But Jack did not listen. He had always fought with people bigger and older than himself. But he had never before had this strange lust dancing in his blood, the lust of rage dancing for its consummation in blows. He had known it before, as a sort of game. But now the lust bit into his very soul, and he was quivering with accumulated desire, the desire to hit Easu hard, hit him till he knocked him out. He wanted to hit him till he knocked him out.
And he knew himself deficient in brute power. So he must make up in quickness and skill and concentration. When he did strike it must be a fine keen blow that went deep. He had confidence in his power to do it. Only—and this was the disturbing element—he knew there was not much time. And he would rather be knocked out himself than have the fight spoiled in the middle.
He moved lightly and led Easu on, ducked, bobbed up again, and began to be consummately happy. Easu could not get at him.
"Come on!" said Easu thickly.
So suddenly he came on, and bang! bang! went his knuckles against that insulting chin. And he felt joy spring in his bowels.
But he did not escape without punishment. Pat!—butt! Pat!—butt! went Easu's swinging blows down over his back. But Jack got in two more: Bang! Bang! He knew by the exquisite pain of his knuckles that he had struck deep, pierced the marrow of the other with pain of defeat.
Pat—butt! Pat—butt! came the punishment.
But Jack was out again, dancing softly, electric joy in his bowels. Then suddenly he sprang back at Easu, his arms swinging in strange, vindictive sideways swoops. Ping! Pong! Ping! Pong! rapid as lightning. Easu fell back a little dazed before this sudden rain of white blows, but Jack followed, followed, followed, nimbly, warily, but with deadly, flickering intent.
Crash! Easu went down, but caught Jack a heavy smash in the face with his right as he fell. Jack reeled away.
And then, posed, waiting, watching, with blood running from bruised cuts on his swelling face, one eye rapidly closing, he stood well forward, fists in true boxing trim, and a deep gratification of joy in his dark belly.