"One more thing," said Astro. "I hope Tom pins your ears back, Manning.
But I'm going to see that both of you get a fair deal. So keep the
punches up--and fight it out. All right--time!"
The two boys moved carefully to the center of the improvised ring, their
guards up, while Astro stood off the edge of the mat and watched the
sweeping second hand of his wrist chronograph.
Shuffling forward Tom pushed out a probing left and then tried to cross
his right, but Manning stepped back easily, countering with a hard left
to Tom's heart.
"I forgot to tell you, Corbett," he called out, "I'm considered a
counterpuncher. I always--"
He was cut off with a sharp left to the face that snapped his head back,
and his lips curled in a smile of condescension.
"Good--very good, Corbett."
Then with lightning speed and the grace of a cat, Roger slipped inside
Tom's guard, punching hard and true. A left, a right and a left pounded
into Tom's mid-section, and as he gave way momentarily Tom's face
clouded over.
They circled. Tom kept leading with sharp lefts that popped in and out
like a piston, always connecting and keeping Roger off balance. Roger
concentrated on penetrating Tom's defense, methodically pounding his
ribs and heart and trying to wear him down.
"Time!" bawled Astro.
The two boys dropped their hands and turned back to their corners.
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