"I'll call you a girl, then, if you prefer," proposed Dick, with
a tantalizing grin.

"You don't know how to talk to gentlemen," retorted Fred, harshly.

"Be silent, both of you," ordered Thompson, sternly. "You can
do your talking in another way.

"Can't begin too soon for me," uttered Ripley.

"One minute rounds for you, gentlemen," continued Thompson, then
turned to another upper classman, requesting him to hold the watch.
"Now are you ready?"

Ripley grunted, Dick nodded.

"Ready, then! Shake hands!"

"I won't," replied Dick, sturdily, ere Fred could speak. The
latter, though he, too, would have refused, went white with rage.

"Take your places, then," directed Thompson, briskly. "Ready!
Time!"

Fred Ripley put up a really splendid guard as he advanced warily
upon the freshman. Dick's guard, at the outset, was not as good.
They feinted for two or three passes, then Ripley let out a short-arm
jab that caught Dick Prescott on the end of the nose. Blood began
to drip.