Then the man did the very thing Frank had hoped to lead him into. He rushed once more.
The youth halted and met that rush. Cunningham struck a ponderous blow, but the Yale youth’s head went to the left and the hairy fist shot over his shoulder. Frank’s left fist landed on the man’s ribs. Had Cunningham been stripped it would have proved a much more effective blow, but as it was his ribs seemed to crack.
“Oh!” grunted the watching men.
Cunningham stood stock-still, an expression of pain on his face. Frank had gone under his arm and whirled, and he struck again, hitting his opponent in the back of the neck, almost at the base.
With outstretched arms, the ruffian staggered forward and was caught in the arms of one of his friends.
“That was an awful one, Jack!” gasped this man. “Better let us fix him!”
“Keep off!” cried the giant once more. “Jack Cunningham can’t have it said he was licked by a kid!”
Frank was waiting when he turned. For a moment Merry fancied the ruffian thought of drawing a weapon, but it is possible that Cunningham’s pride kept him from being forced to use a knife in order to do up an unarmed lad.
“Yo’re the devil!” snarled the man; “but I’ll finish yo’ yet!”
Indeed, he recuperated quickly, soon being ready to resume the fight.