He knew how to turn the rush of the American into a disastrous fall. He knew how to prod with his bony knuckle the angry man's solar plexus--how to step swiftly aside and bring the horny edge of his hand against sensitive vertebrae. He could seize Orme by the arm and, dropping backward to the ground, land Orme where he wished him. Yes, Arima had every reason to feel confident. Many a time had he got the better of American fist-fighters. But a system of offense and defense which is based upon the turning of an opponent's strength against himself absolutely depends for its success upon an accurate estimate of the opponent's intentions. A sudden shift of physical purpose may put your jiu-jitsu adept at a loss. Arima, from his knowledge of American fighting methods, had reason to think that Orme would continue his charge and strike out with his fists when he came near enough. That, however, is something that Orme did not do. For, in his two previous encounters with the Japanese, he had learned much. He had learned, among other things, the value of the unexpected. And though his anger was almost blinding, he cooled, during those few short strides, to his usual caution. Within two paces of Arima, he stopped short. For one tense moment Orme opened his senses to all impressions. He could hear, with almost painful distinctness, the moans of the two men he had stunned and the rustling sounds made by their writhings. He caught a glimpse of the girl. The searchlight of one of the cars struck full on the side of her face, and drew there a distinct shadow of the network of her disarranged hair. He saw the strained, excited look in her eyes. Her captor still held her arm. He was watching Orme and Arima indifferently, as though quite confident of Japanese skill. All this Orme observed in an instant. Then his eyes were again on Arima. He knew that he would have to attack. To await the trick holds of the Japanese would be to invite defeat. But if he attacked, he must use an unexpected method. Suddenly he raised his left arm above his head and clenched his fist. His right arm remained by his side. A step forward. The upraised arm descended. Swiftly Arima reached upward to seize it. But even as the one arm descended, Orme swung his other, with terrific force, up from the waist, and caught Arima on the mouth. The blow missed the chin, but it was hard enough to fell any man of ordinary strength. Arima staggered back, past the girl, and brought up against the side of one of the cars. But with hardly an instant for recovery, he leaped forward again and the man who was holding the girl also sprang at Orme. It would be folly to meet the two. Orme turned and ran quickly in among the trees of the little grove. The darkness was his friend, for the pursuers halted in their quick run and separated, proceeding more cautiously. As for Orme, once in shelter, he stopped for breath.