Donald’s nerves quivered with agony. A wave of torment and the awful nausea that follows such a blow swept through him. His face writhing with anguish, his gloved hands clutching his groin, he crashed forward on his face. His body twitched for a moment, then lay still.
The crowd came to their feet and many moved toward the exits. Another victim, they thought, to the champion’s terrible punch. A number at the ringside, who had witnessed the foul blow, stood upon their seats and screamed denunciations at the referee.
The referee stood with one hand on Garrieau’s massive chest. The latter was lustfully straining forward while the fatal seconds were tolled off.
The roar of the crowd came to Donald’s ears like the dash of waves on a distant shore. At the count of five his body stirred. At the count of eight, his jaw sagging, his face distorted, he struggled to his knees. He saw Andy’s agonised face as through a fog and heard his desperate cry of appeal.
At the count of nine Donald’s benumbed muscles answered the call of his brain. With tremendous effort he staggered to his feet and wound his arms about his face. The crowd yelled themselves hoarse in tribute to his courage.
Garrieau was upon him with a growl like a wild beast. Donald stood in the centre of the ring reeling drunkenly. Garrieau shot a terrific right for Donald’s wind that struck his weakly protecting elbows. The impact carried him to the ropes, and he fell forward to his knees. Again the referee’s arm rose and fell as he counted the seconds. Again Donald tottered to his feet to meet a fusilade of short-arm jolts that pierced his guard and sent him staggering.
The gong rang. With body swaying unsteadily and legs wavering, Donald walked to his corner and sank down heavily. What a blessed relief to lie and relax! His head felt leaden and there was a ringing in his ears.
His seconds worked over him in furious haste. Andy knew all the tricks of resuscitation: the upward sweep of hand on the midriff that brings the big nerve centre to life; the quick raising of the chest that brings air to the remote corners of the lungs. With a sudden choking in his throat, the little Australian realized that this boy was very dear to him. A prayer on his lips, his hands trembling, but sure and deft, he strove to restore the shattered nerves.