“That’ll do,” spoke Ward quietly. He looked at his classmate.
“Time,” called Merton, for North had been attended by his second, while Bill looked after Cap, who was in no way distressed.
“Don’t hurry to finish him,” whispered Bill, as Cap arose from his knee to go forward. “You can do him.”
“I don’t know about that,” was the cautious reply. “He has a strong right, and guards pretty well. I just managed to get in.”
“Don’t let him get you that way again,” advised Mersfeld to his friend. “It’s too risky.”
“I won’t, if I can help it.”
They were at it again, hammer and tongs, giving and taking. Several body blows were exchanged, making both lads grunt, but doing no damage.
Then, when Cap tried for another left to the jaw he either miscalculated, or North guarded quickly, for Cap’s fist came against his opponent’s forearm, and the next minute our hero went down under a well directed blow, that eventually closed his right eye. But he did not mind this, got up quickly and was at it again.
Seeing his advantage in the next round North hammered away at Cap’s optic, thereby not only causing the Smith lad exquisite pain, but greatly hampering him in the fight, for his vision was reduced by half.
“You’ve got him now!” exulted Mersfeld, when the round was over, and he was spraying his man with water from a ginger ale bottle. “Keep at him!”