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Frank Merriwell at Yale; Or, Freshman Against Freshman

<h2> CHAPTER IV. </h2> <h3> THE FIGHT. </h3>  The blow staggered Frank. It had come so suddenly that he was quite unprepared for it. His face became suddenly pale, save where Diamond's hand had struck, and there the crimson prints of four fingers came out quickly, like a danger signal. With the utmost deliberation Merriwell removed his coat. "Come, sir!" he said to Diamond as he passed coat and hat to a ready sophomore. "I—I can't fight you that way!" protested the Virginian. "Bring the rapiers." "This time I claim the right to name the weapons, and they will be bare fists." "Right! right!" cried several voices. "You'll have to fight him that way, Diamond." "I will fight him!" grated Jack, furiously. "It is the prize fighter's way, but I'll fight him, and I will lick him!" He tore off his coat and flung it down. The boys quickly formed a ring, and the freshmen foes faced each other. Then the door of the room where the other freshmen were confined was thrust open, and Harry Rattleton excitedly cried: "Whee jiz—I mean jee whiz! what do you fellows think? Do you imagine we are going to stay penned in here while there is a scrap going on? Well, I guess not! We're coming out!" Harry came with a rush, and the other freshmen followed at his heels, the party having been abandoned by the sophs who had been placed on guard over them. "Hold on! hold on!" commanded Harry, forcing his way toward the fighters. "I am Merriwell's second, and I'm going to see fair play, you bet!" "And I am Diamond's second," said Roland Ditson. "Just give me a chance in the ring there." The appearance of the freshmen caused a brief delay. There was some talk about rules and rounds, and Diamond said: "If I must fight with my fists, I'll fight as I please. I don't know about your rules, and there will be but one round—that will finish it." "How does that suit you, Merriwell?" asked Tad Horner, who seemed to have assumed the position of referee. "I am willing that Mr. Diamond should arrange that matter to suit himself." "But there is to be no kicking," Tad Horner hastily put in. "Certainly not," stiffly agreed the Southerner. "All right. Shake hands." Diamond placed both hands behind his back, and Merriwell laughed. "Ready!" called Horner. "On guard! Now you're off!" Barely had the words left the little referee's lips when—top, tap, slap!—Merriwell had struck Diamond three light blows with his open hand. A gasp of astonishment came from the watching sophomores. Never had they seen three blows delivered in such lightning-like rapidity, but their ears had not fooled them, and they heard each blow distinctly. Merriwell's guard was perfect, his pose was light and professional, and he suddenly seemed catlike on his feet. Diamond was astonished, but only for an instant. The tapping blows started his blood, and he sprang toward his foe, striking out with his left and then with his right. Merriwell did not attempt to guard, but he dodged both blows with ease, and then smiled sweetly into the face of the baffled Virginian. "Oh, say!" chuckled Harry Rattleton, hugging himself in delighted anticipation, "just you fellows wait a minute! Diamond will think he has been struck by an earthquake!" Bruce Browning, himself a scientific boxer, was watching every movement of the two freshmen. He turned to Puss Parker at his side and said: "Merriwell handles himself like an old professional. By Jove! I believe there's good stuff in that fellow!" "Diamond would like to kill Merriwell," said Parker. "You can see it in his face and eyes." In truth there was a deadly look in the eyes of the pale-faced young Virginian. His lips were pressed together, and a hardening of the jaws told that his teeth were set. He was following Merriwell up, and the latter was avoiding him with ease. Plainly Diamond meant to corner the lad he hated and then force the fighting to a finish. The rivals were nearly of a height and they wore built much alike, although Frank had slightly the better chest development. Merriwell seemed to toy with Diamond, giving him several little pat-like blows on the breast and in the ribs. When the Virginian felt that he had Frank cornered he was astonished to see Merriwell slip under his arm and come up laughing behind him. Merriwell's laughter filled Diamond's very soul with gall and wormwood. "Wait!" he thought. "He laughs best who laughs last." "Give it to him, Frank!" urged Rattleton. "You'll get out of wind dodging about, and then it will not be so easy to finish him off." But Frank saw that in a scientific way Diamond was no match for him, and he disliked to strike the fellow. He regretted very much that the unfortunate affair had come about, and he felt that there could be no satisfaction in whipping the Southerner. Merriwell hoped to toy with Diamond till the latter should see that his efforts were fruitless and give up in disgust. But he did not yet recognize the kind of stuff of which John Diamond was built. "Come! come!" impatiently called one of the spectators. "Quit ducking and dodging and get into the game." "That's right! that's right!" chorused several. "This is no sport." "And it's no six-day walking match," sneered Roland Ditson. "Merriwell seems afraid to stand up and face Diamond." "Is that what you think?" Frank mentally exclaimed. "Well, I suppose I will have to hit him a few times, although it goes against my grain." A moment later he dropped his hands by his side and took a step to meet the Virginian. It seemed like a great opportunity for Diamond, and he led off straight for Frank's face, striking with his left. With a slight side movement of his head Frank avoided the blow, allowing his enemy's fist to pass over his shoulder. At the same time he cross countered with his right hand, cracking Jack a heavy one under the ear. "Hooray!" cried Harry Rattleton in delight. "That was a corker! Bet Sparkler