now on the
other's body, now a round right-hander on his side or the small of his
back. In the end they grappled, wrestled, and rolled over together, and
were then helped by their seconds to their respective corners. Saurin's
face was still untouched, but he puffed and panted for breath, and
seemed to feel the effect of the body blows.

"That is capital," said Buller to Crawley; "stick to that for the
present, he will soon begin to tire."

"Why, Buller, you seem to be quite up to this sort of thing!" said
Robarts in surprise.

"My elder brother went in for the Queensbury cups, and is always talking
about boxing and fighting: that's how I know," replied Buller quietly.

"And that is why you wished to be my second?" asked Crawley, who, though
his face was a pitiable object, was perfectly cool and self-possessed,
and not a bit blown or tired.

"Yes," replied Buller; and "Time!" was again called.

The mass of the spectators looked upon the fight as won by Saurin
already, and all the cheering was for him now. This opinion was further
strengthened presently, for Crawley, seeing his antagonist panting,
thought that at last he might get on equal terms with him, and rushed in
to fight at close quarters, but he was met by a straight blow from
Saurin's left fist right between the eyes, which knocked him fairly down
on the broad of his back, where he lay quite dazed for a moment, till
Robarts and Buller assisted him to his corner. The cheering and the
cries of "Bravo, Saurin!" "Well hit, Saurin!" were loud and long; many
thought that Crawley would not come up again. But though puffed about
both eyes, and with a considerably swollen nose, Crawley was soon all
right again, and as lively as when he began.

"If I only could mark him!" he said to his seconds. "It is so absurd to
see him with his face untouched."

"Wait a bit," replied Buller. "Keep on pegging at his body and
wrestling; I'll tell you when to go for his face. He is getting weaker
for all that hit last round."

This was true, for Saurin's blows, though they got home, had no longer
the force they had at first. In one round, after a severe struggle, he
threw Crawley heavily, but the exertion told more upon himself than upon
the one thrown. And he began to flinch from the body blows, and keep
his hands down. Loafing, beer-drinking, and smoking began to tell their
tale, in fact, and at last Buller said, "Now you may try to give him one
or two in the face