twenty friends.

The field was quickly reached. Ben Alvord was cooling, now. He would
have drawn out of the fight, but knew that he couldn't get out without
discredit. So Ben pulled off his jacket, took off his collar and tie and
made ready.

Dick, who was almost wholly free from anger, made similar preparations.
After a good deal of disputing Hoof Sadby was agreed upon as a referee
satisfactory to both sides. Dave, of course, seconded Dick, while Alvord
chose Toby Ross.

"Get your men forward," ordered Hoof. "Want to shake hands before you
start?"

"No," growled Ben sullenly.

"Time, then! Get busy!"

Dick threw himself on guard. He was not an amazingly good boxer, but he
had been through a few schoolboy fights.

"I'll knock your head off and wind it up!" blazed Ben, darting forward.

Instead of carrying out his programme, Ben received a blow on the nose
that staggered him.

"No fair!" howled Ben, retreating. "I hadn't my guard up."

"Your fault, then," mocked Dick.

"All fair," chimed in Hoof. "Stop talking and mix it up."

Ben soon advanced once more, rather disconcerted by the wholly steady
bearing of Dick Prescott.

This time Alvord tried to foul by hitting below the belt. Dick
sidestepped and drove in a blow against Ben's left eye.

"My! That was a socker!" yelled some of the spectators.

"You're hitting too hard. It ain't fair," wailed Ben, backing off.

"If all you want is gymnastics you don't need me," mocked Dick. "Fight,
if you're going to. If you're not, then get out of this."

"Mix it up!" ordered Hoof tersely, and the crowd took up the cry.

Ben suddenly let loose. For a few moments he kept young Prescott pretty
busy. Not all of Ben's blows were fended off, either. Dick's face began
to show red spots from the hard impacts of Alvord's tough little fists.

"Good boy, Ben! Go in and wind up his clock!" came the gleeful advice.
"You've got him started. Keep him going!"

Just then a blow under the chin sent Ben down to the ground.

"Keep back, Prescott. Don't hit him while he's down," cried several. But
this Dick had no intention of doing. Panting slightly, he waited for Ben
to get to his feet. This Alvord soon did, drawing away crouchingly.

"Got enough?" hailed Dick.

"I'll show you!" raged Ben, rushing forward.

Dick met him half-way, in a leap. Now it was Prescott on the offensive,
and he forced Ben all over the field, to the tune of encouraging yells.
Ben tried to save his f