"I won't; I'll thrash you!" hissed Phin.
There was nothing for Dick to do but put up his guard, which he did with great promptness. Drayne danced around him, seeking a good point at which to close in.
Prescott had no notion of fighting; neither did he propose to take an assault meekly.
"Look out!" yelled Drayne, suddenly rushing in.
"Certainly," mocked Prescott coolly.
He shot up Phin's arm as easily as could have been desired. With his right he parried another blow.
"Get out of this, and go about your business," advised Dick sternly.
"Think I'll take any orders from you?" snarled Phin. "I'll——-"
He continued to crowd in, hammering blows. Dick parried, but did not attempt to retaliate. The truth was, he felt secretly sorry for the fellow who had fallen as low as Phin.
But Drayne was no coward physically, when his blood was up. It drove him to fever heat, now, to see how easily the captain of the football team repulsed him.