In less than twenty seconds the spectators, who kept back as well as possible, had seen something they never beheld before.  They saw two beardless lads fighting with deadly weapons and using skill that was marvelous.

It took Jack Diamond far less than twenty seconds to discover that Frank Merriwell was a swordsman of astonishing skill.  He had expected to toy with the Northerner, but he found himself engaged with one who met every stroke like a professional.

A great feeling of relief came over Harry Rattleton.

“Whee jiz!” he muttered.  “Merry is a cooler at it!  I believe he’s Diamond’s match!”

With Diamond astonishment gave way to fury.  Was it possible that this fellow was to get the best of him at everything?  He fought savagely, and Ditson turned white as a ghost when he saw the Virginian making mad thrusts at the breast of the lad he hated.

“He’s forgotten his promise—­he’s forgotten!” huskily whispered Ditson.  “What if he should run Merriwell through the body?”

Then came a cry of anger from Diamond and a cry of surprise and relief from the spectators.

Frank Merriwell, with that peculiar twisting movement of his wrist, had torn the rapier from the Virginian’s hand.

The blade fell clanging to the floor, and Merriwell stepped back, with the point of his rapier lowered.

Snarling savagely, Diamond made a catlike spring and snatched up the weapon he had lost.

“On guard!” he cried, madly.  “The end is not yet!  I’ll kill you or you’ll kill me!”

There was a clash of steel, and then the fight was on with more fury than before.

Diamond was utterly reckless.  He left a dozen openings where Frank could have run him through.  But Merriwell was working to repeat the trick of a few seconds before.

The frightened spectators were beginning to think of intervening, when once again Diamond was disarmed.

At the same moment there came a heavy knocking at the door.

One fellow, who had been on guard, ran in from a corridor and cried: 

“It’s the faculty!  Somebody has given them wind of this!”

“Here! here!” called a freshman.  “Follow me!”

They did so, and he led them to a back window, out of which they clambered.

Diamond was the last to get out, and just as he touched the ground somebody came around the corner and grabbed him.

“I have one of them!” shouted a voice, which he recognized as belonging to one of the faculty.

He struggled to break away, but could not.

Then somebody dashed back to his side, caught hold of him, and with wonderful strength tore him from the grasp of the man.

“Run!” panted Frank Merriwell’s voice in his ear.

And they ran away together, and in a short while were safe in their rooms.

It turned out that it was not the faculty that had tried to get in where the duel was taking place, but some of the sophs.  At the time he turned back to rescue Diamond, however, Frank had believed the Virginian was in the grasp of one of the professors.