Brad Buckhart heard some of this talk, and at once he stepped over to the men.
“Don’t you worry any at all about my pard,” he said. “He’s just fooling with that chap now. He hasn’t tried to hit him yet. Dick has touched him a few times just to get him started.”
“There he goes!” again palpitated Smiley. “My gracious! that boy’s quick as a cat on his feet!”
Again Dick had closed in on Cole, struck him several light blows, and escaped without a return.
“He doesn’t seem to have much force in his blows,” observed William Drake. “Apparently he can hit Cole almost at will, but he can’t hurt him.”
“Wait some,” advised Brad. “He hasn’t made up his mind to do any damage yet. He’s enjoying this little racket a whole lot.”
“But while he fools with Cole,” said Duncan, “he is exposing himself to a blow that might put him out. Those are hard gloves, and a good jolt with them will count almost as much as a blow with the bare fist.”
Buckhart remained undisturbed and confident, repeating his assurance that Dick could take care of himself. At length Cole became exasperated at Dick’s success in closing with him and getting away without harm.
“Now you’re doing it, Jack!” shouted his father, as the Maplewood boy followed Merriwell up with a rush and succeeded in landing a spent blow. “Keep him going, son, keep him going!”
Of a sudden young Merriwell stopped and met his antagonist as the fellow came on. Parrying two blows, Dick struck once with a swinging upward movement that actually lifted Cole off his feet and dropped him to the floor.