He had done this, not because he expected
to be called upon to defend himself at any time, but because he
thought it conducive to keeping up his health and strength. He
awaited O'Reilly's onset with watchful calmness.
O'Reilly advanced with a whoop, flinging about his powerful arms
somewhat like a windmill, and prepared to upset his antagonist at
the first onset.
What was his surprise to find his own blows neatly parried, and to
meet a tremendous blow from his opponent which set his nose to
bleeding.
Astonished, but not panic-stricken, he pluckily advanced to a second
round, and tried to grasp Dewey round the waist. But instead of
doing this, he received another knock-down blow, which stretched him
on the ground.
He was up again, and renewed the attack, but with even less chance
of victory than before, for the blood was streaming down his face,
and he could not see distinctly where to hit. Dewey contented
himself with keeping on guard and parrying the blows of his
demoralized adversary.
"It's no use, O'Reilly!" exclaimed two or three. "Dewey's the better
man."
"Let me get at him! I'll show him what I can do," said O'Reilly
doggedly.
"As long as you like, O'Reilly," said Richard Dewey coolly; "but you
may as well give it up.
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