On a bit of level, dry turf Will faced his big antagonist. Baizley was
heavy of build, strong of arm, and not without some knowledge of the
pugilistic art. He was also a little taller than Will. To the casual
glance the latter appeared no match for him. Fair-skinned, slender,
and with something of a studious stoop to his shoulders, Will's
appearance gave small indication of the strength that lurked in his
well-corded sinews. Under his pale skin he concealed almost as much
sheer lifting power as Baizley's big frame could muster; and the
steel-like elasticity of his compact muscles gave his blows swiftness
and precision.
Keen of eye, and with a cool, provoking, indulgent smile hovering faintly
about his mouth at times, he successfully parried several terrific lunges.
He spoke not a word, husbanding his wind prudently, while Baizley, on the
other hand, kept interjecting bursts of fragmentary profanity. About this
time Mr. Hand arrived upon the scene, panting heavily, and seating himself
on the ground, gathered the sobbing Toddles into his arms.
Will's first intention was to act on the defensive till he should weary
his opponent; but his opponent's sledge-hammer fists were not easily
warded off. He got one heavy blow on the chest that made him gasp for
breath; then he tried dodging, and giving ground nimbly and unexpectedly.
At length he saw an opening, and quicker than thought he struck heavily
with his left fist on Baizley's eye. At the same instant in came a
terrific blow which made his head ring and the stars chase themselves
before his eyes.
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