Although his opponent had the advantage of him in height and was furious enough to be dangerous, Dick was not troubled with any misgivings as to the result of a clash between them.
He had every confidence in his own powers, for he was compactly built, was unusually strong for his years, and moreover, being very angry, was reckless of the consequences.
Whether it was that Maslin was naturally clever with his fists or Dick was awkward or slow in putting himself into a posture of defence, certain it is Luke’s right arm went through his opponent’s guard and Dick received a stinging blow on the side of his head that staggered him for a moment.
A second whack, this time on the chest, thoroughly aroused Dick and, seeing his chance, he struck out with all the force he was capable of and caught Luke full on the nose.
His head went back with a jerk, he slipped on the grass, and was down in a moment, the blood flowing freely from his injured organ.
Contrary to Dick’s expectations, Luke made no effort to get up and resume the battle.
It began to look as though that one blow had knocked all the fight out of him.
Whatever satisfaction his opponent felt at such a decisive result was dissipated in a moment by an unexpected whack on the ear from behind, and turning to confront this new danger he found himself face to face with Silas Maslin, who was in a towering rage.
“You young rascal, how dare you strike my son!” he exclaimed, furiously.
“He struck me first,” Dick answered doggedly, rubbing his ear, for the slap had been no gentle one.