Donald stopped abruptly in his flight and shot a lightning left across to his pursuer’s jaw. The champion saw it coming, but too late to block it. He threw his body into reverse, robbing the blow of a great deal of its force; yet enough was left to send him reeling back to the ropes, his head whirling and his knees wobbly. With a roar the spectators came to their feet as one man. The gong saved Garrieau.
The crowd gave Donald a deafening ovation as he walked to his corner. He looked for his friends and saw Douglas and Gillis locked in an embrace and dancing madly in the narrow aisle.
“Pretty near got ’im that time, Donnie!” cried Andy gleefully. “If you can get ’im to lift ’is jaw off ’is shoulder, send in your right.” Andy’s hands were shaking with excitement, while Donald was cool and collected.
“Let me go after him, Andy,” he begged; “I can whip him at his own game.”
“No, no!” admonished Andy, “keep on as you are. Don’t try to swap punches with ’im!”
Garrieau’s seconds were working over him feverishly. Pursell leaned over the heavily-breathing champion, his evil face sick with apprehension.
“What’d I tell yer?” he exclaimed. “They’ve stuck a ringer in on us; dat feller ain’t no amachoor! If he beats ya we’re both bums! Foul him dis round, for de——” he finished with a savage oath.
At the beginning of the third round Garrieau charged his elusive adversary like a mad bull. Donald easily side-stepped him and he plunged into the ropes. As he rebounded, Donald landed a left and danced safely away without reprisal.
“You can do pretty footwork,” snarled the champion with a look of Simian ferocity, “but I’ll get you yet, you——” There followed a burst of wild cursing. He tried to rush Donald to the ropes, feinted for the wind, and let loose a powerful right for the jaw. Paying no attention to the feint, Donald ducked the blow and, countering, shot his left to his opponent’s mid-section. The champion grunted aloud, fell into a clinch, and hung on grimly. The referee pried them apart. Again the crowd came to their feet to shout in a frenzy of excitement.
Garrieau fell into a clinch, then wrestled about until he placed his opponent between himself and the referee. He loosed his right in a terrific upper-cut that missed, but his left smashed with fearful force to Donald’s groin—the most brutal foul that can be delivered. The referee did not see the blow.