“Now that you find that you can reach ’im easily with your left, watch me for signals. If I see that ’e’s openin’ up, I’ll give you the sign to shoot your left with all you ’ave. If he swings again with ’is left, try for ’is bread basket. You understand me, Donnie?”
“Easiest thing I’ve picked yet,” chuckled the champion as he came to his corner.
“He may be stalling,” cautioned his evil-faced manager.
“Huh!” grunted the champion. “I can take all he has in dat left and never feel it. I’m goin’ to open up on him de last part of de next round.”
The gong rang for the second round.
Donald caught a glimpse of Pursell’s face as he crouched in the opposite corner. Such a look of vicious hate shot from his one gleaming eye that Donald shivered.
The rough element began to boo Donald for his running tactics. Some fans feel that they are cheated out of the price of admission unless they can witness the spectacle of two boxers slugging toe to toe until one goes down. Science counts for nothing with this small minority.
“Whadda ya think this is, a marathon?” they shouted.
“Powder-puff punch!” derided another.
Garrieau suddenly tore in, letting loose a terrific right that would have stopped the bout right then if it had landed. From a clinch Donald looked to his corner. Andy went through the pantomime of shooting a straight left. Donald nodded.