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.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65