my training," retorted Jack
Benson, insulted and stung past his power to endure.

Yet Captain Jack did not attempt to follow up that first blow. Throwing
himself into the attitude of defense, he waited.

Don Melville did not keep him long waiting, but rushed at the shorter
youth, intent on sending him to earth.

"Hit him like a gentleman, Don!" called his father.

Whatever way that might be, Don Melville struck out, his blood at the
white heat of rage. With such force did he aim the blow that, when
nimble Captain Jack failed to be in the way to stop it, Don pitched
forward, falling to his knees.

"Hooray!" yelled some of the on looking boys, derisively.

Jack halted before his foe, smiling at him quietly.

"Know any more stunning tricks like that one?" Benson inquired.

"I'll show you!" panted Don, leaping up. As he did so, he caught sight
of the smiling faces of Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, strolling up from
the boatyard gateway.

As he faced the smiling submarine boy, young Melville was quick to
realize that he must cool down if he did not want to become a laughing
stock for the street crowd that was swiftly forming. Half a dozen
workmen employed in the yard had climbed up onto the fence.

"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