Home > Authors Index > Burt L. Standish > Frank Merriwell's Chums > This page
Frank Merriwell's Chums, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
||
Chapter 18. Rains' Challenge |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XVIII. RAINS' CHALLENGE Bascomb's movement had been noted by the spectators, and a cry of astonishment and warning broke from many lips. "Look out!" shouted Bart Hodge. Frank had seen the movement, and he needed no warning. Like a flash, he ducked to the right, and Bascomb's bare fist missed his face and shot over his shoulder. At the same instant Frank countered with his left, striking the big fellow on the chin, and hurling him backward with force enough to send him reeling. Leaping forward, Merriwell followed up his advantage, and Bascomb received two terrible blows, one of which knocked him down as if he had been struck by a cannon ball. Then Frank flung off both his gloves, his face flushed, and his eyes flashing, as he exclaimed: "Two can play at your game, fellow! If you want to try a round with uncovered knuckles, pick yourself up and come on!" Snarling like a wounded dog, Bascomb scrambled to his feet; but here the spectators surged between the two, Rains catching hold of the big plebe, while Hodge grasped Merriwell. "Easy, Frank!" warned Bart. "Are you crazy? You know what it will mean if you fight in the gym. Rhynas has noticed it now--he's coming." "Confound that fellow!" muttered Frank. "I don't often get started this way, but it was such a dirty trick that----" "Never mind, now. Keep still, or Rhynas will hear." "Let me get at him!" Bascomb had snarled. "I will beat the life out of him!" "Stop! stop!" said Rains, swiftly. "You are making a fool of yourself! You can't fight here!" "Can't I? Well----" "No, it is against the rules. If you press this, you will be expelled, for the affair will be investigated, and it will be proved that you bared your hand, and Merriwell was forced to do so to defend himself." "Oh, I could hammer him!" "Well, there is plenty of time. Steady, now! Here is the professor. He has scented a row. Can't you play cool, and pretend it was a joke? Quick!" Then Frank was surprised to see Bascomb come forward, laughing in a sickly way, as he said: "You're pretty flip with your hands, Merriwell, and that's right. I hope you won't lay up anything against me because I lost my glove. I was so excited that I didn't know it was gone." It was on Frank's tongue to give Bascomb the lie, but, for once in his life, Hodge was the cooler of the two, and he warned his friend by a soft pressure on the arm. Then, seeing Professor Rhynas listening, with a dark look on his face, Frank laughed, and retorted: "I don't mind a little thing like that, Bascomb, as long as you didn't strike me. I rather think I held my own with you, and so we will drop it." "Yes," said Bascomb, "we will drop it--for the present." The way he spoke the words seemed to indicate that, though they might let it drop for the present, the affair was not settled between them, by any means. Rhynas now demanded to know the cause of the excitement, and he was told that Bascomb had knocked his glove off, and then, in his excitement, had struck a blow. The professor looked blacker than ever. "Such a thing is not possible," he declared. "This is no resort for fighters. If you fellows have any differences to settle, settle them elsewhere. I propose to run this department so there can be no slurs cast upon it, and I will not have fighting, quarreling or loud talking here." The professor was very strict, and they knew he meant every word he spoke, so they did their best to pacify him with smooth words and apologies. The man, however, was too shrewd to be deceived, and he knew very well that the two boxers had come very near fighting in the gymnasium while he was present. However, he could do nothing but warn them, which he did, and then went about his affairs. The spectators of the little bout had been given something to talk about, for, up to that moment, they had not dreamed there was any one in the academy who could stand up before Bascomb's "wicked left" and not be unmercifully hammered. Merriwell had been touched very few times with Bascomb's left, for he had constantly been on the guard for any blow that might come from that point, and he had thumped the big plebe most aggravatingly all through the affair. But, what was most significant, after Bascomb had flung off one glove and struck at Frank with his bare fist, the smaller and more supple lad had sailed in and shown that he could put pounds into his blows, for he had driven Bascomb back and knocked him down. This feat had caused Paul Rains to gasp with astonishment, and, in his heart, he was forced to acknowledge that he doubted if he were yet a match for Merriwell. Hodge alone, of them all, had believed all along that Frank was more than a match for Bascomb. Now the spectators began to realize that Merriwell was not given to boasting or "showing off," for he had made no pretense to be the champion boxer, and he had allowed them to think Bascomb was more than a match for anybody in the academy. When forced to meet some one in a contest that should be a test of skill, Frank had chosen to meet Bascomb, which showed he had been confident in himself all along, for all that he had not thrust himself forward. In his heart, Rains was very sore, for he had just met Bascomb, and, while he had made a good display, the big fellow had shown that he was the superior. "Merriwell is putting me in the shade without running up against me at all," thought Paul. "I have lost ground with the fellows right here. How can I recover?" It did not take him long to decide that he must go against Merriwell in some kind of a contest--and beat him. "You are very clever with the gloves, Merriwell," said Rains, stepping forward, and speaking placidly; "but I would like to see what you can do jumping." "Is that a challenge?" asked Frank, quietly. "If you wish to regard it as such." "Oh, I am not anxious; I simply wanted to know just what you meant it for." "Then let it go as a challenge." "For what--high jump, or broad jump?" "Both." "That's the talk!" laughed one of the spectators. "Now we will have more sport!" "All right," laughed Frank. "I will go you, though I have not been doing much jumping lately, and I am not in my best form." "That will sound all right if you beat," said Rains; "but it will not do for an excuse if you lose." "All right; let it go. I won't try to make any other excuse in case you are the victor." In a mass the boys surged toward a piece of ground just outside of the gymnasium adapted to jumping. "What shall it be first?" asked Frank, as he stood at the edge of the long strip of turf. "Running long jump," decided Rains. "That's agreeable. You challenged, and I presume we are to take turns for three jumps, the one who makes the best leap out of the number is the winner?" "That's all right." Hodge spoke up quickly: "What do you mean by taking turns? Is one to jump three times, and then the other jump three times?" "No, I mean for us to alternate," explained Frank. "First one jumps, and then the other." Hodge nodded his satisfaction. "That is fair, and it is much better than the other way," he declared. The rivals made preparations for the contest. By lot it fell to Rains to lead off. Rains was smiling and confident. "If there is anything I can do, I can jump," he told Bascomb, in an aside. "I will beat him by a foot, at the very least." "I hope you will beat him by a yard!" muttered the big fellow, sullenly. "I want to see him taken down. He has been a leader long enough." "Oh, I will manage to win some of his glory away from him before the spring campaign opens," said Rains, confidently. "Don't you worry about that; but," he added, swiftly, "don't repeat my words to anybody. I am not going to boast, but I am going to do something. That's the proper way." "Sure," nodded Bascomb. "I guess you can do it, too." In his heart, however, Bascomb did not feel at all sure that Rains would prove the victor in the jumping contest. "Merriwell is the hardest fellow to beat that I ever saw," he told himself. "It doesn't seem possible to down him, and keep him down. If one seems to get the best of him for a bit, he bobs up serenely directly, and comes out on top. It is just his luck!" If Bascomb had said it was just Merriwell's pluck he would have hit the truth, for Frank, besides being physically capable, was endowed with any amount of determination, having a never-say-die spirit that would not give up as long as there was a ghost of a chance left to pull out a winner. In the words of the boys, "Merriwell was no quitter." "Ready," called the fellow who had been chosen for referee. "Rains will set the stint." _ |
||