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the while Joe calmly clutched and held on。 The referee worked
manfully and fairly to separate them。 Perspiration ran down his
face。 It took all his strength to split those clinging bodies； and
no sooner had he split them than Joe fell unharmed into another
embrace and the work had to be done all over again。 In vain； when
freed； did Ponta try to avoid the clutching arms and twining body。
He could not keep away。 He had to come close in order to strike；
and each time Joe baffled him and caught him in his arms。
And Genevieve； crouched in the little dressing…room and peering
through the peep…hole； was baffled； too。 She was an interested
party in what seemed a death…strugglewas not one of the fighters
her Joe？but the audience understood and she did not。 The Game had
not unveiled to her。 The lure of it was beyond her。 It was greater
mystery than ever。 She could not comprehend its power。 What
delight could there be for Joe in that brutal surging and straining
of bodies； those fierce clutches； fiercer blows； and terrible hurts？
Surely； she； Genevieve； offered more than thatrest； and content；
and sweet； calm joy。 Her bid for the heart of him and the soul of
him was finer and more generous than the bid of the Game； yet he
dallied with bothheld her in his arms； but turned his head to
listen to that other and siren call she could not understand。
The gong struck。 The round ended with a break in Ponta's corner。
The white…faced young second was through the ropes with the first
clash of sound。 He seized Joe in his arms； lifted him clear of the
floor； and ran with him across the ring to his own corner。 His
seconds worked over him furiously； chafing his legs； slapping his
abdomen； stretching the hip…cloth out with their fingers so that he
might breathe more easily。 For the first time Genevieve saw the
stomach…breathing of a man； an abdomen that rose and fell far more
with every breath than her breast rose and fell after she had run
for a car。 The pungency of ammonia bit her nostrils； wafted to her
from the soaked sponge wherefrom he breathed the fiery fumes that
cleared his brain。 He gargled his mouth and throat； took a suck at
a divided lemon； and all the while the towels worked like mad；
driving oxygen into his lungs to purge the pounding blood and send
it back revivified for the struggle yet to come。 His heated body
was sponged with water； doused with it； and bottles were turned
mouth…downward on his head。
CHAPTER VI
The gong for the sixth round struck； and both men advanced to meet
each other； their bodies glistening with water。 Ponta rushed two…
thirds of the way across the ring； so intent was he on getting at
his man before full recovery could be effected。 But Joe had lived
through。 He was strong again； and getting stronger。 He blocked
several vicious blows and then smashed back； sending Ponta reeling。
He attempted to follow up； but wisely forbore and contented himself
with blocking and covering up in the whirlwind his blow had raised。
The fight was as it had been at the beginningJoe protecting； Ponta
rushing。 But Ponta was never at ease。 He did not have it all his
own way。 At any moment； in his fiercest onslaughts； his opponent
was liable to lash out and reach him。 Joe saved his strength。 He
struck one blow to Ponta's ten； but his one blow rarely missed。
Ponta overwhelmed him in the attacks； yet could do nothing with him；
while Joe's tiger…like strokes； always imminent； compelled respect。
They toned Ponta's ferocity。 He was no longer able to go in with
the complete abandon of destructiveness which had marked his earlier
efforts。
But a change was coming over the fight。 The audience was quick to
note it； and even Genevieve saw it by the beginning of the ninth
round。 Joe was taking the offensive。 In the clinches it was he who
brought his fist down on the small of the back； striking the
terrible kidney blow。 He did it once； in each clinch； but with all
his strength； and he did it every clinch。 Then； in the breakaways；
he began to upper…cut Ponta on the stomach； or to hook his jaw or
strike straight out upon the mouth。 But at first sign of a coming
of a whirlwind； Joe would dance nimbly away and cover up。
Two rounds of this went by； and three； but Ponta's strength； though
perceptibly less； did not diminish rapidly。 Joe's task was to wear
down that strength； not with one blow； nor ten； but with blow after
blow； without end； until that enormous strength should be beaten
sheer out of its body。 There was no rest for the man。 Joe followed
him up； step by step； his advancing left foot making an audible tap；
tap； tap； on the hard canvas。 Then there would come a sudden leap
in； tiger…like； a blow struck； or blows； and a swift leap back；
whereupon the left foot would take up again its tapping advance。
When Ponta made his savage rushes； Joe carefully covered up； only to
emerge； his left foot going tap； tap； tap； as he immediately
followed up。
Ponta was slowly weakening。 To the crowd the end was a foregone
conclusion。
〃Oh； you； Joe！〃 it yelled its admiration and affection。
〃It's a shame to take the money！〃 it mocked。 〃Why don't you eat 'm；
Ponta？ Go on in an' eat 'm！〃
In the one…minute intermissions Ponta's seconds worked over him as
they had not worked before。 Their calm trust in his tremendous
vitality had been betrayed。 Genevieve watched their excited
efforts； while she listened to the white…faced second cautioning
Joe。
〃Take your time；〃 he was saying。 〃You've got 'm； but you got to
take your time。 I've seen 'm fight。 He's got a punch to the end of
the count。 I've seen 'm knocked out and clean batty； an' go on
punching just the same。 Mickey Sullivan had 'm goin'。 Puts 'm to
the mat as fast as he crawls up； six times； an' then leaves an
opening。 Ponta reaches for his jaw； an two minutes afterward
Mickey's openin' his eyes an' askin' what's doin'。 So you've got to
watch 'm。 No goin' in an' absorbin' one of them lucky punches； now。
I got money on this fight； but I don't call it mine till he's
counted out。〃
Ponta was being doused with water。 As the gong sounded； one of his
seconds inverted a water bottle on his head。 He started toward the
centre of the ring； and the second followed him for several steps；
keeping the bottle still inverted。 The referee shouted at him； and
he fled the ring； dropping the bottle as he fled。 It rolled over
and over； the water gurgling out upon the canvas till the referee；
with a quick flirt of his toe； sent the bottle rolling through the
ropes。
In all the previous rounds Genevieve had not seen Joe's fighting
face which had been prefigured to her that morning in the department
store。 Sometimes his face had been quite boyish； other times； when
taking his fiercest punishment； it had been bleak and gray； and
still later； when living through and clutching and holding on； it
had ta