"Mind you," said Jack, coolly, "I don't want to hurt you. You started this, Melville."
The sheer coolness of this speech once more carried Don Melville out of the bounds of reason. On the "gym" floor Don had studied the art of boxing well, but he had not learned all he needed to know about coolness.
"You young hound!" he snapped.
"You said something like that before," Jack laughed. "Is that all you can do? I feel as though I were wasting my time."
"Do you?" mocked Don. "Take that, then!"
This time he leaped forward, feinting with his left hand. But Jack was not to be caught like that. Instead, he parried against the real blow delivered with Don's right fist. The force of the parry threw Don to his left. Just at that instant Benson passed behind his opponent, landing a stinging blow on the other's neck. Down flat to the ground went the Melville heir, hitting his nose roughly and starting the blood.
"Hooray!" yelled a gleeful boy in the throng. "Say, ain't he fine at jiu-jitsu, though?"
A yell of great joy went up from some of the boys, who are always delighted at seeing the larger fellow thrashed, especially when he is the one who has started the trouble.
"Don't you think you'd better wait and cool down?" inquired Jack, dryly.
"You're only making a show of yourself."
That taunt stung Don into rising and squaring off, while his father looked unutterably disgusted and angry over the ridiculous turn affairs had taken.