"But I am a better man than he is at most anything else," thought the fellow.
Smack! smack! smack!
Merriwell was following Bascomb up like a tiger, and the big fellow was forced to give ground. Again and again Frank hammered the desperate plebe, getting few blows in return and seeming to mind none of them no more than drops of rain.
Bascomb's face wore the look of an enraged bull. Suddenly, with a quick side motion, he snapped off the glove on his left hand.
Then, with his bare first, he struck straight and hard at Frank Merriwell's face!
CHAPTER XVIII.
RAINS' CHALLENGE.
Bascomb's movement had been noted by the spectators, and a cry of astonishment and warning broke from many lips.
"Look out!" shouted Bart Hodge.