to hit Dave in the face.

The boy from the country was on guard, and ducked with a quickness that
surprised his antagonist. Then he gave Merwell's arm a twist that sent
the tall youth sprawling on the ice.

The new pupil was amazed, and it took him several seconds to recover
himself. He had not dreamed that Dave was so powerful, yet he threw
prudence to the winds and rushed in, trying again to reach Dave's face
with his fist. But Dave skipped to one side, put out his foot, and again
Merwell went down, on his hands and knees.

"I'll fix you!" he roared, scrambling up, his face red with rage. "I'll
show you what I can do! How do you like that, you poorhouse rat!"

This time he hit Dave in the breast. The blow was a heavy one, but it
did not hurt nearly as much as did the words which accompanied it. They
made Dave shiver as if with ague, and, all in a blaze he could not curb,
he sprang towards Link Merwell. Out shot first one fist and then the
other, the blows landing on the eye and chin of the tall youth. They
made him stagger back against the ice-boat. Then came a third blow, and
Merwell gave a gasp, swayed from side to side, and would have fallen had
not Nat Poole caught him as he was going down.

"Stop, Porter; don't hit him again!"

"Merwell, do you take back what you just said?" demanded Dave, paying no
attention to Nat Poole's remark.

There was an instant of silence. Link Merwell wanted to answer, but was
too dazed to do so. Slowly and painfully he stood erect. His head was in
a whirl and one eye was rather rapidly closing.

"Merwell, are you going to take back what you said?" demanded Dave,
again. And he held his fist ready to strike another blow.

"Ye--yes," stuttered Link Merwell. "Do--don't hit me again!" And then he
collapsed in a heap at Dave's feet.

CHAPTER XII

THE MEETING OF THE GEE EYES

When Link Merwell went down again Dave looked at Nat Poole, thinking
that lad might possibly attack him. But the dudish fellow was too scared
to do anything but back away to a safe distance.

"Don--don't you dare to hit me, Porter!" he cried, in a trembling voice.
"Don't you dare! If you do I'll tell Doctor Clay!"

"If you behave yourself I'll not lay my fingers on you, Nat Poole," was
the reply. "Merwell brought this on himself--you know that as well as I
do."

"He's pretty badly hurt, I fear."

"Oh, he'll come around all right," answered Dave. "You had better see to
it that he gets to the Ha