in his head.

Frank saw that the only way he could end the fight was to finish his
unrelenting and persistent foe.

Diamond fought like an infuriated tiger. Again and again Frank's fist
cracked on his face, and still he did not falter, but continued to
stand up and "take his medicine."

In less than a minute the Virginian was bleeding at the nose, and had
received a blow in one of his eyes that was causing it to swell in a way
that threatened to close it entirely.

The spectators were greatly excited, and not a few of them declared it
was the most gamey fight they had ever witnessed.

The front of Diamond's shirt was stained with blood, and he presented a
sorry aspect. His chest was heaving, but his uninjured eye glared with
unabated fury and determination.

"Will he never give up?" muttered Harry Rattleton. "He's a regular hog!
The fellow doesn't know when he has enough."

It was true Southern grit. It was the unyielding Southern spirit--the
spirit that led the soldiers of the South to make one of the pluckiest
struggles known in history.

While the fellow's grit had won Frank's admiration, still Merriwell had
learned that it would not do to let up. The only way out of the fight
was to end it, and he set about trying to accomplish that with as little