"Then go to it," Captain Allerson announced, and involuntarily stepped back a couple of paces as the two men began sparring around for an opening. In another instant it became apparent that this was to be no child's play. It was the cruelest sort of a fight that can be had—with bare knuckles.
Biff! Henryson landed the first blow, but only a glancing one, across Andy's shoulder. It seemed to have needed that and only that to touch off the spark of fury in the usually good-natured Andy Flures.
Like a whirlwind he came at his antagonist, his arms working like irresistible pistons, and so rapidly that even the onlookers could hardly count the blows. They landed on Henryson's face, head, body and stomach. But he was no weakling, nor was Andy endowed with the stamina to keep up such a ferocious attack indefinitely. If nothing else, neither he nor any other man had the lung power to keep up the breath necessary for such an onslaught.
Like a Whirlwind he came at his Antagonist.
Realizing that he might be wearing himself down too early in the struggle, Andy slowed up. Henryson, mistaking this for a weakening, and being somewhat fresher, though badly battered, by having been entirely on the defensive, tried to rush. Andy deftly stepped aside, and Henryson staggered to the opposite side of the ring before he regained his balance.
As he did so Andy came at him again. The brief respite seemed to have given him renewed strength and determination. He landed a blow on Henryson's chest with his left, and almost at the same instant broke down the latter's defense and landed on his nose with his right.
The jolt of the two terrific impacts, and the spurt of blood which followed the second, sent Henryson into a blind and impotent rage. He attempted Andy's rushing tactics and came to an abrupt halt on a right hand jab that sent him reeling out of the ring.
"Get back there and fight, you yellow pup," growled Captain Allerson, at the same time giving the badly battered Henryson a vicious shove.