For a moment he lay there. There was no applause. The silence was more telling. He lay puzzling out what to do, and then at last he got up and looked for Rouse with eyes that were ablaze with wrath. Rouse had waited for a sign that he was ready, and now, as Coles put up his hands, he walked in and began the real work that he had to do. So far he had merely steadied his man. The last blow had been the signal that this phase was over. The thrashing that he deserved was to come. Coles could box and it was difficult to work him into a corner, but his fiery temper was a decided help to Rouse, and at length he had Coles against the ropes, standing with legs apart and both gloves held in a threatening attitude of readiness. Rouse looked at him grimly and came in. For a moment there was a whirl of fists. Then just as before the better man emerged. A glove flashed up from his hip and almost lifted Coles off his feet with the force of its landing. Coles tried to answer with his left, but he was off his balance, and Rouse merely dodged back, then swung in again with the whole weight of his body behind his glove. This time Coles fell slowly, like a man struggling against unconsciousness, and at last when he hit the boards he lay still. Rouse drew back, watching him inscrutably. Still there was no applause. Coles was not yet entirely done for. He had not yet been punished to the full. He got up groggily and stood waiting. Rouse moved in and struck him again. He rocked and tried to collect himself for a final effort. For the crowd who stood watching it was a glorious moment. Once again Rouse had achieved the seemingly impossible. Coles stood there swaying in defeat and no man could rightly tell his thoughts, but at last, when he saw Rouse moving to hit him again, he leant forward and struck out with left and right as he came. One blow landed, but it failed to stop Rouse, and he came on slowly, relentlessly. His glove swung from the shoulder and landed against the other head with a thud. Coles began to fall. He made one effort to hit back. As he righted himself he exposed his chin, and Rouse let go a blow that carried every atom of his strength. This time Coles just threw out his hands, and dropped in a limp heap at his feet. Rouse turned to his comer with a sigh of untold satisfaction. He had only one fear, and that was that Coles might recover in time to come up for another round. He wanted to have turned the tables on Coles with real effect. Coles had beaten _him_ in one round. For a moment he was in doubt. Then Toby finished counting and made a quick sign with his hand. Coles’ second came into the ring and picked him up. Rouse had won. Still there was no applause. He looked once towards Terence, but he gave no sign of real gladness. His feelings were part and parcel of the feelings of the entire school. A traitor had met with his deserts. There was nothing to clap about.