him. Hit at his body too, we'll take care of his frontispiece by
and by."

Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw already that he couldn't go
in and finish the Slogger off at mere hammer and tongs, so changed his
tactics completely in the third round. He now fights cautious, getting
away from and parrying the Slogger's lunging hits, instead of trying to
counter, and leading his enemy a dance all round the ring after him.
"He's funking; go in, Williams," "Catch him up," "Finish him off,"
scream the small boys of the Slogger party.

"Just what we want," thinks East, chuckling to himself, as he sees
Williams, excited by these shouts, and thinking the game in his own
hands, blowing himself in his exertions to get to close quarters again,
while Tom is keeping away with perfect ease.

They quarter over the ground again and again, Tom always on the
defensive.

The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly blown.

"Now then, Tom," sings out East, dancing with delight. Tom goes in in a
twinkling, and hits two heavy body blows, and gets away again before the
Slogger can catch his wind; which when he does he rushes with blind fury
at Tom, and being skilfully parried and avoided, over-reaches himself
and falls on his face, amidst terrific cheers from the School-house
boys.

"Double your two to one?" says Groove to Rattle, note-book in hand.

"Stop a bit," says that hero, looking uncomfortably at Williams, who is
puffing away on his second's knee, winded enough, but little the worse
in any other way.

After another round the Slogger too seems to see that he can't go in and
win right off, and has met his match or thereabouts. So he too begins to
use his head, and tries to make Tom lose patience and come in before his
time. And so the fight sways on, now one, and now the other, getting a
trifling pull.

Tom's face begins to look very one-sided--there are little queer bumps
on his forehead, and his mouth is bleeding; but East keeps the wet
sponge going so scientifically, that he comes up looking as fresh and
bright as ever. Williams is only slightly marked in the face, but by the
nervous movement of his elbows you can see that Tom's body blows are
telling. In fact, half the vice of the Slogger's hitting is neutralized,
for he daren't lunge out freely for fear of exposing his sides. It is
too interesting by this time for much shouting, and the whole ring is
very quiet.

"All right, Tommy," whispers East; "hold on's