“You’re all right, Dynamite! You’ll be a champion some day, when you wake up.”
But Bill was boxing again. The blows on his nose had enraged him beyond endurance. With a yell of rage, he charged his slender opponent, leading out his right for the lad’s face. The latter blocked the blow, side-stepping out of harm’s way, where he stood awaiting the other man’s further efforts.
“Why don’t you follow him up?” shouted Sam, who, by this time, was wildly excited. His face was flushed, and his eyes were sparkling with joy over his companion’s good showing in this round.
Dan made no effort to follow Kester up. The lad had his own ideas, and now he appeared to be fully aware of what he was doing and what he hoped to do.
Kester came back, sparring cautiously. He landed two light blows on the boy’s shoulder, which Dan returned with right and left over the heart. He seemed purposely not to have put much force into the blows. He felt that he had inflicted enough injury on his antagonist, and hoped he should have to do so no more.
The spirit of battle had taken full possession of Kester, however. He was determined to knock his young opponent out. He was exerting every effort to that end.
All at once, in a rapid exchange of blows, the big man clinched, throwing his full weight on Dan’s shoulders, with the evident intention of tiring the boy out.
“Break!” cried the referee.
Kester dropped one hand to his side, the other remaining on Dan’s shoulder. Like a flash the big man’s right came up with a terrific hook on the boy’s jaw. It laid Dan flat on the floor some distance away.
“Foul!” roared the crowd. “He struck in the clinch.”