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like blows they were； four of them； right and left； and heavy they
were； for Ponta winced away from them and staggered back； half
dropping his arms； his shoulders drooping forward and in； as though
he were about to double in at the waist and collapse。 Joe's quick
eye saw the opening； and he smashed straight out upon Ponta's mouth；
following instantly with a half swing； half hook； for the jaw。 It
missed； striking the cheek instead； and sending Ponta staggering
sideways。
The house was on its feet； shouting； to a man。 Genevieve could hear
men crying； 〃He's got 'm； he's got 'm！〃 and it seemed to her the
beginning of the end。 She； too； was out of herself； softness and
tenderness had vanished； she exulted with each crushing blow her
lover delivered。
But Ponta's vitality was yet to be reckoned with。 As； like a tiger；
he had followed Joe up； Joe now followed him up。 He made another
half swing； half hook； for Ponta's jaw； and Ponta； already
recovering his wits and strength； ducked cleanly。 Joe's fist passed
on through empty air； and so great was the momentum of the blow that
it carried him around； in a half twirl； sideways。 Then Ponta lashed
out with his left。 His glove landed on Joe's unguarded neck。
Genevieve saw her lover's arms drop to his sides as his body lifted；
went backward； and fell limply to the floor。 The referee； bending
over him； began to count the seconds； emphasizing the passage of
each second with a downward sweep of his right arm。
The audience was still as death。 Ponta had partly turned to the
house to receive the approval that was his due； only to be met by
this chill； graveyard silence。 Quick wrath surged up in him。 It
was unfair。 His opponent only was applaudedif he struck a blow；
if he escaped a blow； he； Ponta； who had forced the fighting from
the start； had received no word of cheer。
His eyes blazed as he gathered himself together and sprang to his
prostrate foe。 He crouched alongside of him； right arm drawn back
and ready for a smashing blow the instant Joe should start to rise。
The referee； still bending over and counting with his right hand；
shoved Ponta back with his left。 The latter； crouching； circled
around； and the referee circled with him； thrusting him back and
keeping between him and the fallen man。
〃Fourfivesix〃 the count went on； and Joe； rolling over on his
face； squirmed weakly to draw himself to his knees。 This he
succeeded in doing； resting on one knee； a hand to the floor on
either side and the other leg bent under him to help him rise。
〃Take the count！ Take the count！〃 a dozen voices rang out from the
audience。
〃For God's sake； take the count！〃 one of Joe's seconds cried
warningly from the edge of the ring。 Genevieve gave him one swift
glance； and saw the young fellow's face； drawn and white； his lips
unconsciously moving as he kept the count with the referee。
〃Seveneightnine〃 the seconds went。
The ninth sounded and was gone； when the referee gave Ponta a last
backward shove and Joe came to his feet； bunched up； covered up；
weak； but cool； very cool。 Ponta hurled himself upon him with
terrific force； delivering an uppercut and a straight punch。 But
Joe blocked the two； ducked a third； stepped to the side to avoid a
fourth； and was then driven backward into a corner by a hurricane of
blows。 He was exceedingly weak。 He tottered as he kept his
footing； and staggered back and forth。 His back was against the
ropes。 There was no further retreat。 Ponta paused； as if to make
doubly sure； then feinted with his left and struck fiercely with his
right with all his strength。 But Joe ducked into a clinch and was
for a moment saved。
Ponta struggled frantically to free himself。 He wanted to give the
finish to this foe already so far gone。 But Joe was holding on for
life； resisting the other's every effort； as fast as one hold or
grip was torn loose finding a new one by which to cling。 〃Break！〃
the referee commanded。 Joe held on tighter。 〃Make 'm break！ Why
the hell don't you make 'm break？〃 Ponta panted at the referee。
Again the latter commanded the break。 Joe refused； keeping； as he
well knew； within his rights。 Each moment of the clinch his
strength was coming back to him； his brain was clearing； the cobwebs
were disappearing from before his eyes。 The round was young； and he
must live； somehow； through the nearly three minutes of it yet to
run。
