They
squatted on the floor breathing slowly and easily. Astro stood in the
middle of the ring, glaring at both of them in turn and shaking his
head.
"Huh. I expected to see you two try to wallop each other into meteor
dust! Keep fighting like that and we'll be here all night!"
"Talk to Corbett," sneered Roger. "Looks like he's afraid to mix it up!"
"You fight your way, Roger, and I'll fight mine," replied Tom, his voice
cold and impersonal.
"Time!" suddenly yelled Astro and stepped back off the mat.
The two cadets jumped to their feet and met in the center of the ring
again. With a bull-like rush, Roger changed tactics and began to rain
punches all over Tom's body, but the curly-haired cadet stood his ground
coolly, picking some off in mid-air with his gloves and sliding under
the others. Then, as Roger slowed down, Tom took the offensive, popping
his left into his opponent's face steadily and methodically, while
keeping his right cocked for a clear opening to the chin.
Roger danced in and out, watching Tom's left as though it was a snake
and trying unsuccessfully to get through his guard. But the sharp lefts
kept snapping his head back and his face began to redden, not only from
the sting of the blows but with the mounting fury of his frustration.
Suddenly, as Astro raised his arm to call time for the end of the round,
Roger jumped forward and rained another series of harmless blows on
Tom's shoulders and arms.
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