Whereupon Ravenslee sprang
to the centre of the ring, and once again the air resounded with tramp
of feet and pant of breath. Twice Ravenslee staggers beneath Joe's
mighty left, but watchful ever and having learned much, Ravenslee keeps
away, biding his time--ducks a swing, sidesteps a drive, and blocking a
vicious hook--smacks home his long left to Joe's ribs, rocks him with a
swinging uppercut, drives in a lightning left and right, and Joe goes
down with a crash.
Even while the Old Un stared in wide-eyed, gaping amaze, Joe was on his
feet again, serene and calm as ever, only his great chest laboured
somewhat, but Ravenslee shook his head.
"I guess that'll be about enough, Joe," said he.
"Guv," cried the Old Un, seizing Ravenslee's right hand, boxing glove
and all, and shaking it to and fro, "you're a credit to us, you do us
bloomin' proud--strike me pink, ye do! 'Ere 's Joe 'ammered you an'
'ammered you--look at your bloomin' chest--lumme! 'Ere 's Joe been
knockin' ye down an' knockin' ye down, an' you comin' up smilin' for
more an' gettin' it--'ere's Joe been a-poundin' of ye all over the ring,
yet you can finish strong an' speedy enough to put Joe down--blimy, Guv,
you're a wonder an' no error!"
"I don't think Joe fought his hardest, Old Un.
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