“Get into it, pard!” growled Buckhart.
“Go for him, Arlington!” cried the companions of Dick’s antagonist. With the bandage showing plainly about his head, Merriwell circled round his enemy, moving to the left. No word came from the lips of the other lad.
There was a moment of sparring, and then Merriwell’s foe closed in swiftly, leading with a blow at Dick’s head.
Dick ducked and tried to counter on the fellow’s body, but was blocked.
“That’s the stuff, Arlington!” shouted Fraser. “Keep him going! Keep after him!”
During the next few moments Dick busied his antagonist to such an extent that the fellow had no chance to keep after him. Indeed, it was with considerable difficulty that he avoided the varied attacks made upon him.
Nevertheless, his defense was so skillful that Merriwell was somewhat astonished.
“Arlington has been taking lessons,” he decided. “This is not his style of fighting.”
Finally Dick received a blow on the shoulder that jarred him slightly, and the enemy sought to follow up the slight advantage thus gained. In doing so, he left an opening that Merriwell improved, and a sudden cry rose from the spectators, for, following the smack of a hard fist, one of the fighters went down.
“It is Arlington, by Jim!” squeaked Tubbs. “Dick soaked him a good one that time!”