“Do you want me to fight you?” asked Rob, without the flicker of an eye.
“Yes, I do,” whipped out Jared boldly.
At the same instant, thinking to catch Rob off his guard, he aimed a vicious blow at the lad in front of him. Rob merely stepped to one side. Jared almost lost his balance as his fist encountered thin air, and just saved himself from taking an ignominious tumble.
“So; you’re a coward, eh?” cried Jared furiously.
“Possibly that’s your opinion,” spoke Rob calmly. “I don’t like fighting, Jared, it’s not gentlemanly and it’s not a Scout principle; but if you want fight, you’re going to get it!”
“Good for you!” cried Merritt, who had stood silent, well knowing Rob’s ability to handle himself, for the Scouts had many friendly sparring bouts with the gloves. The noble art of self-defense was cultivated by all of them, but as a means of self-defense and for the joy of the sport only.
Rob whipped off his coat in a jiffy. Jared, with a slight quiver of his lower lip, did the same. Both boys stood ready to defend themselves, and, while the shouts of the crowd bearing Tubby aloft died away in the distance, the fight, into which Rob had been unwillingly dragged, began.
CHAPTER VIII.
SKILL VS. MUSCLE.
Jared was heavily built and strong, but his science was nothing to boast of. Jared had never had the application to build himself up physically. Yet he was no mean opponent, as Rob saw. The leader of the Eagles was not as heavily muscled or as weighty as Jared, but he more than made up for it in his cat-like quickness and ability to spar.
The farmer’s son saw this and realized that his best opportunity to put a quietus on his hated opponent was to land a heavy blow before Rob’s perfect training had a chance to assert itself. He rushed in wildly, determined to battle his way through Rob’s defense and beat him down by sheer weight and force.