In the second round they clinched, and when the consul called on them to break away Hans fairly threw Noyes from him.
"He'll lick him yet," said Johnson, and now Noyes had to defend himself. Any one of Hans's blows would have killed a cow if it had fairly landed. The skipper, half in despair, hit at his opponent's head, and got there. He stopped Hans, but was jarred to the shoulder. When he recovered he landed, and Hans went down to rise again like a fives ball on a hard court, and though Noyes jabbed him again and again straight in the face, he never left any mark or blood behind him. And every blow of the Finn's came nearer, quicker, more fiercely. Time was called in time to save the captain.
"I believe he'll do me," said Noyes.
"I believe it, too," said Bragg. It was not an encouraging remark to get from one's second, and Noyes felt hurt. While he was sitting on Bragg's knee Hans was walking round feeling his arms and talking.
"Ya, ya, I lick him goot," he said. "I lick him goot."
And now he was warm and like a flail. Both arms were equally good; he went at his man round arm, and missed him ten times by a mere shave. In the middle of the round Noyes, who knew he was going, worked his glove off in a close rally, and before the consul could intervene he struck Hans full in the face with his bare fist. It was a timed blow that ought to have stopped a rhinoceros, and Hans threw his head up, as the consul jumped in.
"Nein, nein," cried Hans, "take de oder off. I fight him so. I fight goot now."
And so he did, for though the glove was put on again, there was no sign of his having been hit, and Noyes's right hand was useless. A left-hander finished it, and Noyes went off his feet. When he came to he was tired and weary and found himself in the hospital with a bandaged jaw.
"I tell you there's always suthin' queer about a Finn," said the crowd. "It took brass to draw blood from him, now didn't it?"
And the man from Abo was paid off.