“You’ll show good judgment, Mr. Big-head, if you don’t try it,” jeered Drayne, menacing Dick with the cane.

The color came into Dick’s face.  Leaping forward, with all the adroitness of the born tackler, he caught that cane, just as it descended, and wrenched it out of Phin Drayne’s cowardly, hand.

Crack!  Dick broke it in two across his knee, then tossed the pieces into the street.

“You’ll never be able to do anything better than a sneaky act,” muttered Dick contemptuously, turning to walk on.

With a smothered cry Phin Drayne leaped forward to strike Prescott down from behind.

Dick was around again like a flash, one fist striking up the arm with which the sneak had aimed his blow.

“Stand off, and keep away,” advised Prescott coldly.

“I won’t; I’ll thrash you!” hissed Phin.

There was nothing for Dick to do but put up his guard, which he did with great promptness.  Drayne danced around him, seeking a good point at which to close in.

Prescott had no notion of fighting; neither did he propose to take an assault meekly.

“Look out!” yelled Drayne, suddenly rushing in.

“Certainly,” mocked Prescott coolly.

He shot up Phin’s arm as easily as could have been desired.  With his right he parried another blow.

“Get out of this, and go about your business,” advised Dick sternly.

“Think I’ll take any orders from you?” snarled Phin.   “I’ll-----”

He continued to crowd in, hammering blows.  Dick parried, but did not attempt to retaliate.  The truth was, he felt secretly sorry for the fellow who had fallen as low as Phin.

But Drayne was no coward physically, when his blood was up.  It drove him to fever heat, now, to see how easily the captain of the football team repulsed him.

“I’ll get your wind going, and then I’ll hammer you for fair!” snarled Drayne.

“Mistake there, somewhere,” retorted Dick coolly.

But Drayne was coming in, harder and harder.  Dick simply had to do something.  So, after he had parried more than a score of blows the young football captain suddenly took a springy step forward, shot up Phin’s guard, and landed a staggering blow on the nose.  Phin began to reel.  Dick hit him more lightly on the chest, yet with force enough to “follow up” and send to his knees.

“Here, what’s this?” called a voice, and a heavy hand seized Dick by the collar behind, pulling him back.

It was Heathcote Drayne, Phin’s father, a powerful man, who now held Prescott.

Phin was quickly upon his feet and start forward.

From across the street sounded a warning cry, followed by footsteps.

“Now, I’ve got you!” cried Phin exultantly.  He struck, and landed, on Dick’s cheek.

“Stop that, Phin!” shouted his father, without letting go of Dick’s collar, however.  Phin, however, instead of obeying, aimed another blow, and would have landed, had not another figure bounded in and taken the blow, next hurling Phin back against a brick wall.