Bill Kester bounded to the center of the ring, but Dan rose methodically. Stepping slowly forward he extended his glove, grasping the hand of his opponent. No sooner had the lad dropped the hand than Kester launched a terrific blow at the Battleship Boy’s head. It missed by the narrowest margin. Dan felt the glove brush his cheek ever so lightly, but he had instinctively thrown his head to one side as he realized that it was coming his way, thereby escaping the blow.
He danced awkwardly back out of the way. Kester sprang after him, aiming blow after blow at the head of his slender antagonist. How they missed knocking the boy out the spectators were unable to say, but somehow the lad managed to escape being hit, though his awkwardness made them groan in sheer sympathy for him.
“It’s a shame. The boy doesn’t know how to fight,” cried a voice.
“Let him alone. He’s got to learn some time. One punch won’t hurt him. It will do him good.”
Sam, however, shrewdly suspected the reason for his companion’s poor showing. Dan was nervous. Sam knew that it was not because of the boy’s fear of the man before him. It was rather the consciousness that so many eyes were fixed upon him. It was a case of real stage fright.
“I hope he gets over it before it is too late. Brace up, Dan! What’s the matter with you, anyway?”
Dan heard the voice of his chum, but it sounded far away to him. He would have given almost anything could he, too, have been far away at that moment.
Bang!
The boy’s head was suddenly jolted backwards. Dan seemed to have heard his neck crack. He wondered if it were broken. Kester had gotten through his guard, but the blow had landed on Davis’s forehead. The boy sprang back, now, stepping about more quickly and skillfully, though his head swam dizzily. Bill made a rush at him. Escape seemed hopeless, for Dan was standing back against the ropes.
Dan suddenly ducked, however, under a powerful right-arm swing, and danced to the center of the ring, at which the crowd yelled and shouted their appreciation.