Ready went at Frank like a flash, striking with bewildering swiftness, and the spectators, who were aroused to a high pitch of excitement, fairly gasped as they saw Merriwell duck, dodge, turn, twist, jump, and avoid those blows, swiftly though they were rained at his unprotected face. Fully half a minute passed of this work before Frank was hit, but hit he was, at last, and a great shout went up.
Frank paused, breathing somewhat heavier than usual, while he smiled and bowed to Jack.
“You did it,” he acknowledged.
“I knew I could!” shouted Ready. “You could not keep that up a whole minute. I don’t understand how you did it as long as you did.”
“And now Merriwell must carry you down-stairs and back!” cried the freshmen mirthfully.
The very idea of a junior carrying a freshman pig-pack was enough to fill them with merriment.
“That is right,” said Frank. “I am beaten, and I must pay the bet.”
He started to put on his coat.
“Better keep it off,” was the advice he received. “You’ll find Ready pretty heavy, and you won’t need your coat.”
“I think I’ll put it on just the same,” said Frank. “I’m perspiring, you know.”