round."

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

"Yes; I think I feel as fine as my man does," replied Dick, 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 Dick seemed
less inclined to trust to his nimble feet. He put up a stand-up front,
though several of Spurlock's sledge-hammer blows passed over
Dick'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.

Dick 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. Dick 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, Dick 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 class 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