!" called Aaron Lloyd. "Flop
him! Jump in an' turn him over!"

"For the honor of the ole Bar Z, Barzy!" whooped Ben Jordan.

"It's yore bout, pard!" cried Bandy Harrison.

Suddenly the two wrestlers rushed at each other. By a quick movement,
Blunt secured a hold which Merry did not fancy, and he slipped out of
his grasp. On the marble whiteness of Merriwell's bare back four livid
streaks showed, and a flick of red oozed from one of them.

"First blood fer Barzy!" howled Harrison. "Ye left the mark of yer
claws on him, pard! Don't let him git away from ye."

Again the two came together, and Blunt once more succeeded in getting
under Merriwell and snapped, him over for a quick "flop." Merry,
however, broke the hold as he went down, twisted to hands and knees, and
bobbed up two feet away and again facing his antagonist.

The cowboys were wildly exultant. They believed that Barzy Blunt was
showing his superiority in these initial moves.

But they were mistaken. Merry was merely trying out his adversary and
calmly studying his weak and his strong points at the game.

Blunt, through lack of proper training, was making the grave mistake of
using all his strength on what might be termed nonessentials. In
wrestling, no more strength should be used than the moment calls for, a
reserve being held for the supreme moment.

When the wrestlers came together for the third time, the time-honored
hold of "one over and one under" was secured, and Merry was satisfied.
From this, after a minute of squirming and twisting, Merry slipped to an
arm-and-neck hold, his left hand about the back of Blunt's neck, right
hand locked in his left elbow. Blunt began to kick.

"Stop that!" Clancy ordered sternly.

"Never mind, Clan," said Merry, "I've got him now."

With a swiftness and ease beautiful to see, Merriwell thrust his left
foot between Blunt's kicking extremities, pushed the left arm farther,
and completely around his neck, clung like a leech to his left elbow,
twisted on his toes, bent his knees, and heaved upward. Blunt was lifted
clear of the ground on Merry's back. It was the old reliable hip lock.
The next instant, Blunt had fallen. Merry was on top and Blunt's
shoulders squarely on the ground.

"First fall for Chip Merriwell," sang out Clancy. "He's a chip of the
old block in more ways than one."

Blunt got up, smiling. It was his old, mirthless smile, and, like a
barometer, announced his rising temper.

The second rou