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 delay as possible.

Once Diamond succeeded in getting in another blow, and it left a slight swelling over one of the other lad’s eyes.

But Merriwell did not seem to know that he had been hit.  He soon cracked the Virginian upon the uninjured eye, and that began to swell.  In a few seconds it seemed that Diamond must soon go blind.

“Finish him, old man—­finish him!” urged Harry.

Frank was looking for the chance, but it was some time before he found it.  It came at last, and his left landed on the jaw beneath Diamond’s ear.

Over went the Southerner, and he lay like a log where he fell.

At a glance, it was evident to all that he was knocked out.

The boys crowded around Merriwell, eager to congratulate him, but he thrust them back, saying: 

“It’s the first time in my life I ever did a thing of which I was ashamed!  Look after him.  I’m all right.”

“Say!” exploded Harry Rattleton, “you make me sick!  Didn’t you have to do it?”

“I suppose so.”

“Didn’t he strike you foul twice?”

“He knows nothing of rules, and we were fighting by no rules, so there could be no foul.”

“Oh, no!  If he’d soaked you with a brick you’d said it was all right!  I say, you make me sick!  Wait till he gets a good chance to do you, and see how quick he will take it.”

“He’ll not be to blame if he tries to get square.”

“Oh, go hoke your sed—­I mean soak your head!  I’ll catch you some time when you are asleep and try to pound a little sense into you.”

“Well, take care of Diamond,” ordered Merriwell.  “That last one I gave him was a beastly thump.”