"Watch his left, Mike. . . . Take it easy. . . . Take it easy. . . . Now, Mike, go in. . . . Get him, boy . . . get him!"
The gong rings; Mike staggers to his corner, weary, bleeding. Through the ropes springs Mike's marcelled second with water-bucket, sponge, bottle, towel. Mike rests for a short minute while motherly hands wash red from his eyes and mouth, fan his wilting torso. Mike hears calm, sage advice delivered in a motherly tone. Again the gong rings and Mike's second, agile in...
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