Part 33 (1/2)

”I don't know. I guess I needed that punch. It made my head swim, but it woke me up. I'll do better this time.”

”Give him a punch in the plexus, Bill,” advised one of the latter's seconds. ”He doesn't guard himself there at all.”

”Never mind. I've got the fellow's measure,” answered the bully. ”It will all be finished up and done to a turn before we end the second round.”

”Time!” summoned the referee.

Kester sprang into the ring full of confidence, but Dan, to the surprise of everyone, sat calmly in his chair. Kester hesitated, a triumphant gleam appearing in his eyes. Suddenly he made a rush at his opponent's corner, and all at once the Battles.h.i.+p Boy leaped to his feet. His right fist shot out and then his left. Both blows landed squarely on his adversary's sore nose, bringing two plainly audible grunts from the big man.

Kester threw one hand to his nose. As he did so, Dan planted a swift, powerful blow, this time in his adversary's stomach. The force of it sent Bill staggering half way across the ring.

The spectators fairly yelled themselves hoa.r.s.e.

”You're all right, Dynamite! You'll be a champion some day, when you wake up.”

But Bill was boxing again. The blows on his nose had enraged him beyond endurance. With a yell of rage, he charged his slender opponent, leading out his right for the lad's face. The latter blocked the blow, side-stepping out of harm's way, where he stood awaiting the other man's further efforts.

”Why don't you follow him up?” shouted Sam, who, by this time, was wildly excited. His face was flushed, and his eyes were sparkling with joy over his companion's good showing in this round.

Dan made no effort to follow Kester up. The lad had his own ideas, and now he appeared to be fully aware of what he was doing and what he hoped to do.

Kester came back, sparring cautiously. He landed two light blows on the boy's shoulder, which Dan returned with right and left over the heart.

He seemed purposely not to have put much force into the blows. He felt that he had inflicted enough injury on his antagonist, and hoped he should have to do so no more.

The spirit of battle had taken full possession of Kester, however. He was determined to knock his young opponent out. He was exerting every effort to that end.

All at once, in a rapid exchange of blows, the big man clinched, throwing his full weight on Dan's shoulders, with the evident intention of tiring the boy out.

”Break!” cried the referee.

Kester dropped one hand to his side, the other remaining on Dan's shoulder. Like a flash the big man's right came up with a terrific hook on the boy's jaw. It laid Dan flat on the floor some distance away.

”Foul!” roared the crowd. ”He struck in the clinch.”

”Time!” announced the referee. The three minutes were ended.

”It's a foul. Give the fight to the boy,” shouted the jackies, jumping about excitedly, with difficulty restraining themselves from leaping into the ring and inflicting quick punishment on the bully who had committed the foul.

Kester had taken his corner, but when he saw the temper of the spectators he grew ill at ease.

Dan, in the meantime, had been dragged to his own corner by Hickey, who was now using every effort to bring his companion back to consciousness.

This he soon succeeded in doing. Though Dan was dizzy and trembling, he smiled bravely.

”You win the fight on a foul,” announced the referee.

Davis shook his head.

”You do not wish to claim the foul?”