“All right,” said Jack. “Now get your men to their corners.”
As the two combatants divested themselves of their coats and vests, and turned up their shirt sleeves to the elbow, it seemed to the spectators that the battle was bound to be one-sided.
Lieutenant Taylor, tall and broad, topped his opponent by several inches. His hands were big and his arms muscular. Beside him Frank looked frail indeed.
However, Frank’s light weight gave him some advantage over the lieutenant, for the latter’s size greatly impeded his activity, while Frank was as quick on his feet as a cat.
At length the combatants stood ready in their corners. Jack advanced to the center of the ring, and called the two to him. Standing between them, he repeated his instructions; then, not asking them to shake hands, he skipped nimbly from between them, and shouted:
“Time!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FIGHT.
The lieutenant came forward with a leap, and aimed a smashing blow at Frank’s head. Retreating swiftly, the lad jerked back his head with a quick move, and the blow fell short by an eyelash. It was a pretty move, and the crowd of spectators acknowledged it with subdued exclamations of delight.
The lieutenant was thrown off his balance by the force of his blow, but Frank did not take advantage of the opening, contenting himself with remaining on guard. He knew that if one of those sledge-hammer blows should land, it would probably end the contest once and for all.
“Dumb luck!” exclaimed the crestfallen lieutenant, as he pressed forward again, “but I’ll get you next time!”