“Not by a jugful!” roared old John. “Git ter going there, Jack!”
Seeming to recover in a moment, Cole accepted this advice, and again pitched into Dick.
During the next few moments the boxing was so swift that the eye followed the blows with difficulty. Once Dick was struck, but he recovered quickly, and a moment later delivered a blow that started the blood from his opponent’s nose.
Cole did not mind a little blood. In fact, it seemed to make a fury of him, and he launched himself at Dick, striking right and left with sledge-hammer force.
“We ought to stop it, gentlemen—we ought to stop it!” palpitated Eustace Smiley.
“It will be all over in a minute,” declared Buckhart. “Don’t worry about it.”
He was right, for Dick found his opening and gave Cole a solar-plexus blow that again stopped the fellow short. Then Merriwell swung on Jack’s jaw and the boy went “down and out.”
Old John could scarcely believe the evidence of his eyes. As he stooped over his son, he continued urging him to get up and resume the fighting.
Jack tried to rise, but his strength was gone, and everything seemed to swing about him.
“Git up, boy—git up!” snarled old John. “You can do him yit!”