The two boys moved carefully to the center of the improvised ring, their guards up, while Astro stood off the edge of the mat and watched the sweeping second hand of his wrist chronograph.
Shuffling forward Tom pushed out a probing left and then tried to cross his right, but Manning stepped back easily, countering with a hard left to Tom's heart.
"I forgot to tell you, Corbett," he called out, "I'm considered a counterpuncher. I always—"
He was cut off with a sharp left to the face that snapped his head back, and his lips curled in a smile of condescension.
"Good—very good, Corbett."
Then with lightning speed and the grace of a cat, Roger slipped inside Tom's guard, punching hard and true. A left, a right and a left pounded into Tom's mid-section, and as he gave way momentarily Tom's face clouded over.
They circled. Tom kept leading with sharp lefts that popped in and out like a piston, always connecting and keeping Roger off balance. Roger concentrated on penetrating Tom's defense, methodically pounding his ribs and heart and trying to wear him down.
"Time!" bawled Astro.
The two boys dropped their hands and turned back to their corners. They squatted on the floor breathing slowly and easily. Astro stood in the middle of the ring, glaring at both of them in turn and shaking his head.
"Huh. I expected to see you two try to wallop each other into meteor dust! Keep fighting like that and we'll be here all night!"