out to the jaw, and again Sandel took the nine seconds count.

By the seventh round Sandel's pink of condition was gone, and he settled
down to what he knew was to be the hardest fight in his experience. Tom
King was an old un, but a better old un than he had ever encountered--an
old un who never lost his head, who was remarkably able at defence,
whose blows had the impact of a knotted club, and who had a knockout in
either hand. Nevertheless, Tom King dared not hit often. He never
forgot his battered knuckles, and knew that every hit must count if the
knuckles were to last out the fight. As he sat in his corner, glancing
across at his opponent, the thought came to him that the sum of
his wisdom and Sandel's youth would constitute a world's champion
heavyweight. But that was the trouble. Sandel would never become a world
champion. He lacked the wisdom, and the only way for him to get it was
to buy it with Youth; and when wisdom was his, Youth would have been
spent in buying it.

King took every advantage he knew. He never missed an opportunity to
clinch, and in effecting most of the clinches his shoulder drove stiffly
into the other's ribs. In the philosophy of the ring a shoulder was as
good as a punch so far as damage was concerned, and a great deal better
so far as concerned expenditure of effort. Also, in the clinches
King rested his weight on his opponent, and was loath to let go. This
compelled the interference of the referee, who tore them apart, always
assisted by Sandel, who had not yet learned to rest. He could not
refrain from using those glorious flying arms and writhing muscles of
his, and when the other rushed into a clinch, striking shoulder against
ribs, and with head resting under Sandel's left arm, Sandel almost
invariably swung his right behind his own back and into the projecting
face. It was a clever stroke, much admired by the audience, but it was
not dangerous, and was, therefore, just that much wasted strength. But
Sandel was tireless and unaware of limitations, and King grinned and
doggedly endured.

Sandel developed a fierce right to the body, which made it appear that
King was taking an enormous amount of punishment, and it was only the
old ringsters who appreciated the deft touch of King's left glove to the
other's biceps just before the impact of the blow. It was true, the blow
landed each time; but each time it was robbed of its power by that touch
on the biceps. In the ninth round, thre