to be to a finish. The rounds will
last two minutes each, with a minute's rest between. Queensbury
rules will be followed as far as they can be made to apply. This
being a bare-knuckle fight for a matter of principle, the
combatants will not shake hands."

There was an impressive pause, the referee turning to look at each
fighter in turn.

Spurlock stood at ease, his arms folded over his chest, a grin on his
face.

Plebe Prescott looked less confident. He stood with his fists
clenched at his sides.

"Time!" called Mr. Edwards.

Spurlock unfolded his arms, throwing them in an attitude of
semi-defense, as he coolly looked his opponent over.

Dick Prescott, on the other hand, threw his left foot forward,
planting it firmly though lightly. His left arm raked outward, while
his right fist came to a guard over his heart region.

"I suppose I've got to start this, as well as end it," jeered Mr.
Spurlock. He made a sudden leap forward, throwing his offense
low. Dick's left shot out to counter. Then Spurlock drove in, but
Prescott got away by nimble dodging. Each man had now turned;
the seconds jumped nimbly around, the referee following, while
Jennison, his gaze mostly on the watch, jumped nimbly into a
corner that he judged would not be used by the fighters.

"This isn't a sprint," sneered Spurlock, as he followed nimble Plebe
Prescott around, Dick doing some saving dodging, ducking and
sidestepping.

Nearly a dozen of Spurlock's blows Prescott succeeded in
escaping, though the plebe was kept so busily on the defensive that
he could not get back with anything to count.

"Stand up, you jumping-jack!" hissed Spurlock.

He did get in a short-arm jab on Dick's right lower ribs that made
the plebe gasp audibly.

Spurlock now started in to take advantage of this by getting the
plebe going. Dick, however, dodged less and countered better. He
took two nasty blows, then Mr. Jennison called.

"Time!"

"You're standing him off a heap better than I thought you could,"
whispered Anstey, as he and Greg sponged the plebe fighter off
quickly and then began to knead his muscles. While this was still
going on the referee again summoned the fighters forward.

The second round started. As before, Prescott kept mainly on the
defensive, though always watching his chance to come back at his
more powerful opponent. Spurlock began to press his man hard,
when, of a sudden, Prescott got in low under the other's guard,
came up and