all invited,” said Merry. “Call carriages!” cried Spaulding. “Leave it to me, gentlemen. Let me see, how many want to go?” He quickly found out the number and hastened to order carriages for them. A short time later people on the street were surprised to see many carriages collect before the University Club. Those who watched observed a number of chatting, laughing, well-dressed young men leave the club and enter the carriages, which rumbled softly away over the asphalt. “Something doing somewhere,” commented one of the watchers. Frank, Bart, Spaulding, and Harrow were in one of the carriages. “This is a queer affair,” commented Spaulding. “I don’t know what to think about it.” “I do,” declared Hodge. “Eh? You do?” “Yes.” “What do you think?” “It’s some sort of a put-up job.” “You mean——”