Kid Whaley, shifty as he was, had been unable to stem the tide of Bill's rushing assault. A right caught him on the tin ear, and he went down. He was on his feet in a flash. Another right caught him, and he went down again. This time he lingered for a second or two. When he got up Bill managed to land a left on the jaw. Down went the Kid. But he was game. Once more he got to his feet.
There was a shrill call from Aunt Caroline, who was now dancing on the chair.
"William, remember that you are a Marshall!"
Bill remembered.
The Kid went down. He got up. He went down. He got up. He went down—and stayed.
Bill Marshall stepped back and surveyed his work grimly. Two young men in jerseys came slinking forth from a corner and moved toward the prostrate warrior. Bill greeted the nearest with a critical inspection.
"Are you one of his seconds?" he asked.
"Uhuh."
Bill calmly let fly a punch that knocked him over two chairs.