saw more stars than there are in the Wilky May—I mean Milky Way." For a few minutes the fight was hot. Again and again Frank struck his enemy, but without putting his full strength into any of the blows, but it did not seem to have any effect on Diamond save to make him more fierce and determined. "The Southerner's got some sand," commented Bruce Browning. "That's right," nodded Puss Parker. "He takes punishment well for a while, at least; but I don't believe he will hold out much longer. I think he is the kind of a fellow to go to pieces in an instant." "You can't tell about that. I have a fancy that he's deceptive." None of them, save Rattleton, possibly, knew that Merriwell was reserving any of his strength when he struck his foe. The fellows who a short time before were the most indignant against the Southerner because he seemed determined to "blow" were now forced to admire his bulldog tenacity and sand. Merriwell had no desire to severely injure Diamond, although he had felt some resentment toward the fellow for forcing him into a duel with rapiers. To Frank it had seemed that the Virginian had no hesitation in taking advantage of an enemy, for Diamond must have presumed that Merriwell knew nothing of the art of fencing and swordplay. But for this belief, Merriwell would have been inclined to keep on and tire his enemy out, without striking a single blow that could leave a mark. But when Frank came to consider everything, he decided that it was no more than fair that he should give his persistent foe a certain amount of punishment. Again and again Frank cross countered and upper-cut Diamond, and gradually he came to strike harder as the Virginian forced the fighting, without showing signs of letting up. Bruises and swellings began to appear on Diamond's face. On one cheek Merriwell's knuckles cut through the skin, and the blood began to run, creeping down to his chin and dropping on the bosom of his white shirt. Still, from the determination and fury with which he fought, it seemed that Diamond was utterly unconscious that he had been struck at all. Jack did not consider how he had led Frank into a duel with rapiers without knowing whether the fellow he hated had ever taken a fencing lesson in all his life. His one thought was that, being an expert boxer himself, Merriwell had forced him to a fist fight, believing it would be easy to dispose of him that way. Diamond's hatred of Frank made him blind to the fact that he was in the least to blame, and filled him with a passionate belief that he could kill the smiling Northerner without a qualm of conscience—without a pang of remorse. At last, disgusted with his non-success in striking Frank at all, he sprang forward suddenly and grappled with him. Frank had been on the watch for that move. Then the boys saw a pretty struggle for a moment, ending with Diamond being lifted and dropped heavily, squarely on his back. Merriwell came down heavily on his persistent enemy. Frank fell on Jack with the hope of knocking the wind out of the fellow and thus bringing the fight to a close. For a few moments it seemed that he had succeeded. Frank sprang up lightly, just as Tad Horner grappled him by the hair with both hands and yelled: "Break away!" Roland Ditson was at Diamond's side in a twinkling. "Come, come, old man!" he whispered; "get up and get into the game again! Don't let them count you out!" But the Virginian was gasping for breath, and he did not seem to hear the words of his second. "That settles it," said Puss Parker, promptly. "Better wait and see," advised Bruce Browning. "Diamond may not give up when he gets his breath." "It doesn't look as if he'd ever get his breath again." Harry Rattleton was at Frank's side, swiftly saying: "Why didn't you knock him out and show the fellows what you can do? You monkeyed with the goat too long. He's stuffy, and you had to settle him sometime. It didn't make a dit of bifference whether it was first or last." "That's all right," smiled Frank. "He's got sand, and I hated to nail him hard. It seemed a shame to thump such a fellow and cover his face with decorations." "Shame? shame?" spluttered Harry. "Why, didn't he force you into a duel with rapiers, or try to? and he is an expert! Say, what's the matter with you? If I'd been in your place I'd gone into him tooth and nail, and I wouldn't have left him in the shape of anything. Have you got a soft spot around you somewhere, Merriwell?" "I admire sand, even if it is in an enemy." "You take the cherry pie—yes, you take the whole bakery!" Harry gazed at his roommate in wonder that was not entirely unmingled with pity and disgust. He could not understand Merriwell, and such generosity toward a persistent foe on the part of Frank seemed like weakness. In the meantime Ditson had been urging Diamond to get up. "They'll call the scrap finished if you don't get onto your pins in a jiffy," he warned. "Horner's got his watch in his hand." Still the Virginian gasped for breath and seemed unable to lift a hand. If ever a fellow seemed done up, it was Diamond just then. Roll Ditson ground his teeth in despair. "Oh, Merriwell will think he is cock of the walk now!" he muttered. "He'll crow and strut! He's laughing over it now!" "Wh-what's that?" gasped Diamond, trying to sit up. "He is laughing at you," hurriedly whispered Ditson, lying glibly. "I just heard him tell Rattleton that he could have knocked the stuffing out of you in less than a quarter of a minute. He says you'll never dare face him again." "Oh, he does! oh, he does!" came huskily from Diamond's lips. "Well, we'll see about that—we'll see!" With Ditson's aid he got upon his feet. Then his breath and his strength seemed to come to him in a twinkling. With a backward snap of his arm he flung his second away. Then uttering a hoarse cry, he rushed like a mad bull at the lad he hated.       <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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