There were to be five short rounds with MacGregor keeping time.
At the very beginning, Johnny discovered that his opponent was fast and skillful. Having no sons, Red McGee had taken it upon himself to train his daughter in the manly art of boxing. Life on the bleak Alaskan shore was often dull. The girl had welcomed each new lesson. And now Johnny was discovering that her punches that from time to time reached his cheek or chin, were far from love pats. They really stung, nor, try as he would, could he entirely escape them.
“She’s taking it out on me because of her father,” he thought grimly. “Well, I can take it.”
What did the audience think of this affair? Who could tell? They watched in silence. Once when Rusty was tossed into their midst they helped her to her feet and pushed her into place. Their movements were so gentle, the flitting smiles about their lips so friendly, that, for the moment, the girl forgot her role and said, “Thank you.”
The rounds passed speedily. When the fourth and last was up, Johnny said in a whisper, “Come on, Rusty, let’s make this one snappy. Give them a real show.”
Snappy it was. From the moment MacGregor gave them the signal they whipped into it with a wild swinging of gloves. Rusty’s footwork was perfect. Johnny found himself admiring the manner in which, hornet-like, she leaped at him for a sharp, stinging blow, then faded away.
Perhaps he was admiring her too much. However that might be, in the last thirty seconds of the bout he stepped into something. Trying for a bit of reprisal in the way of a tap on her chin, he left an opening far too wide. Rusty’s eyes opened wide, her stout right arm shot out and up. It took Johnny squarely under the chin and, “believe it or not,” he went down and out like a match.
He was not out long, perhaps eight seconds. When at last his stubborn eyelids opened he found himself looking at a circle of grinning brown men and at Rusty who stood staring at him, but not smiling at all.
“Well,” he laughed, “that must square the McGee’s with Johnny Thompson.”
“John—Johnny, please!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to. I truly didn’t.”