No one should need the fantastic explanation of Carpentier’s or Descamps’s hypnotic powers if he will but watch the boxer with a quick and vigilant eye. There have been, perhaps, better men of a less weight from the strictly scientific point of view, but as a skilled heavy-weight Carpentier is peerless. Unfortunately, as we know, science is not all that is needed in the ring, and Carpentier was utterly routed by Dempsey--a good boxer, but not nearly so good a boxer--because he was a positive phenomenon of size and strength. That beautiful right was probably enough to beat Cook, who immediately fell forward. But Carpentier hit him again, bending to do so, just before he reached the floor. By the rules it was a fair blow, because the man was not technically “down”--neither glove nor knee quite touched the floor. It was, however, a very near thing. There was a good deal of excitement and uproar at the moment, and at least one highly competent judge fully believed the blow to have been a foul, and that the Frenchman should have been disqualified. But he was sitting immediately behind Carpentier and could not get a perfectly clear view. Instantaneous photographs, displayed afterwards, show that Carpentier, by the narrowest possible margin, was on the right side. But it was an unfortunate ending to a most instructive encounter. For the question remains--did he strike deliberately, or was he overcome by the excitement of the moment, as so many other boxers, even of his experience, have been overcome before? Neither alternative leaves us with complete ease in retrospect: for to lose your head is bad boxing, while to take the uttermost advantage of the exact letter of the rule is, in such a case, questionable sportsmanship. [Illustration: _Photo: “Sport and General.”_ Georges Carpentier and Jack Dempsey.] CHAPTER XIII LITTLE MEN From the spectator’s point of view much of the interest of boxing (and almost all of it in amateur boxing), is purely dramatic. You can thoroughly enjoy--at least I can, and there are others--a really good fight apart from any science that may be displayed. For enjoyment of skill alone is in another dimension. Of course, there must always be enough science to enable the boxers to fight cleanly and tidily and without the appearance of two angry windmills. But greatly as science improves the complete interest and enjoyment of a fight, that kind of interest remains separate. For the admiration of skill appeals to your head, the drama, largely to your heart. And the drama in boxing arises from the fact that the encounter is a personal one, that two men are trying to hurt each other, at least physically to overcome each other (which amounts to the same thing) and to prevent the other from hurting, from dominating. There is no other sport in which the sense of personal combat is so manifest.