“Perhaps I’ve been a trifle hasty, Merriwell; but you can’t blame us for feeling it when you and your friend come here and down us so easily. This is supposed to be a club of champions. If you were to defeat us at everything, the papers would make sport of us. As it is, some of the papers have been inclined to poke fun at us and call us a lot of bluffers. We think we’re the real thing; but you’ve taken us off our guard. Were you ever taken off your guard?” “Oh, yes, I fancy so.” “I’ve heard not. Why, I’ve even been told that no man could catch you napping and get the advantage of you. I don’t believe that, you know.” “I presume not.” “No, it’s ridiculous,” said Manton, pretending to turn away and stepping behind Merry. Quick as a flash he clasped Merriwell round the body, pinning his arms at his sides. “There,” he said, “you see how easy it is to prove the falsehood of the statement. I have you foul now.” “Do you think so?” asked Frank. “I know it. You can’t do a thing.” Merry was angry, but he kept a check on his temper. He resolved to teach the fellow a lesson. Instantly he dropped to the ground, coming down on his right knee. At the same instant, Manton’s arms having slipped up round his neck, he seized the man’s right wrist, pressing on a certain muscle in such a manner that it caused a sharp twinge of pain. He pulled forward sharply, turning Manton’s wrist to the right. Thus, in a twinkling the fellow found himself jerked over Frank’s back and losing his balance. As Manton was falling, Merriwell rose sharply to his feet, and the fellow was hurled flying through the air, to fall flat on his back ten or twelve feet away. It was done so swiftly that few saw just how it happened; but all realized that the gentleman pugilist had been tricked and grassed at a moment when he had fancied he was demonstrating the ease with which Merriwell could be taken off his guard. Manton was dazed. He sat up, his face expressing bewilderment, chagrin, and rage. “What—what——” he muttered hoarsely. Then he turned his head and glared at Frank. He saw Merry standing quietly, with his hands on his hips, smiling the least bit. “I trust you are not harmed, sir,” said Frank politely. “As you had secured a grasp on me from the rear, it was necessary to be a trifle violent.” “Good land!” gasped Bert Fuller. Manton rose to his feet. “You tried to break my neck!” he grated, his face livid. “Oh, no,” denied Frank. “Had I tried, you would have a broken neck now, I assure you of that.” The gentleman pugilist felt of his arm and shoulder, which had been severely wrenched. He saw some of the witnesses smiling, while others were regarding him with pity. That was enough to infuriate him beyond restraint. “I’m disgraced if I do not thrash that man!” he thought. “I’ll do it here and now!” Having arrived at this determination, he tore off his coat. CHAPTER VII. THE FIGHT.