"You talk big for a kid. Why, I can blow yer over with my breath."
"It is strong enough. But I don't go over so easy. Up with your hands if you are such a fighter! I'm coming for you!"
"All right! If ye're bound to have it, come on!"
The man put up his guard, and then Merriwell went at him, while Grody gasped for breath, thinking the college lad could be no match for the young ruffian.
There were a few swift passes, and then Frank went under the fellow's guard and gave him a terrific
uppercut on the chin. That was a staggerer, and the boy followed it up while the man was dazed.
Punk!—biff!—two blows, one on the body and the other fairly in the eye.
The second blow nearly knocked the man down, and it made him as fierce as a famished tiger. Snarling like an enraged beast, he tried to close in on the lively lad.
"Oh, let me get hold of you!" he grated. "I'll crush the life out of ye!"
Frank avoided the rush by stepping aside, and gave the fellow another body blow as he passed.