Dick Prescott's First Year at West Point Part 16

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

"Is your wind in again?" asked Greg anxiously.

"Yes; I think I feel as fine as my man does," replied d.i.c.k, stepping up from the care of his handlers to await the command.

"Isn't Mr. Kramer the brute?" whispered Anstey indignantly.

"I'm not going to think of him, now," answered Plebe Prescott over his shoulder. "I have all I can attend to at present."

"I'll get him now, Kramer," muttered Spurlock, as he rose. "Watch me reduce that b.j. plebe to powder! I hope they have a spare cot for him over at hospital."

Again the referee set them at it.

Mr. Spurlock encountered a mild surprise, for now d.i.c.k seemed less inclined to trust to his nimble feet. He put up a stand-up front, though several of Spurlock's sledge-hammer blows pa.s.sed over d.i.c.k's falling head.

Then the yearling began to fight lower.

The plebe put up a good series of counters, though he took another bit of punishment in the short ribs, and began to back away.

Across the room, Mr. Spurlock began driving his victim, slowly but systematically.

d.i.c.k retreated, putting up the best guard he could, dodging when he had to.

But the yearling, full of the grim spirit of the thing, pursued without undue haste, driving the plebe, a foot at a time, clean across the room toward the opposite wall.

At last Spurlock had his victim all but leaning against the wall, sorely pressed. Then, with a sudden tensing of his muscles, the yearling let his left drive to "paste" the plebe's head against the hard wall.

CHAPTER X

THE "BEAST" WHO SCORED

SMASH!

But the plebe wasn't there. d.i.c.k Prescott had counted on this, and had wriggled out by a duck and a plunge forward that carried him beyond momentary risk of Mr. Spurlock's following right.

The yearling's left fist landed with such force as to cause a half square yard of plaster to fall with a thud.

With a yell of disgust Spurlock wheeled about, but the plebe was waiting for him.

At just the right instant, d.i.c.k let fly with all his might with his own left.

It caught the yearling over the right eye, closing it.

Just three or four feet back danced Prescott, then came forward again. A blow set the yearling's nose to bleeding afresh.

Then bang! went the other eye closed. The upper cla.s.s men gasped with astonishment, for Spurlock was now getting into bad shape.

He was all but dazed, in fact; and had twenty-five seconds yet to go in the round.

Then, as much in mercy as for anything else, d.i.c.k Prescott dropped his left against the yearling's jawbone.

There was a crash as the dazed man went to the floor.

Instantly Mr. Jennison's voice rose, counting:

"One, two, three, four--"

"Take the full count, Spurdy," advised Kramer, bending forward over his princ.i.p.al.

"--eight, nine, ten!" gasped out the timekeeper.

Mr. Spurlock had shown no sign of rising. In fact, he was still unconscious.

"I award the fight to Mr. Prescott," called the cool, exact tones of Mr. Edward.

Greg could have let out a whoop and danced a war-dance, but in the presence of upper cla.s.s men this plebe had to restrain himself.

Anstey's eyes flashed, but otherwise the Virginian bore himself modestly.

"Carry Mr. Spurlock down to the door. Then summon stretcher-bearers from the hospital," directed Mr. Edwards.

It was Yearling Devine who sprang to obey this direction.

Now d.i.c.k spoke, ever so quietly.

"Mr. Kramer, I understood that you did me the honor to call me out."

"Eh?" muttered that other yearling. "Oh, yes; so I did. Whenever you're ready, mister!"

"If Mr. Edwards and Mr. Jennison are willing," returned the plebe coolly, "I'm ready as soon as Mr. Spurlock has been carried away."

"Oho, mister! B.j. to the end, are you?"

"No, sir; only anxious to atone for my b.j.-ety," replied Cadet Prescott, with a little flash of his eyes.

Anstey had gone below with Devine, to render any help that could be given.

"This is rather unusual, mister," suggested Mr. Edwards, glancing at his watch. "However, if you really feel fit, and if it suits Mr.

Kramer--"

"Oh, anything will suit me," returned the yearling. Truth to tell, Kramer wasn't by any means sure that he could whip this crafty plebe. But the issue had been thrown fairly in his teeth. Moreover, the honor of the yearling cla.s.s was now at stake, and Kramer wasn't the man to go back on his cla.s.s.

"Listen, gentlemen," broke in Mr. Edwards. "This affair started a little ahead of the time set. It is now nine-fifteen. In ten minutes or less, we can have Mr. Spurlock on his way to cadet hospital.

Then, if you two mix it up spicily, we can have the affair over by nine-forty. In any case I shall have to call the fight by that time, and decide it a draw, if necessary. What say you?"