The calm statement, authoritatively made, caused Joan to scream.
“Now, young sir, be on your guard. This is a fight regardless of Marquis of Queensbury rules.”
Epworth was considerably astonished at the agile rapidity with which the giant sprang forward. His movements were graceful and as lithe as a panther. But the American was ready for him. He had been taught boxing and wrestling by skilled men. He waited like a post until Billy Sand, watching with feverish excitement, shouted:
“Snap into it, kid. For the love of Mike, snap into it! You’re fighting for your life!”
Still he waited until the giant was at his elbow; then he dodged with seeming lack of haste beneath Toplinsky’s extended arms, and planted a heavy jab into the man’s stomach. Then he turned his eyes on Billy, and nodded. He was pleased to see Billy still alive.
But Toplinsky’s stomach was cast iron and copper bottomed, and just a slight hesitation flickered across his face. Epworth paled slightly. He had to subdue this man by constant, steady, repeated body blows. To strike him on the head, was like butting into a brick wall with his fist, and the first blow indicated that the soft portions of Toplinsky’s body were as hard as his head.
Toplinsky whirled like an automaton, and rushed with clenched hands. If he landed his blow Epworth would be knocked cold. But it seemed as if Epworth did not see his danger.
“Hey, kid!” Billy howled. “Look out for that John L. rush.”
Billy’s voice was instantly checked by a guard who put his hand over his mouth and jabbed a gun into his side. Epworth, however, caught the feeling of sympathy, and waved his hand. It did him good to know that Billy was at hand to cheer him.
But he did not need the warning.