“Two to one,” remarked Drake, “this is Hammerswell’s work. It’s my idea he put the Cole boy up to it, with the notion that Merriwell might be knocked out and injured so that he would be unable to do his best in the ball game to-day.” Brad Buckhart heard some of this talk, and at once he stepped over to the men. “Don’t you worry any at all about my pard,” he said. “He’s just fooling with that chap now. He hasn’t tried to hit him yet. Dick has touched him a few times just to get him started.” “There he goes!” again palpitated Smiley. “My gracious! that boy’s quick as a cat on his feet!” Again Dick had closed in on Cole, struck him several light blows, and escaped without a return. “He doesn’t seem to have much force in his blows,” observed William Drake. “Apparently he can hit Cole almost at will, but he can’t hurt him.” “Wait some,” advised Brad. “He hasn’t made up his mind to do any damage yet. He’s enjoying this little racket a whole lot.” “But while he fools with Cole,” said Duncan, “he is exposing himself to a blow that might put him out. Those are hard gloves, and a good jolt with them will count almost as much as a blow with the bare fist.” Buckhart remained undisturbed and confident, repeating his assurance that Dick could take care of himself. At length Cole became exasperated at Dick’s success in closing with him and getting away without harm. “Now you’re doing it, Jack!” shouted his father, as the Maplewood boy followed Merriwell up with a rush and succeeded in landing a spent blow. “Keep him going, son, keep him going!” Of a sudden young Merriwell stopped and met his antagonist as the fellow came on. Parrying two blows, Dick struck once with a swinging upward movement that actually lifted Cole off his feet and dropped him to the floor. Old John gave a gasp of astonishment. With the exception of Smart, Dick’s friends laughed. Ted pretended to shed tears. Jack Cole came up with a spring, and lost no time in getting at it again. And now Henry Duncan noted that, although Cole was breathing quite heavily, Merriwell seemed perfectly fresh and unwinded. “Your friend has the staying power,” he remarked to Brad. The Texan smiled. “You bet your boots!” he nodded. “That’s the way he wins out. He never quits.” By this time old John Cole was greatly excited. He pranced this way and that, calling to his son and urging him on. “Never touched yer, boy!” he shouted. “He can’t jar you that way!” Faster and more furious became the encounter. Cole swung repeatedly with his left, trying to get in a telling blow. Once he brushed Dick’s cheek, and once he landed on Merriwell’s chest. In return he was hit repeatedly, but did not seem to mind it. “I will git yer before I’m done!” he hissed. “I’ll put yer out of business!” Dick saw vindictiveness in his opponent’s eyes, and detected hatred in the intonation of Cole’s voice.