"It ought to be stopped." As the two sparred Dick suddenly saw his chance to get in under the powerful guard of his antagonist and landed a hard blow on his solar plexus.
"Umph!" grunted Miller, as he partly doubled up under the force of the blow.
That instant was enough for Prescott to drive in a blow that nearly closed one of the big fellow's eyes.
"Stop this fight!" yelled the same citizen.
"Don't you do it!" warned another.

"The boy is taking care of himself all right.

Let him wind the bruiser up." Now Miller, smarting and fearing accidental defeat, forgot caution and tried to rush in for a clinch.

But this was the kind of attack that Prescott was skilled in dodging.
Dick gave ground before the furious assault, but he did so purposely.
Back he went, step by step.
"Miller's got him!" cheered the liquor seller's friends.
At last Dick found what he wanted, the opportunity to drive in again on the big fellow's wind.

Miller gave vent to another grunt, followed by a howl, as he felt a stinging fist land against his other eye.
Now, Dick had his man blinded, ready for the finish.