Round to the right both men worked, sparring gently. Then they closed a little, and the work became swifter and more exciting. Merry feinted and sought an opening, but Hawkins guarded cleverly. Then the scar-faced youth came in like a flash, making a deceptive move with his right and getting in a body-blow with his left. He danced away before Frank could counter, and the first point belonged to Hawkins.
Packard breathed again. But his satisfaction was short, for Merry followed Hawkins closely, giving him no time to recover. The work became swifter and more savage, and Hawkins struck, reaching Frank’s cheek lightly.
That blow was disastrous to the scar-faced youth, however, for Merriwell countered with such terrible force that Hawkins was knocked prostrate on the mat.
“First down for Merriwell!” laughed Jack Ready. “Now we are getting right down to business!”
“You’ve reached him twice to his once, Hawkins!” cried Packard, his excitement making it impossible for him to keep still. “That shows you can do the trick. Up and at him!”
Already Hawkins was up, and quickly he went at Frank. Then the spectators saw some work that thrilled them. The play of fists was astonishingly swift, while those two young athletes leaped and danced about each other. Now they closed in, now one retreated, now the other fell back; but never was there a moment of rest until one of them found the opening he sought and again a heavy blow was struck.
Again it was Hawkins who dropped, but he came up like a flash, his scarred face contorted into an almost fiendish expression. The rage of the fighter was on him now, and he longed to tear Merriwell into strips.
“My, my!” said Jack Ready. “This is perfectly awful!”
But he was hugging himself and grinning with a look of intense delight.
“On, on!” panted Packard. “At him again, Hawkins! He can’t stand before that long!”