Dave Darrin quickly proved to be so full of vigor that Treadwell lay back on the defensive after the first two or three passes. Dave followed him right up with vim.
Yet, for the first forty seconds of the round no real damage was done on either side. Then:
Bump!
"O-o-oh!"
That cry came simultaneously from Treadwell and from all the spectators.
Dave's right fist had landed crushingly on the top classman's left eye, almost instantly closing that organ.
Darrin leaped nimbly back, both from a chivalrous impulse to give Treadwell a chance to recover his steadiness and to save himself from any sudden rush and clinch by his big opponent.
But Treadwell, standing with his guard up, showed no inclination to follow the one who had just given him such punishment.
"Mix it up, gentlemen—mix it!" called Midshipman Edgerton impatiently.
At that command from the referee Dave Darrin sprang forward.