The referee clutched each by the shoulder and sundered them
violently； passing quickly between them as he thrust them backward
in order to make a clean break of it。 The moment he was free； Ponta
sprang at Joe like a wild animal bearing down its prey。 But Joe
covered up； blocked； and fell into a clinch。 Again Ponta struggled
to get free； Joe held on； and the referee thrust them apart。 And
again Joe avoided damage and clinched。
Genevieve realized that in the clinches he was not being beaten
why； then； did not the referee let him hold on？ It was cruel。 She
hated the genial…faced Eddy Jones in those moments； and she partly
rose from her chair； her hands clenched with anger； the nails
cutting into the palms till they hurt。 The rest of the round； the
three long minutes of it； was a succession of clinches and breaks。
Not once did Ponta succeed in striking his opponent the deadly final
blow。 And Ponta was like a madman； raging because of his impotency
in the face of his helpless and all but vanquished foe。 One blow；
only one blow； and he could not deliver it！ Joe's ring experience
and coolness saved him。 With shaken consciousness and trembling
body； he clutched and held on； while the ebbing life turned and
flooded up in him again。 Once； in his passion； unable to hit him；
Ponta made as though to lift him up and hurl him to the floor。
〃V'y don't you bite him？〃 Silverstein taunted shrilly。
In the stillness the sally was heard over the whole house； and the
audience； relieved of its anxiety for its favorite； laughed with an
uproariousness that had in it the note of hysteria。 Even Genevieve
felt that there was something irresistibly funny in the remark； and
the relief of the audience was communicated to her； yet she felt
sick and faint； and was overwrought with horror at what she had seen
and was seeing。
〃Bite 'm！ Bite 'm！〃 voices from the recovered audience were
shouting。 〃Chew his ear off； Ponta！ That's the only way you can
get 'm！ Eat 'm up！ Eat 'm up！ Oh； why don't you eat 'm up？〃
The effect was bad on Ponta。 He became more frenzied than ever； and
more impotent。 He panted and sobbed； wasting his effort by too much
effort； losing sanity and control and futilely trying to compensate
for the loss by excess of physical endeavor。 He knew only the blind
desire to destroy； shook Joe in the clinches as a terrier might a
rat； strained and struggled for freedom of body and arms； and all
the while Joe calmly clutched and held on。 The referee worked
manfully and fairly to separate them。 Perspiration ran down his
face。 It took all his strength to split those clinging bodies； and
no sooner had he split them than Joe fell unharmed into another
embrace and the work had to be done all over again。 In vain； when
freed； did Ponta try to avoid the clutching arms and twining body。
He could not keep away。 He had to come close in order to strike；
and each time Joe baffled him and caught him in his arms。
And Genevieve； crouched in the little dressing…room and peering
through the peep…hole； was baffled； too。 She was an interested
party in what seemed a death…strugglewas not one of the fighters
her Joe？but the audience understood and she did not。 The Game had
not unveiled to her。 The lure of it was beyond her。 It was greater
mystery than ever。 She could not comprehend its power。 What
delight could there be for Joe in that brutal surging and straining
of bodies； those fierce clutches； fiercer blows； and terrible hurts？
Surely； she； Genevieve； offered more than thatrest； and content；
and sweet； calm joy。 Her bid for the heart of him and the soul of
him was finer and more generous than the bid of the Game； yet he
dallied with bothheld her in his arms； but turned his head to
listen to that other and siren call she could not understand。
The gong struck。 The round ended with a break in Ponta's corner。
The white…faced young second was through the ropes with the first
clash of sound。 He seized Joe in his arms； lifted him clear of the
floor； and ran with him across the ring to his own corner。 His
seconds worked over him furiously； chafing his legs； slapping his
abdomen； stretching the hip…cloth out with their fingers so that he
might breathe more easily。 For the first time Genevieve saw the
stomach…breathing of a man； an abdomen that rose and fell far more
with every breath than her breast rose and fell after she had run
for a car。 The pungency of ammonia bit her nos