The foils met with a steely, hissing sound.
“Here’s where a rolling deadwood doesn’t spoil the match,” observed Buckhart.
Chester entered into the bout in earnest, forcing the attack from the start. His movements were quick, and he was catlike on his feet. Repeatedly he lunged and recovered in time to prevent a counter.
Dick watched Arlington’s style and movements closely, seeking to discover his capabilities.
“Why, Chester is playing with him!” declared Fraser. “He is keeping him busy, too.”
“Juj-juj-juj-just you wait a bit,” stuttered Jolliby. “Merriwell hasn’t bub-bub-bub-begun yet.”
A dozen times, in scarcely more than as many seconds, Chester sought to counter on his adversary, and a dozen times he was foiled by a simple movement of Dick’s wrist. At last, like a flash of lightning, Merriwell lunged, and the button of his foil counted in quarte.
Arlington’s backward spring was made too late to avoid this. He lighted on the balls of his feet and came forward in a twinkling, seeking to catch Dick off guard after that thrust.
Once more Chester’s effort was foiled by a graceful and easy movement on Merriwell’s part. And again Dick scored, this time in prime.
“Well! well! well!” cried Buckhart. “Didn’t I say so? Didn’t I know it?”