He was watching, cat-like, for Ripley's style of attack.

That style was a good one, from the "scientific" view-point, if Ripley could maintain it without excitement and all the while keep his wind.
But would he?
The freshman, though not much of a lover of fighting, had made some study of the art.

Moreover, Dick had a dogged coolness that went far in the arena.
Suddenly, Dick let go such a seemingly careless shoulder blow with his left, straight for Ripley's face, that Fred almost lazily threw up his right arm to stop it.

But to have that right out of the way was just what Prescott was playing for.

Quick as thought Dick's right flew out, colliding with Ripley's mid-wind with a force that brought a groan from the taller fighter.