The referee briefly made the usual announcement about it being a fight to the finish, with two-minute rounds and two minutes between rounds.
"Time!"
As Treadwell leaped forward, both fists in battery, Dave took a swift, nimble sidestep. He felt that he had to study this big fellow carefully before doing more than keep on the defensive.
Now footwork was one of the fighting tricks for which Darry was famous. Yet he had too much courage to rely wholly upon it.
Five times Treadwell swung at his smaller opponent, but each time Dave was somewhere else.
Despite his greater size, Treadwell was himself nimble and an adept at footwork.
Finding it hard, however, to get about as quickly as his smaller opponent, the first classman soon went in for close, in-body fighting, following Dave, half-cornering him, and forcing him to stand and take it.
Two or three body blows Dave succeeded in parrying so that they glanced, doing him little harm.
Then there came an almost crunching sound. Treadwell's right fist had landed, almost dazing the youngster with its weight against his nose.
There was a swift, free rush of the red. Darrin had yielded up "first blood" in the fight.