Within five minutes after that both men were ready and faced each other. The word was given.
"Now, Mr. Touge," warned Henley, "guard that striking face of yours!"
"Oh, I don't do any striking with my face," retorted Dave dryly.
"I do all my killing with my hands."
"Stop that one," urged Henley, feinting cleverly with his left, then following it up with a right hand crusher.
Dave stopped both blows neatly enough, then sidestepped and passed over a fist that grazed Mr. Henley's face.
"I just wanted to find out where your face is," mocked Darrin.
"Talk less and fight more, Mr. Touge!" warned the referee.
"Very good, sir," Dave retorted. "But it's going to be hard on
Mr. Henley."
"Bah!" sneered Henley. "Woof!"
The latter exclamation followed when Dave's fist cut Henley's lip a bit. But that indignity stirred the first class man to swifter, keener efforts. He failed to score heavily on the fourth class man, however; but, just before the call time for the first round Henley's nose stopped a blow from Darrin's fist, and first class blood began to flow.