Then, in turning, suddenly, Dick let one leg drag an instant behind
him. Spurlock, following like lightning, aimed a blow, but it fell
short, for he tripped over Dick's leg and fell sprawling.
Referee, time-keeper and plebe principals laughed. Spurlock's
seconds scowled.
But Dick generously drew back five or six feet, standing on the
defensive until Mr. Spurlock leaped to his feet, ready to renew the
combat.
Spurlock, however, had hurt one of his knees, in going down, just
enough to interfere with his nimbleness of pursuit during the rest
of the round. Time-keep Jennison soon ended that round.
"Mister," growled Yearling Kramer, turning around while Dick sat
between his seconds being sponged and kneaded, "don't be so
much of a coward! Don't run away and delay the finish. Stand up
as if you had some manhood!"
"Thank you, sir," replied Dick coldly. "I'm managing my end of
this fight."
"You b.j. little poltroon," snarled Kramer. "I'll call you out myself
if you have the nerve to talk back!" hissed Kramer.
"Is licking cowards your specialty?" demanded Prescott coolly.
But that settled it, making a coming fight with Kramer an absolute
necessity, now.
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