“Why don’t yer stand up and spar right?” he demanded, at last. “Be you trying to wind me? Is that your game? Well, I guess I can stand it as long as you can. I’ll git at yer before I’m done.”
“That’s the talk, my boy!” cried old John. “When you do git at him jest let him know it.”
“Oh, he’ll know it, all right,” grinned the Maplewood boy.
Then, to his surprise, Dick suddenly came in on him, feinted with his right, jabbed quick with his left, and got away.
The blow had landed on Cole’s chin, knocking his teeth together and setting his head back.
“Too bad! too bad!” sobbed Smart. “I hate to see it!”
“Don’t let him hit yer that way!” shouted old John, in angered astonishment.
“He done it when I wasn’t watching,” asserted Jack. “He can’t do it again.”
Barely had he made this statement when Dick once more sprang forward, dodged to one side, ducked and avoided Cole’s blow, ending by smashing the Maplewood lad full and hard in the short ribs. He was away like a flash, and had not been touched.
Now Jack Cole was aroused in earnest. He followed Merriwell up and struck two or three blows, which would have been decidedly effective had they landed. They were either dodged or parried by Dick.