Frank Merriwell's Chums Part 22

"I'm your man," he said. "Peel off and get into gear. It won't take me long to show you there are a few things you do not know."

He laughed in a disagreeable way, and Hodge, who had overheard all, bit his lips to repress an outburst of anger.

"The sneak!" whispered Bart to Frank, as the latter stepped aside to take off his coat and vest. "He means to use his sledgehammer blow on you. He won't box for points, but he will try to soak you. Look out for him."

"I am not afraid of him."

"That's all right; but you know he has been practicing that blow, and they say it is terrible. He is cut out for a prizefighter, and is no fit boxing antagonist for a gentleman."

"I shall look out for his 'wicked left,' as I have heard the boys call it."

"He wants to provoke you into a fight with himself or Rains."

"I thought as much; but he may change his mind after we spar, if he does not catch me foul by an accident."

"He is tricky."

"I will watch out for his tricks."

"Look out for his cross-b.u.t.tock. He's stout as a moose, and he will give you a nasty fall."

For all of his warning words, Bart had great confidence in Frank. They had fought once, shortly after coming to Fardale, and Hodge had found Merriwell more than his match then. Since that time, Frank had missed no opportunity to pick up points in boxing, and his advancement had been great.

Still there was a chance that, by some accident, Bas...o...b..might land once with that "wicked left," or might seek to injure Merriwell by a fall, if he found that he was matched in every other way, so Bart was on hand with his words of warning.

It did not take Frank long to get ready, and it was not long before the two boys faced each other, adjusting the gloves upon their hands. Then they came up to the scratch, and the word was given that started the contest.

Bas...o...b..started in at once with a series of false motions intended to confuse Merriwell, but they simply brought a faint smile to Frank's face, and he remained as placid as ever until----

Just as Bas...o...b..had decided to rush, Merriwell rushed. There was a flashing of their gloves. The big fellow struck twice, and both blows were met by a ready guard.

Biff! biff! biff! First with the right, and then twice with the left Frank struck the big plebe. None of them were heavy blows, but they all stung, and the angry blood surged to Bas...o...b..s face, as he saw Merriwell leap back beyond his reach, laughing a bit.

"Mosquito bites!" said Bas...o...b.. derisively.

"But they count."

"Who cares. I will more than square that in a minute."

"All right; I am waiting."

Once more they were at it, toe to toe, hands moving slightly, light on their feet, ready to dodge or spring, ready to strike or guard. Blows came, one landing on Merriwell's cheek, and another on his shoulder; but more than twenty were dodged or guarded, and Bas...o...b..was struck twice for every blow he gave.

Frank was watching for that left hand body blow, and it came at last, just when Bas...o...b..thought it must count.

In that case Bas...o...b..deceived himself.

The blow was struck swiftly enough, but Frank stopped it with a right hand guard, and, with his left, countered heavily on Bas...o...b..s mouth, sending the big fellow's head back.

Bas...o...b..was surprised, and he showed it. He was also thoroughly angered, and he proceeded to "wade into" Merriwell like a cyclone.

On the other hand, Merriwell was cool as ice, and he made every blow count something, for even when they failed to land they kept the big fellow busy.

Time after time Bas...o...b..rushed in, but Merriwell was light as a feather on his feet, and he danced nimbly about, tapping the other fellow now here, now there, smiling sweetly all the while, and showing a skill that was very baffling to Bas...o...b..

"Hang him!" thought the big fellow. "He is a regular jumping jack. If I don't land a blow on him pretty quick, I am going to clinch."

This he soon did, catching Frank for the cross-b.u.t.tock throw.

For a moment it looked as if Merriwell would be flung heavily, and Hodge drew his breath through his teeth with a hissing sound that turned to a sigh of relief as he saw his friend thrust forward his right foot between Bas...o...b..s, break his wrist clear and catch the big fellow behind the left knee with his left hand, while he brought his right arm up over Bas...o...b..s shoulder, and pressed his hand over Bas...o...b..s face, snapping his head back and hurling him off sideways.

This was done quickly and scientifically, and it convinced Hodge that Bas...o...b..could not work the cross-b.u.t.tock on Merriwell.

Hugh Bas...o...b..was disgusted and infuriated by his failure. He had counted on having a soft thing, and he was actually getting the worst of the encounter.

Time was called, and a breathing spell taken.

Then they went at it again, and this time both worked savagely, their movements being swift and telling.

Watching this battle, Paul Rains began to believe that he was not yet quite Merriwell's match at boxing.

"But I am a better man than he is at most anything else," thought the fellow.

Smack! smack! smack!

Merriwell was following Bas...o...b..up like a tiger, and the big fellow was forced to give ground. Again and again Frank hammered the desperate plebe, getting few blows in return and seeming to mind none of them no more than drops of rain.

Bas...o...b..s face wore the look of an enraged bull. Suddenly, with a quick side motion, he snapped off the glove on his left hand.

Then, with his bare first, he struck straight and hard at Frank Merriwell's face!

CHAPTER XVIII.

RAINS' CHALLENGE.

Bas...o...b..s movement had been noted by the spectators, and a cry of astonishment and warning broke from many lips.

"Look out!" shouted Bart Hodge.

Frank had seen the movement, and he needed no warning.

Like a flash, he ducked to the right, and Bas...o...b..s bare fist missed his face and shot over his shoulder.

At the same instant Frank countered with his left, striking the big fellow on the chin, and hurling him backward with force enough to send him reeling.

Leaping forward, Merriwell followed up his advantage, and Bas...o...b..received two terrible blows, one of which knocked him down as if he had been struck by a cannon ball.