“Whatever kind of fighting does yer call this?” he shouted, in a rage. “Why don’t yer stand up like a man and fight? Is that all yer can do? Does yer know nothing else but jest ter dodge?”
“You’re too easy,” declared Frank. “I hate to hurt you—really I do. It seems a shame.”
“Yah!” shouted the infuriated man. “You would hurt nobody if yer hit um.”
“I beg you to pause a moment, Daniel,” put in Wiley. “Have you made your will? If not, I entreat you to do so. If he ever hits you—oh, luddy, luddy! you’ll think you’ve been kicked by a can of dynamite.”
The ruffian’s companions had been astonished by the ease with which Merriwell escaped Dan’s blows; but they, too, believed the fight would quickly end if Merry stood up and met his enemy.
Spotted Dan slyly edged around Frank, seeking to force him into a corner. Apparently without suspecting the fellow’s object, Merry permitted himself to be driven back just as Dan seemed to desire. Getting the young mine owner cornered, as he thought, the bruiser quickly advanced, seeking now to seize him with one hand, while the other hand was drawn back and clinched, ready for another terrible blow.
With a snapping movement, Frank clutched the wrist of Dan’s outstretched arm. There was a sudden twist and a whirl, and although the ruffian struck with all his force, he felt his shoulder wrenched in the socket and knew he had missed even as he delivered the blow. That twisting movement turned the fellow about and brought his arm up behind him on his back. Then Merry sent him forward with a well-directed and vigorous kick.
“It is too easy!” sighed Cap’n Wiley, sadly shaking his head. “It isn’t even interesting. I fancied possibly there might be some excitement in the affair, but I am growing sleepy, and I fear I shall miss the finish while I take a nap.”
Spotted Dan was astonished now. Never had he encountered any one who fought in such a singular manner, and he could not understand it. Just when he felt certain that he had the youth where he wanted him, Merry would thwart his design and trip him, or, with the utmost ease, send him staggering.
“Dern yer! What makes yer fight with yer feet?” rasped the ruffian. “That ain’t no way whatever ter fight. Fight with yer fists on the squar, and I will annihilate yer.”