This kind of battle could not last long, for some time one or both of the boys were bound to weaken. Plainly, it was a struggle in which staying power must tell.
In the end Dick’s splendid condition and fine training told. His foe was breathing heavily, although persisting in the same fierce style of fighting.
Several times Dick tried to end the encounter with a telling blow, but the skill of the other chap enabled him to avoid this until his wind began to fail. Finally Merriwell forced his enemy to retreat and kept close after him.
“It’s all over!” half laughed Buckhart, as Dick struck Arlington repeatedly. “There he goes!”
Even as the words were spoken, Dick landed a sledge-hammer blow on the jaw of his antagonist, and Arlington went down like a log.
“I knew it!” declared the Texan.
The fallen chap did not stir.
“Give me a match,” cried Dick. “Quick—give me a match!”
Some one thrust a match into his fingers, and he struck it, protecting the blaze with his hands and throwing the light full on the face of the chap who lay prone on the ground.
“Look!” he cried. “Here’s the Chester Arlington I’ve been fighting!”