“Yes, they are the challenging parties. They think Jackson can whip his weight in wildcats, and it is their boast that he will hammer the best man Fairmount can put up all over the ring. Mr. Hegner has been handling Burk nearly six weeks, and has him in the pink of condition. He says our man will give Jackson the biggest surprise he ever struck. If it was to be with hard gloves, it’s more than even Burk would knock Jackson out in four rounds. But we——” “Oh, Charlie!” exclaimed his sister; “what do you suppose we care about that! You can talk of those things at the club, and you are there the most of the time.” “I beg your pardon,” laughed Creighton. “I forgot the young ladies present. They do not care for boxing.” “Some of them do,” said Fanny Darling, quickly. “I like a fellow who can handle his fists scientifically and take care of himself. That’s why I admire Mr. Hegner so much.” “Thank you,” Hegner bowed, with great gravity. “The manly art is worth acquiring, if it were useful only to protect young ladies from insult.” “Haw!” grunted Hodge. “There are some fellows who can box a little, and yet do not make a great spread about it.” Hegner’s eyes narrowed, and he surveyed Hodge with the same insolent air with which he had regarded Frank Merriwell. “I presume you box some, sir?” he asked. “Not much, but I have friends who are able to put up quite a little go.” Charlie Creighton interposed laughingly, and introduced Hegner and Hodge. Bart bowed stiffly, but did not offer his hand, while Hegner nodded as if he had rheumatism in his neck. Then Diamond was introduced. “Do you put on the gloves?” Hegner asked of the Virginian, in a blunt way. “Not often,” was the answer, as Jack’s cheeks glowed a bit. “Never had them on in my life till I went to Yale and ran up against Merriwell. Southerners, sir, have a way of settling differences with other weapons than their fists.” “Oh!” Jack bit his lip, for there was a hidden sneer in that simple exclamation. For a moment he felt like challenging Hegner on the spot, but remembered that he was in the North, where such things did not “go.” Hegner turned to Frank, whom he again surveyed from head to feet. “From what Mr. Diamond says, I infer that you are something of a boxer,” he observed. “Well, there are others,” smiled Merry. “I do not consider myself anything more than fairly handy with the gloves.” “Now, Frank!” began Hodge; but Merriwell cut him short with a glance. “Well, I didn’t know but you thought you could spar,” said Hegner, in a bored way, and then he turned and began to talk to Fanny Darling, who chatted and laughed with him as if pleased by his attention. Frank was thoroughly disgusted by the air assumed by Creighton’s companion, and Charlie himself was not pleased. And Bart Hodge was chewing his tongue as a war horse might champ its bit, while he glared at Hegner’s back in a way that told he was thoroughly “stirred up.”