Then he sprang backwards away from his enemy.
Curiously enough, Greer did not press his advantage home. The heavy
lad came forward but stood away from Caradoc, attempting nothing but
left-hand jabs.
In an instant Smith saw what was the matter. That blow on the hip had
ruined Greer's right hand, strained it, perhaps broken it. Greer's
rushes had stopped, and Smith, who was a boxer, not a fighter, could
stand off and peck at his man's eyes or jaw without danger to himself.
He hitched wearily up to his enemy, blocked Greer's left hand and let
his right have a full swing at his exposed body. Farnol went through the
motion of striking, but his blow was a mere tap and caused the heavy
fellow to cringe with pain.
[Illustration: Caradoc Stands the Acid Test.]
Caradoc swung a light blow to the neck. Greer countered fiercely with
his left, but it was parried easily.
Suddenly the crowd understood what had happened.
"Put 'im out!" "Finish 'im!" "Put 'im to sleep!" bawled a chorus. "He
hit you below th' belt w'en 'e broke 'is 'and!"
Farnol continued his chopping one-armed fight. "Put me out! Put me out!"
he bubbled furiously. "I said ye was a thief! You _are_ a thief!
You're a thief!" and he accented his charges with stabs.
Smith side-stepped the harmless attack, letting it slide first to one
side then the other, men were so tired they could hardly keep their
feet.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141