“You may find it more difficult than you think. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” said Packard.
“Ready,” said Defarge.
“Then come at me, and make it as hot as you like.”
They accepted the invitation, both springing forward. He was away before them, dancing to one side, quickly leading them to separate. Then, like a flash, he flitted between them.
Both struck at him—and missed!
He laughed in their faces. Packard followed him up closely and struck again and again. The wonderful youth of the scarred face parried or dodged every blow. But Defarge came rushing in, and they seemed to have the fellow cornered. Then, quick as a flash, Hawkins placed one foot against Packard’s breast and gave him a push that flung him with a heavy thud to the floor. Defarge was tripped up and sent sprawling over Packard, and the athlete stood back, his arms folded, a chuckling laugh escaping his lips.
Packard got up, uttering words of mingled anger and wonder. Why, it seemed utterly impossible to corner the fellow! Roland vowed he’d not be caught again by that foot-trick.
Defarge was up.
“Now!” cried Packard, “both together!”