On Butler's face rested a broad grin. He pranced about lightly, swinging his hardmuscled arms. He intended to start with a bit of easy nonsense, putting Holmes off his guard. Then the yearling's plan was to make the affair a lesson in scientific mauling.
While Butler was dancing about, grinning, Greg, vastly more watchful than he appeared to be, suddenly let his right out in a feint, then followed with a left drive.
Butler all but struck this blow up, yet, as he darted back from the parry, the yearling tasted blood from his own lower lip. That taught him that even a despised little plebe like Mr. Holmes might have his points of danger.
"Now, stand up and let us see how good your quick counter is," laughed the yearling, dancing about.
Butler's footwork was fine and fast, but Greg, watching him, only pivoted about, putting up his hands with great speed. Thus Greg blocked all but three or four lighter blows up to the time when the time-keeper's interruption came.
"You won't need to do much in the rubbing line," whispered Greg, as his seconds started in on him in his "corner." "My man, as yet, hasn't any more than warmed me up."
"Look out for a smash on the nose, old fellow," warned Dick. "You got first blood in a half-sort of way, by that cut on the other man's lip. In this next round Mr. Butler will try to get the real first blood."
"I hope so," muttered Greg dreamily. "For that one I believe I have one of the best counters known."
Surely enough, in the beginning of the second round, Butler feinted, then led off for a hard one on the plebe's nose. But the delivery was the very one that Cadet Holmes wanted. He ducked, feinted, and slammed in just above Mr. Butler's belt with such force that the big yearling staggered. Yet Butler was a wary fighter; he blocked Greg's follow-up scheme, then fought for time. Towards the end of the round, however, Butler again tried for the plebe's nose. This time he failed again, but Greg's counter-blow landed on the point of a shoulder. Butler would have been away in another instant, but Greg's right came out of a hook and tapped the yearling emphatically on the end of his nose. As the yearling fought back furiously the blood spurted from his nose.
Then, just before time was called, Greg got his left eye too much in line with the yearling's right fist.