It really seemed as if Bar Vernon had hardly made an effort, until, as Hy Allen struggled to his feet, there was a sudden bound forward, a cracking “spat” as if something hard hit something else pretty hard, and the redoubtable Hiram was down again.
Poor Zeb, too, had just such another experience with his own antagonist, and it is greatly to be feared that Val Manning made things about even for that “last term’s licking.”
“You’ll all be perfectly safe,” remarked Bar, “if you’ll only lie still when you’re down.”
“What’s this? What does all this mean?” suddenly exclaimed an excited voice behind him, and Bar turned to find himself in no less a presence than that of the Rev. Dr. Solomon Dryer.
“What does this mean, sir?” again demanded the Doctor, and Zebedee Fuller remarked to himself:
“Not a single long word! That looks very bad.”
But Bar Vernon calmly and politely touched his hat, saying:
“Lessons in boxing, Dr. Dryer. Are they contrary to the rules of the Academy?”
“He’s a trump, anyway!” said Zeb to himself. “I couldn’t have beat that.”
“Boxing lessons?” said the Doctor, incredulously. “What are those boys doing on the grass?”