Bunker turned, snarling like a wounded animal. With a leap he was upon Frank, and he attempted to crush Merriwell down with the fury of his assault.
But he had struck a lad who would not be crushed so easily. Frank met his rush, grappled with him, gave him a wrestler’s trip and hurled the man over his hip.
Bunker shook the cottage when he fell, but he was up again quickly.
“I’ll fix you!” he grated.
Frank laughed outright.
“Come on,” was his invitation. “You don’t seem to be doing very well so far.”
Then they met again, but this time Frank dodged and gave the man a body blow that brought a grunt from his lips.
Bunker was a fighter, and he was not awkward in his movements, although he was astonished by the work of the lad he had expected to knock out so easily. He whirled again, and this time he struck so quickly that Merry was hit a glancing blow on the cheek.
“That’s not so bad,” admitted Frank, cheerfully. “Come again.”
Bunker accepted the invitation, but the blow was parried and returned with interest. Then there was some “in-fighting” that would have set a crowd of spectators wild had it been at a boxing match. Merry was rapped several times before he got in another good one, but he got it in at last.