Recklessly Tom struck and lighted matches, searching the floor for
that button, stopping after each match burned down to his fingers to
listen to the panting, heaving struggle going on about him.
At last he found the button and pressed it. Light once more flooded
both caves, dazzling to the eye after the pitch darkness of the moment
before. Jack and Frank were still tightly locked with their respective
foemen. But at the very moment the lights were switched on, Bob got
the upper hand of his man with a famous hold he had used to advantage
in winning his wrestling fame at school. There was a heave, and then
Bob straightened up and the other went hurtling through the air. He
was the American of the enemy trio.
The man fell on his left side, a yard or more away, by a quick twist
avoiding the descent on his head, which is the usual result of such a
wrestling toss. His right arm was outflung and, as he skidded along
the floor, the fingers of his right hand came in contact with a
revolver dropped by one of the wrestlers.
Twisting about like a cat, with a convulsive movement, the man came to
his knees and fired. There was a warning shout to Bob from Tom Bodine.
But the man's aim was far from steady, and the shot went wide.
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