It seemed to Billy that Harcourt disappeared into a mist. There was a thud and a great roar of voices and the sounds of clapping.
"Stand back!" said a warning voice at the ring-side, and somewhere, apparently in the distance, another voice was counting the deliberate seconds:
"… Five! Six! Seven!"
The angry mist cleared away and revealed Harcourt sprawling on the ground. He was leaning over on both hands, striving gallantly to rise.
"… Eight! Nine!"
The white figure with the green sash was on hands and knees, swaying——
The gong rang. Down and out!
The referee glanced from one judge to the other and raised a little red flag from the table.
"Red wins!" he shouted.
Unconscious of the deafening applause Billy bent down and slipped an arm under his friend's shoulders. All the savage fighting blood in him had suddenly cooled, and there was only pity and love for Harcourt in his heart as he helped him to his feet.