elling his seconds.

"Yu' got that, didn't you?" he demanded, again from the corner of his
mouth. "Flush on the chin I took it. And it never made me blink. Hit?
He couldn't dent cream cheese. If I'd ever a'ripped one into him like
that I'd a'torn away half his lid. Watch this, now--watch this, because
it's going to be good!"

And it was from his viewpoint and from the viewpoint of the partisan
spectators. At the bell's call Holliday rushed across the ring, guard
wide, gloves flailing. It was a spectacular rush, but Perry eluded him
easily and slipped agilely away. Holliday whirled and blundered after
him. Perry ducked under his swinging arms and danced again into the
open. And then Holliday staged it, the scene which was going to be good.

Abruptly he ceased to pursue. He stopped and stood flat-footed in the
middle of the ring, hands hanging idle at his hips, scowling after his
opponent.

"Hey, you!" he bellowed, so loudly that his voice reached the rafters.
"Wat t'ell do yu' think this is--puss-in-the-corner? Cut out the
marathon, and come on and fight."

Indeed it was good; it was one of those dearly desired comedy moments
which Holliday knew would grow epic in the re-telling. Holliday was a
good showman. There were more cat-calls, more jeers, and cries of,
"Yellow--yellow!"

And then Holliday went after him--and the house went mad. He blundered
no longer in his pursuit, no longer played to the crowd. Like a blast of
vengeance he struck Perry, enveloped him, smothered him in a fury of
blows.

Perry tried to get away and couldn't get away. From the center of the
ring to the ropes he was battered, staggering. He went down, and
struggled up. And went down again.

He made no attempt to strike back, nor would that have availed him much.
Holliday had tested his strength and was contemptuous of it. Holliday
was boring in and in with crushing blows that tore past glove and guard.

The house was now a screaming, tossing bedlam, the ring a welter. He
heard English barking at him. Cover up! He was covered up. Blam! He
dropped and rolled away and came again erect. And blam! He _was_
covered up, as much as any man could cover. And then a glove sank into
the pit of his stomach and doubled him over, sickened him, racked him
with white-hot pain.

He got away again. Fight? They were shouting at him to fight. Did they
think he wasn't fighting? He was fighting with brain and heart and body
to