“You bub-bub-bub-bet your life!” chattered Jolliby.
The fellow recovered in a twinkling and sprang to his feet. Dick was waiting, and they went at it again with still greater fury. Round and round they circled, their feet sounding thuddingly on the solid ground.
The spectators grew more and more excited. Buckhart was in a perfect fever.
“Put your brand on him! Put your brand on him!” palpitated the Texan.
“Don’t hit him!” entreated Smart. “It would be a shame to hit him!”
“Keep him going, old man!” urged Fraser. “He’s up against the real thing to-night.”
The fight was so fast and furious that it kept every spectator on edge. Once or twice the circle was forced to fall back swiftly to get away from the struggling lads. Several times Dick’s antagonist sought without success to close with him, but seemed at last to accomplish his object.
“Down with him!” hissed Fraser.
But it was not Dick who went down. He managed to twist his opponent over his hip and throw him heavily. Immediately he rose to his feet and waited for the other to get up.
“Why didn’t you soak him when you had him?” asked Brad.