Garrieau drove heavily at his elusive foe and missed. The impetus swung him to one side. For an instant his chin was without the protecting shelter of his shoulder. With a bewilderingly swift move Donald stepped forward, pivoted on his toes, and with the full weight of his powerful young body behind it, he whipped his right to the champion’s unprotected jaw. Plop! Garrieau fell upon his face and sprawled like a baboon on the floor. Donald walked to his corner, thrust his gloved hands towards Andy, who stood as though paralyzed, and said; “Take them off, Andy.” His voice was audible throughout the arena. The referee rushed to Donald’s side and raised his arm aloft in token of victory.
With a roar the crowd came to its senses to realize that the fight was over. Pandemonium broke loose. A struggling mass of humanity surged into the ring. Every man wanted to shake hands with the new champion. Garrieau, the possessor of the “punch” they had so much admired, was forgotten. The king is dead—long live the king! Such is life, especially in the boxing game!
CHAPTER V
With much difficulty Donald and his friends forced their way through the cheering throng to the dressing-room. Weak and tired, Donald lay on a cot, while his handlers gently massaged his sore body. Andy moved to the cot and stood looking down on his protégé.
Donald opened his eyes. “Hello, Andy, he smiled weakly.
“Hello, Donnie,” said Andy huskily, as he patted Donald’s dark head.
Donald’s hand stole out to meet the warm clasp of his friend.
“Some little fight,” said Andy, summoning a smile.
“Not bad,” agreed Donald.
Gillis pulled his hat brim down over his eyes to hide his emotion. “I’ve a good mind to go out and give that brute another lickin’,” he growled.