“Stop! Stop the fight,” shouted Cokeson, and as they backed from each other he inquired with anger and reproach in his voice:—
“Is this a friendly boxing-contest or a vulgar fight?” adding, “Get to your corners and when Time is called, shake hands and then begin.”
Turning to the audience he continued in a lordly and injured manner: “And there is only one Referee, gentlemen, please. Keep silence or I shall stop the fight—I mean—the friendly boxing contest.”
As Dam sat down Delorme whispered:—
“Splendid! _In_fighting is your tip. Duck and go for the body every time. He knows nothing of boxing I should say. Tire him—and remember that if he gets you with a swing like that you’re out.”
“Seconds out of the ring. Time!” called the time-keeper and Dam walked towards Harberth with outstretched hand, met him in the middle of the ring and shook hands with great repugnance. As Harberth’s hand left Dam’s it rose swiftly to Dam’s face and knocked him down.
“Shame! Foul poke! Coward,” were some of the indignant cries that arose from the spectators.
“Silence,” roared the referee. “Will you shut up and be quiet. Perfectly legitimate—if not very sporting.”
Dam sprang to his feet, absolutely unhurt, and, if possible, more determined than ever. It was only because he had been standing with feet together that he had been knocked down at all. Had he been given time to get into sparring position the blow would not have moved him. Nor was Harberth himself in an attitude to put much weight behind the blow and it was more a cuff than a punch.
Circling round his enemy, Dam sparred for an opening and watched his style and methods.