The two men faced each other. And then the stocky, swarthy Braun swung at Haney. The blow had sting in it but nothing more. It almost looked as if Braun were trying to work himself up to the fight he’d insisted on finishing. Haney countered with a roundhouse blow that glanced off Braun’s cheek. And then they bore in at each other, slugging without science or skill.
Joe watched. Braun launched a blow that hurt, but Haney sent him reeling back. He came in doggedly again, and swung and swung, but he had no idea of boxing. His only idea was to slug. He did slug. Haney had been peevish rather than angry. Now he began to glower. He began to take the fight to Braun.
He knocked Braun down. Braun staggered up and rushed. A wildly flailing fist landed on Haney’s ear. He doubled Braun up with a wallop to the midsection. Braun came back, fists swinging.
Haney closed one eye for him. He came back. Haney shook him from head to foot with a chest blow. He came back. Haney split his lip and loosened a tooth. He came back.
The Chief said sourly: “This ain’t a fight. Quit it, Haney! He don’t know how!”
Haney tried to draw away, but Braun swarmed on him, striking fiercely until Haney had to floor him again. He dragged himself up and rushed at Haney—and was knocked down again. Haney stood over him, panting furiously.
“Quit it, y’fool! What’s the matter with you?”
Braun started to get up again. The Chief interfered and held him, while Haney glared.
“He ain’t going to fight any more, Braun,” pronounced the Chief firmly. “You ain’t got a chance. This fight’s over. You had enough.”
Braun was bloody and horribly battered, but he panted: “He’s got enough?”