ange, but at least during this round Clancy rushed no more.
They were both landing freely now, Jerry apparently willing to take
his share of punishment in order to make a good showing. I heard Jack
Ballard muttering at my ear. This was a mistake; I wondered if Flynn
knew it. With his skill, Jerry could have kept away and cut the man to
ribbons. But he was no slacker; this was no boxing tournament, as
Jerry afterwards explained, but a fight, which meant pugnacity as well
as skill.

But the crowd appreciated his efforts. They were ring followers and
knew "science" when they saw it, but more than skill they loved "sand"
and more than "sand," aggressiveness. With the beginning of the
seventh round the honors had all been with Jerry. He had scored the
first blood and the first knock-down and Clancy's rushes had proved
unavailing. The professional's lip was swollen, one eye was nearly
closed, and his ribs were crimson from the terrible beating Jerry had
given them. Though his face was not so badly punished as Clancy's,
Jerry had not gotten off unscathed. He was grim, determined, and cuts
at the lip and eyes made him no handsomer than he should have been.
But he was breathing more easily than Clancy, and, though he had lost
much of his speed, he still seemed able to avoid his opponent at will
and to hold him off with his straight left arm. Six rounds in which
science had been more than a match for all Clancy's bull strength and
ring experience! That in itself was something of an achievement, but
Jerry was still further to show his strength, for in this seventh
round Clancy went to the floor twice, the first time by a clean blow
to the jaw through a beautiful opening that Jerry planned
deliberately, feinting for the body, bringing a lead which Jerry
half-ducked and then side stepped, throwing all the weight of his body
into a blow with his right, timed and aimed with beautiful precision.

The crowd were on their feet, silent. They thought that the end had
come, for at the call of _three_ Clancy had not moved, Flynn and
Spatola were already above the level of the ring clinging to the ropes
and Jerry stood breathing heavily, his arms at his sides watching the
prostrate man. At the count of _six_ Clancy was on one elbow, _eight_
found him on his knees struggling to his feet. He swayed a little, but
rose and fell into a clinch which saved him. The referee tore the men
apart and Jerry at once assumed the aggressive, making the wear