Dirk Van Horn clenched his teeth without answering. For an instant, the watching boys saw a stab of fury flare up in his dark eyes. He set his feet, held his head high, and his arms swung into the guard position.
Brick advanced still one further step. “Had enough, Baby? I won’t ask you again. If you’ll apologize, I won’t hurt you any more today——”
He was too close for his own safety. Dirk grunted as he shot his arm forward in a telling blow straight from the shoulder. His bunched knuckles caught the surprised Brick on the point of the jaw.
A ludicrous look of amazement came over Brick Ryan’s face. For an instant he tottered, grinning stupidly at the staring circle of boys; then, with a soft groan, he slid backward, his knees gave way gently, and he slumped senseless upon the ground.
“Ten!” counted Al Canning. “Van Horn wins with a sweet knockout!”
“Yay, Handsome Van, the K. O. Kid!” cried Jerry Utway, hammering his champion upon the back. “Gee, what a beautiful swat that was!”
Brick Ryan opened his eyes. His head was still spinning from the force of the blow that had vanquished him. As through a mist he could see the dim faces of the boys about his prostrate form. Among them stood out the triumphant, smiling features of Dirk Van Horn.
A hand shook his shoulder, and Jake Utway spoke in his ear. “Are you all right now, Brick? Tough luck. He sure packs a wallop!”
Brick tried to grin, and groaned in spite of himself. His jaw still ached mightily where his antagonist’s doubled fist had struck, and his swollen lower lip was bleeding slightly.
“I have to hand it to him,” he mumbled, and with Jake’s help clambered unsteadily to his feet.
“Gollies, how did he do it? It was as clean a knockout as I ever seen.”
“Well, you were asking for it,” observed Slim Yerkes.
“I guess I was.” Brick smiled ruefully. “Van Horn, I guess we’ve been gettin’ each other wrong. There may be some things about campin’ that you don’t know, but when it comes to scrappin’——! Say, you beat me square, but I don’t hold any grudge. From now on, let’s forget everything and be friends. What do you say?” He held out his hand in a frank gesture.
Dirk looked at the outstretched hand, and his lip curled slightly.
“Ryan,” he said deliberately, “I said you were a mucker, and I still think so. Any time you want another boxing lesson, come around. Otherwise, kindly keep to your own affairs and leave me to mine.” He pointedly turned his back, picked up his wet shirt, and stalked off up the path to the lodge.