"Hit him! Well, I should guess yes. They cracked him eight or ten times over the head and shoulders."
"Somebody said it didn't have any effect on him," observed "Uncle" Blossom, who was chewing gum as if his life depended on it.
"Not a bit more than it would if they had hammered a block of wood," declared Halliday. "It made me sick the first time they cracked him on the head, and it sounded exactly as if they struck a piece of hard wood. I expected it would lay him out stiff."
"But he kept on his feet?"
"He never staggered! Cut his scalp open in three places, and he bled frightfully, but that only seemed to make him worse."
"Very interesting," commented Frank, his eyes sparkling. "It would be an honor to subdue such a fellow as that."
"Honor?" cried Halliday and Griswold. "It would be a miracle!"
"If he lives, he'll become a prize fighter," said Blossom. "He has their brutal instincts, and still he seems to have some brains."
"That's what makes him such a bad man—his brains," cried Halliday. "He fights with his head, as well as with his hands."
"I must say, you interest me greatly in this freshman," said Merriwell. "What did you call his name—Mason?"