“I can’t hit a chap when he is down,” declared Dick.
“Give him the same chance at you and see what he will do!”
“That makes no difference to me.”
The fallen boy rose slowly, but was at Dick in a twinkling as soon as he reached his feet. Apparently he sought to take Merriwell by surprise, rushing unexpectedly and savagely. However, he was the one surprised, for Merriwell’s hard fist struck him a blow that stopped him in his tracks. His hands fell for a moment, and Buckhart palpitated:
“Now! now—put him out!”
Dick might have struck the final blow, but for some reason he held his hand, giving the other time to recover.
After that, Merriwell’s enemy was wary and cautious for several seconds. Dick followed him up and pressed the fight, but was given no good opening for a telling blow.
“Waugh!” growled the Texan. “I certain don’t understand this yere pard of mine any. Here that galoot soaks him on the head and knocks him silly, but he continues to let him have more than an even show in this go.”
“Dick always fuf-fuf-fuf-fights fair,” said Jolliby.
Merriwell’s foe seemed to recover rapidly, for soon he was once more meeting Dick halfway, and the fight seemed fiercer than ever.