His hope lay in that Ponta
himself should ultimately consume his strength.

But Genevieve was beginning to wonder why her lover did not fight. She
grew angry. She wanted to see him wreak vengeance on this beast that had
persecuted him so. Even as she waxed impatient, the chance came, and Joe
whipped his fist to Ponta's mouth. It was a staggering blow. She saw
Ponta's head go back with a jerk and the quick dye of blood upon his
lips. The blow, and the great shout from the audience, angered him. He
rushed like a wild man. The fury of his previous assaults was as nothing
compared with the fury of this one. And there was no more opportunity
for another blow. Joe was too busy living through the storm he had
already caused, blocking, covering up, and ducking into the safety and
respite of the clinches.

But the clinch was not all safety and respite. Every instant of it was
intense watchfulness, while the breakaway was still more dangerous.
Genevieve had noticed, with a slight touch of amusement, the curious way
in which Joe snuggled his body in against Ponta's in the clinches; but
she had not realized why, until, in one such clinch, before the snuggling
in could be effected, Ponta's fist whipped straight up in the air from
under, and missed Joe's chin by a hair's-breadth. In another and later
clinch, when she had already relaxed and sighed her relief at seeing him
safely snuggled, Ponta, his chin over Joe's shoulder, lifted his right
arm and struck a terrible downward blow on the small of the back. The
crowd groaned its apprehension, while Joe quickly locked his opponent's
arms to prevent a repetition of the blow.

The gong struck, and after the fleeting minute of rest, they went at it
again--in Joe's corner, for Ponta had made a rush to meet him clear
across the ring. Where the blow had been over the kidneys, the white
skin had become bright red. This splash of color, the size of the glove,
fascinated and frightened Genevieve so that she could scarcely take her
eyes from it. Promptly, in the next clinch, the blow was repeated; but
after that Joe usually managed to give Ponta the heel of the glove on the
mouth and so hold his head back. This prevented the striking of the
blow; but three times more, before the round ended, Ponta effected the
trick, each time striking the same vulnerable part.

Another rest and another round went by, with no further damage to Joe and
no diminution of strength on the part of