“Time!”

“That’s the b.j.-est skeeter I ever saw,” grinned Nelson, as he sprayed water over Dennison’s biceps.

“You quit, Nelse!”

“All right.  Don’t get mad at me.  Just catch Prescott on your face and mash him!”

Again the men were called to the center of the room.  They eyed each other, “measured arms” in a few useless passes, then settled down to business.

On Dick’s part that business was to dodge about as before, touching lightly here and there.  Dennison’s effort was to swing in one hard, sufficient blow.

Just thirty-five seconds from the start of the round Dick found his opportunity, and took it.  His right smashed in fearfully on the end of the big fellow’s jaw bone, just under the ear.

Bump!  Dennison’s big, muscular body hit the floor like the falling of a tree.  Maitland counted, for he knew the big fellow couldn’t rise in ten seconds after a blow like that.

“Nine, ten,” finished the time-keeper, and dropped his watch into his pocket.

“I award the fight to Mr. Prescott,” announced Packard.  “Now, what are we going to do with this big hulk?”

That was a problem.  It would hardly do to take another cadet to hospital that night.  Anyway Dennison would need a stretcher, and four cadets to carry him, for he still lay on the floor in a stupor, from which the usual methods of reviving a man after a knockout failed to bring him.

It was just ten minutes before taps when Dennison was finally brought around and helped to his feet.

“Where’s Prescott?” asked Dennison, after he had gulped down a glass of water.

“Here,” answered Dick, stepping forward.

“Prescott, I don’t suppose I’m very clear headed yet,” rambled on Dennison.  “But I want to apologize for my words this afternoon.  And—–­I’m glad you whacked me right tonight.  Perhaps I’ll really learn something from it.  But my apologies, anyway.”

“Say no more,” begged Dick, tendering his hand.  “It is all forgotten.”

Dick received hasty congratulations from the late officials of the fights.  Then they, and Prescott and his friends, disappeared quickly to quarters.  Dennison was helped to his room.  When the subdivision inspectors went through with their bulls-eye lanterns immediately after taps, they found all present save Cadet Albert Dodge.

Dodge passed a painful couple of hours until opiates won out and he passed into drugged sleep.

In one respect Dodge got far less out of the fight than had Dennison.  Bert had not even learned, convincingly, that Prescott was a man to let alone.

CHAPTER XX

A DISCOVERY AT THE RIDING DRILL

Having once got a hard gait in mathematics, Dick went steadily on and up until he reached one of the middle sections.  There he stopped.  It was as high as he could go, with all this competition from the brightest young men in the country.