Frank Merriwell's First Job, Or, At the Foot of the Ladder

Excerpt: 'Biff—thump! “Oh, what a soaker!” “Go at him, Rattleton!” “Don’t let him knock you up against the door like that.” Biff! biff!—thump! “There you go again!” “Oh, jose your claw—I mean close your jaw!” panted Harry Rattleton, as he ducked and escaped a left-hand swing from Frank Merriwell, with whom he was boxing in the room of the latter at Yale. “You fellows are not in this!” “You’re not in it, either,” lazily laughed Bruce Browning, who was half sitting, half reclining on the couch, watching the boxing bout and smoking a pipe at the same time. “Well, you weren’t such a much when you got up against Merriwell that time you tried to do him,” snapped Rattleton, backing out as Frank slowly followed him up. “That’s ancient history,” declared the big fellow. “But Merriwell found me a pretty warm baby!” “Get up and try him now!” cried Harry. “I’ll bet he’ll bang you all over the room before you touch him.” “Thanks!” grinned Bruce. “I’ve quit the ring. I’m not looking for pugilistic glory any more.” “Stand up to him, Rattleton,” advised Diamond. “You do too much running away.” “Oh, you know!” flung back Rattleton. “You’ve had your turn, too, and you wasn’t so good.” “You can’t do anything with him if you don’t try to hit him,” said Bart Hodge, who was sitting astride a chair in the corner. “More thanks! If you’ll put the gloves on, I’ll guarantee you will not hit him any oftener than I have. I believe he gave you a dose of medicine once on a time. I’m the only fellow in the room who hasn’t been punched in earnest by him. You chaps are good talkers, but—— No you don’t.” Then he went under Frank’s arm like a cat, giving Merry a sharp jab in the ribs.'