that, though they did not find
the chin, staggered and partly stunned him, and, ere he could pull
himself together, Dam was inside his guard, almost breast to breast
with him, and raining terrific blows, just above the belt. Left,
right, left, right, and no chance for the Gorilla to get his own hands
up for a couple of seconds, and, when he could, and drove an appalling
blow at Dam's chin, it was dodged and he received a cross-counter that
shook him. He must sham weariness and demoralization, lead the tippy
rookie on to over-confidence and then land him clean over the ropes. A
sullen rage grew in the Gorilla's heart. He wasn't doing himself
justice. He wasn't having a fair show. This blasted half-set pink and
white recruit hadn't given him time to settle down. A fifteen-round
contest shouldn't be bustled like _this!_ The bloke was more like a
wild-cat than a sober heavyweight boxer.

He received a heavy blow in the face and, as he shook his head with an
evil grin, according to his custom when well struck, he found it
followed practically instantaneously by another. The swab was about
the quickest thing that ever got into a ring. He was like one of these
bloomin', tricky, jack-in-the-box featherweights, instead of a steady
lumbering "heavy". And the Gorilla allowed himself to be driven to a
corner again, and let his head sink forward, that the incautious youth
might again put all his strength into an upper-cut, miss as the other
dodged, and be at the mercy of the Gorilla as the errant fist
completed its over-driven swing.

But Damocles de Warrenne fought with his brain as well as his strength
and skill. He had learnt a lesson, and no dull-witted oaf of a Gorilla
was going to have him like that twice. As the Gorilla cowered and
crouched in simulated defeat and placed his face to tempt the _coup de
grace_ which he would see swinging up, and easily dodge, Dam swiftly
side-stepped and summoning every ounce of strength, rage, and mad
protesting frenzy against the life-long torturing tyrant, he delivered
a Homeric blow at the champion's head, beside and behind the ear.
(Since he was indestructible by the ordinary point-of-the-chin
knock-out, let him make the best of that fearful blow upon the base of
the brain and spinal cord, direct.)

Experienced men said it was the heaviest blow they had ever seen
struck with the human fist. It was delivered slightly downward,
coolly, at measured distance, with change from left foot to