Frank extended his hand in the customary greeting but Rabig refused to take it. There was a stir in the audience.
"Looks like a grudge fight," remarked one, with quickened interest.
"It does on Rabig's part," assented his neighbor. "But if it comes to that I'm betting on Sheldon to trim him."
The boxers sparred for a moment, Frank cool and smiling, Rabig surly and furious. Then Frank found an opening and landed a deft uppercut that shook Rabig from head to foot.
He rushed at Frank like a mad bull but Frank cleverly side-stepped and countered with a left to the ear. Of the two Rabig was the heavier and in Camport had won a reputation as a rough and tumble fighter.
Stung by Frank's cleverly planted blows, he threw what little science he had to the winds and the next minute the two were at it, hammer and tongs.
"I'll do you!" Rabig panted, as he slugged right and left, vainly endeavoring to get through Frank's guard.
"Go as far as you like," retorted the latter, emphasizing the retort with a left jab that nearly lifted Rabig off his feet.
The bell that announced the end of the round found Rabig winded by his furious endeavors. But Frank, though breathing a little heavily, was serene and confident, as he returned to his corner.
"I told you he was in dead earnest," said Bart, as his principal sat down on his stool for a minute's rest. "Look out for fouls, Frank. He'll do anything to down you."