That his comrades believed him a master of the fistic art was evinced by their cries:
"Finish him up quickly."
"Let him stay a couple of rounds."
"No; one round's enough."
The Frenchman rushed, evidently having decided to finish the fight as quickly as possible. His expression showed that he had no doubt of his ability to polish off the Englishman and of his superiority as a boxer.
Jack met the first rush calmly, and with a slight smile on his face. His guard was perfect and not a blow reached him. The Frenchman landed blow after blow upon Jack's arms, with which the lad covered first his face and then his body.
Frank, having a knowledge of boxing, realized that he was witnessing a defense that was indeed remarkable, and muttered happily to himself. But to the rest of the spectators it appeared that their idol was hitting his man at will, and they continued to encourage him with low words, at the same time hurling epithets at Jack.
So far Jack had not attempted to strike a blow; nor had he given ground. He had presented a perfect defense to his opponent, who danced rapidly about him, striking from this side and that. The round ended, and still Jack had not offered at his opponent.
The Frenchman himself, however, skillful boxer that he was, was not deceived. He realized, as he rested in his corner, that he had met a foeman worthy of the best he had to offer. As yet, though, he had no means of telling what the lad had in store for an attack of his own; but he realized that Jack's defense was well-nigh perfect.
Therefore, when they advanced to the middle of the ring for the second round, he was more wary, for he had no mind to let Jack slip over a hard blow through carelessness. Suddenly Jack led with his right, then made as if to land with his left. The Frenchman threw up his arm to guard the latter blow, and Jack's right, which had not been checked—the feint with the left having made the desired opening—caught the Frenchman flush on the nose.