Again they rushed; again that handsomely built youth easily avoided them. They were separated, and once more he flitted between them. Neither touched him, though both tried to do so.
Packard set his teeth and followed the fellow up once more. The athlete put his hands behind his back and stood quite still, without guarding.
Packard struck at his head. That head moved to one side with the quickness of a flash, and Packard missed.
Packard struck at the man’s body. That body leaped backward like a panther, and it was untouched.
The medical student gasped. Never in his life had he seen a man he fancied could handle himself like that.
Then Defarge came charging in, and both struck at Hawkins together. Hawkins parried the blows of one with his left hand and the blows of the other with his right. Then, with his left hand, he gave one of them a thrust, at the same time pushing the other with his right foot, and again he skipped between them and was away.
Packard stopped and said:
“He’s a wizard! Confound him! can’t we corner him, anyhow?”
But they could not, though for five minutes they did their level best. When five minutes had elapsed by the little clock on the mantel, the scar-faced athlete stopped, saying:
“The time is up. Are you satisfied?”