"It was careless of Merriwell to give the fellow such a hold!" thought Jack. "Flemming is sure to be the victor this time!" There was a look of intense satisfaction on Fred Flemming's face as he made firm his clasp about Merriwell's back. And then, just as Flemming was ready to give a bear-like hug, something happened. Frank's right arm was bent so that his forearm came directly under Fred's chin, while his left arm was clasped across Fred's shoulders behind his back. Merriwell gave a sudden surge, drawing Flemming close with his left arm, and thrusting back the fellow's head by pressing his right arm under his enemy's chin. In the twinkling of an eye Flemming's wind was shut off, and his neck seemed to crack beneath the strain. He made a mad effort to hurl Merriwell to the ground, but he had delayed the attempt a moment too long. Frank Merriwell well knew how dangerous was the trick he had played upon his enemy. He knew that he could break Flemming's neck in that manner if he desired to do so, and he was careful not to make the sudden pressure too intense. Flemming could not breathe, and his eyes started from his head. His strength seemed to leave his body, and his struggles to throw the lad he hated were weak and ineffectual. He was like a child in the hands of Frank Merriwell. The spectators stared in astonishment, and Diamond gasped: "Great Caesar! Merry purposely let Flemming get that hold!" "Break away, Flem--break away!" cried Tom Thornton, quivering with excitement. But Flemming could not break away, for he had not sufficient strength to do so. "Foul!" shouted Emery, starting forward, as if he would part the combatants. In a moment Jack Diamond's arm was extended and pressed across Emery's breast, holding him back like a bar of iron. "There is no foul in this match!" came exultantly from the lips of the Virginian. "That was stated at the beginning." Flemming made one last feeble struggle, and then the two lads went down together, with Fred under. They fell heavily, and Merriwell came down on his enemy with his full weight. A moment later Frank arose. On the turf Fred Flemming lay white and still, his eyes closed. "Bring some water," calmly directed the victor. "I think Mr. Flemming has been stunned." "This fall settles the match," decided Hugh Heffiner. "Frank Merriwell has won by throwing Flemming two times in succession. Permit me to congratulate you, Mr. Merriwell, for it is apparent that you are as expert in the art of wrestling as you have proved yourself to be in the other things you have attempted." "Thank you," said Frank, simply, as he accepted Heffiner's hand. Jack Diamond whispered in Tom Thornton's ear: "It is your turn next!" Diamond called on Merriwell that evening.