“Go fer his stomick, Conko!” Skeeter Butts squealed. “Hit an’ duck! It’s de best thing you kin do!”
Conko hit and ducked; and Hitch Diamond was jarred to the very marrow of his bones. A cold fury took the place of Hitch’s smile.
“Go atter him! Foller him up!” Skeeter squealed.
Conko shot a right hook at Hitch, who neatly side-stepped; then Hitch swung a terrible lefthand blow at the giant figure before him.
“Right cross—lef’ hook, Hitch—dat’ll fix him!” Prince Total barked.
Conko ducked and saved his jaw, but the blow landed on the side of his head. It was too high up to be vitally effective, but powerful enough to bring a black veil of unconsciousness across Conko’s mind. All faces vanished for a second; even Hitch Diamond disappeared; then when Hitch reappeared, Conko pecked savagely at his stomach.
Hitch panted like a winded dog; they clinched, and Hitch, with his gorilla reach, pounded his enemy over the kidneys.
“Hey, dar! Break ’em! No fair hittin’ in clinches!” the crowd of Conko backers yelled.
Vinegar Atts grinned, yanked the pair out of the clinch, and a wolflike howl rose from the crowd. Hitch Diamond had landed a mighty blow in Conko’s stomach, and the Georgia Cyclone had fallen to his knees!
Vinegar Atts began to count: