s. It was a slugging match from the
first.

Siebold was no mean antagonist, and he had some tricks worthy of the
prize ring. Moreover, he was a little taller, a little heavier and had a
longer reach than Grier. Immediately it became apparent that he was
trying for a knock-out--he meant to put Gus away and to do it as quickly
as possible.

But Gus did not mean to be put out, and it became as quickly evident
that he was quite capable of making Siebold work hard even to hit him.
Siebold would bore in, drive for the jaw or stomach, and either miss or
land lightly; but he would nearly always get a stinging crack in
return--delivered at the same instant that his own blow was blocked, or
in the fraction of a second after he had only struck the empty air.
Still, these blows of Gus's were not paralyzers--they were just
weakeners. They made Siebold angry enough to spend his strength in
getting back at the chap who could land in just when and where he
wished.

Siebold's nose ached and bled; his eyes smarted, and one was closing.
His stomach, too, was sore, and somehow he could not help but feel that
his blows were growing futile. At the end of the fifth round, as he sat
back on a bench, letting some of his would-be handlers fan and sponge
him, he looked across at Gus, standing there, refusing all half-hearted
offers of attention and gazing at him with a smile on his unmarked face,
the sophomore champion began to wish he had not got into this fuss. Then
he grew furious at the thought that he was not making good.

A few minutes later, near the end of the sixth round, he began to try
for clinches in order to save himself, but somehow his wary opponent, as
quick on his feet and as strong with his hands as he was at the start,
was still adept at hitting and getting away. Just then Sadler, who, with
watch in hand, always made a little step forward as he called the end of
each round, put out his foot when Siebold was facing him and the
sophomore, tired and eager for a minute's respite, started to get back
and lowered his guard. And upon the instant of shouting the word Gus,
with his back to Sadler, let go with his right.

Siebold crumpled up like a rag. Sadler, slow to begin counting, stood
over him a moment. Gus drew back and with the first excitement he had
shown jerked his gloves off and tossed them wide. The boys crowded in,
gazing at Siebold who lay with white face and sprawled out like one
dead. Gus heard Sadler's count reach