landed a blow on the Spurlock nose that brought the
first blood of the fight.

With an angry growl Spurlock leaped in now, to chase and wind up
his younger opponent.

But Dick did some nimble dodging, devoting his attention largely
to defending his eyes from assault.

Then, in turning, suddenly, Dick let one leg drag an instant behind
him. Spurlock, following like lightning, aimed a blow, but it fell
short, for he tripped over Dick's leg and fell sprawling.

Referee, time-keeper and plebe principals laughed. Spurlock's
seconds scowled.

But Dick generously drew back five or six feet, standing on the
defensive until Mr. Spurlock leaped to his feet, ready to renew the
combat.

Spurlock, however, had hurt one of his knees, in going down, just
enough to interfere with his nimbleness of pursuit during the rest
of the round. Time-keep Jennison soon ended that round.

"Mister," growled Yearling Kramer, turning around while Dick sat
between his seconds being sponged and kneaded, "don't be so
much of a coward! Don't run away and delay the finish. Stand up
as if you had some manhood!"

"Thank you, sir," replied Dick coldly. "I'm managing my end of
this fight."

"You b.j. little poltroon," snarled Kramer. "I'll call you out myself
if you have the nerve to talk back!" hissed Kramer.

"Is licking cowards your specialty?" demanded Prescott coolly.

But that settled it, making a coming fight with Kramer an absolute
necessity, now.

"Mr. Kramer," interrupted Mr. Edwards sternly, "this has gone far
enough. You must stop hectoring that plebe, sir. He has all he can
attend to as it is."

Kramer stopped, with a snap of the jaws. He didn't want to. But a
hint, on a matter of etiquette, or the code, from the first class man,
was as valid as a command. And Mr. Edwards had spoken in a
tone that was authoritative enough.

"You run all you want," whispered Greg indignantly. "You have a
right to. This room is smaller than a Queensbury ring."

"I shan't stop my footwork unless the referee orders it," replied
Prescott, in an under-tone.

"You're doing just right," nodded Anstey. "If you weren't Mr. Edwards
would stop it. He's running this fight on the fair-and-square. If I
have a fight I hope it will be my luck to have Mr. Edwards running the
job."

"How do you feel?" asked Anstey, in an undertone.

"All right," returned Dick. "But I had to trust to footwork to save
myself. Mr. Spurlock got nearly all my wind in that other