CHAPTER V


The gong sounded. It seemed they had been fighting half an hour, though
from what Joe had told her she knew it had been only three minutes. With
the crash of the gong Joe's seconds were through the ropes and running
him into his corner for the blessed minute of rest. One man, squatting
on the floor between his outstretched feet and elevating them by resting
them on his knees, was violently chafing his legs. Joe sat on the stool,
leaning far back into the corner, head thrown back and arms outstretched
on the ropes to give easy expansion to the chest. With wide-open mouth
he was breathing the towel-driven air furnished by two of the seconds,
while listening to the counsel of still another second who talked with
low voice in his ear and at the same time sponged off his face,
shoulders, and chest.

Hardly had all this been accomplished (it had taken no more than several
seconds), when the gong sounded, the seconds scuttled through the ropes
with their paraphernalia, and Joe and Ponta were advancing against each
other to the centre of the ring. Genevieve had no idea that a minute
could be so short. For a moment she felt that this rest had been cut,
and was suspicious of she knew not what.

Ponta lashed out, right and left, savagely as ever, and though Joe
blocked the blows, such was the force of them that he was knocked
backward several steps. Ponta was after him with the spring of a tiger.
In the involuntary effort to maintain equilibrium, Joe had uncovered
himself, flinging one arm out and lifting his head from beneath the