The colour came slowly to Donald’s cheeks and the haze cleared away as the cold water was showered upon him. He felt his strength returning. A long deep breath and he was himself again. Youth and his fine body had saved him. He looked across the ring at Garrieau, whose vulture-like manager was leaning over him with an exultant look on his face. This brute had deliberately fouled him. A cold and terrible rage swept through every fibre of Donald’s being. He had demeaned himself by entering the prize-ring. This was bad enough; but to _lose_ the battle!—_Never!_ He looked for his friends. Their faces, he saw, were tense and full of misery.
“Andy, I’m going after him,” he declared in a hard voice.
Andy was about to remonstrate, but he caught a flash of the hard light in Donald’s eyes, and the words died on his lips. He hesitated. Maybe he should have let Donald take the aggressive from the start.
Donald’s eyes held a dull glow. “Yes!” he gritted.
Andy patted his arm as the gong rang. “Give ’im ’ell, Donnie!” And then added reverently: “May God give ’im strength.”
Donald shot from his corner as though thrown from a catapult to meet Garrieau before he was fairly out of his chair. The spectators held their breath. Was this the man who a minute before had walked staggering and beaten to his chair? When the referee pried the fighters apart after a fierce mix-up in the champion’s corner, a puffed eye and a bloody face showed that Garrieau had absorbed severe punishment. Donald was everywhere, dancing in for a fierce rally and out again, always without a return.
The arena fairly rocked to the cheers of the crowd as Donald stood in the centre of the ring and exchanged punches with the champion. Head to head they stood while Donald’s arms worked with such lightning speed that the champion’s blows were smothered. And, marvel of marvels, the champion was giving ground. The pursued had become pursuer. The tide had turned. With his arms wound about his face the champion retreated. As he assayed a lead, Donald’s fist smote his face before he could again cover up. Following relentlessly, Donald penetrated his opponent’s guard with rights and lefts until the champion’s face was a smear of red.