Page:Cruise of the Dry Dock.djvu/192

 hand, strained it, perhaps broken it. Greer's rushes had stopped, and Smith, who was a boxer, not a fighter, could stand off and peck at his man's eyes or jaw without danger to himself.

He hitched wearily up to his enemy, blocked Greer's left hand and let his right have a full swing at his exposed body. Farnol went through the motion of striking, but his blow was a mere tap and caused the heavy fellow to cringe with pain.

Caradoc swung a light blow to the neck. Greer countered fiercely with his left, but it was parried easily.

Suddenly the crowd understood what had happened.

“Put 'im out!” “Finish 'im!” “Put 'im to sleep!” bawled a chorus. “He hit you below th' belt w'en 'e broke 'is 'and!”

Farnol continued his chopping one-armed fight. “Put me out! Put me out!” he bubbled furiously. “I said ye was a thief! You are a thief! You're a thief!” and he accented his charges with stabs.

Smith side-stepped the harmless attack,