“What are you going to do, Manton?” sternly demanded Fuller, stepping forward. “I’m going to put a few dents in the face of that chap!” was the savage answer. “He may be able to bowl and throw people round with his Japanese tricks; but we’ll soon see if he can fight!” “There’ll be no fight!” exclaimed Fuller. “You got what was coming, for you tried to impose on him. You have only yourself to blame.” “Mr. Fuller,” said Merry, in the quietest manner imaginable, “in case Mr. Manton insists, I trust you will not interfere. It seems to me that he is determined to force a personal encounter upon me, and we may as well get at it without delay.” His fighting blood was up at last, and still he smiled. Bart Hodge was the only one who realized how dangerous Merriwell really was when he smiled in that manner. “It will disgrace the club!” exclaimed Fuller. “No need for it to be generally known if Mr. Manton will step down here a short distance behind the trees.” “I’ll step anywhere you say,” panted the pugilist; “but don’t you try to run away!” “You don’t know him!” muttered Hodge, whose eyes were gleaming. “You’ll be better acquainted with him in a short time.” Fuller was regretful, but he finally agreed to let Merry and Manton settle the trouble if they would retire to the spot designated by Frank. They did so, the witnesses accompanying them. Frost urged Manton on. “Smash his face!” hissed he. “Spoil his beauty! You’ve got to do it!” “Leave it to me!” growled the pugilist. “If I don’t beat him up I’ll commit suicide!” On their way to the spot Frank stripped off his coat and vest and removed his collar and necktie, giving these articles to Bart. Fuller tried to apologize to Merry, but Frank checked him. “You’re not in the least to blame,” he said. “You can’t be responsible for the behavior of every member of the club.” “Manton will be expelled.” “Oh, I wouldn’t do that! Don’t do it on my account. I can look out for myself.” “He’s a great fighter. He was the champion boxer at Yale in his day.” “Don’t worry, Fuller. I’ll try to take care of myself.” The moment they reached the spot chosen Manton advanced on Merry. There were no preliminaries and no delay. They were at it in a hurry, crouching, sparring, circling, seeking an opening. No rules had been mentioned. It was a fight to the finish in such a manner as they chose. Manton feinted with his right and tried for Frank’s jaw with his left. The blow was parried, and Merry came back with a cross counter that landed and staggered his enemy. Frost ground his white teeth together and swore. “Get at him, you fool!” he snapped. Manton responded by coming back at Merry and landing a body blow; but for this he received one on the mouth that split his lip and loosened a tooth or two. The fight grew faster and more furious. They came together and Manton clinched, but Merry uppercut him and forced him to break. As he leaped away he was touched lightly by Frank, who followed him closely.