For the first six rounds there was little to choose between them. But Gregson was somewhat daunted by a very severe knock down in the second round. Gulley hit him full in the face with such force that the blood literally flew from him. In the seventh, however, the bigger man fought through his opponent’s guard and gave Gulley such a blow under the eye as knocked the senses out of him for a few seconds, and his eye swelled up so that he was completely blinded in it. In the next round Gregson, using his tremendous strength, lifted his man up and hurled him to the ground as though he had been a piece of timber. But he refrained from falling on him, which, by the rules then in force, he was entitled to do, and whereby with his great weight he might have done severe damage--and so earned the cheers of the onlookers. The ninth round immediately following, found Gulley still quite cool and using all his skill. He knocked his man down, though not severely. Then onward till the sixteenth round, however, Gregson’s strength made itself felt, and he gave John Gulley a very bad time. Gulley seemed to be weakening, and round after round ended in his downfall. Then he “got his second wind,” and in a fierce rally knocked Gregson clean off his feet. It must be remembered that for some time past Gulley could see with but one eye, and though he was the better boxer, his opponent’s extra weight was a severe added handicap when it came to a fall. Gulley would have much the better of the exchanges round after round, and yet many of these rounds ended by his being desperately thrown. By the twenty-third round, however, it was seen that Gregson’s strength was ebbing, whilst Gulley somehow gave the impression of maintaining the same condition as he had shown after the first ten rounds. That is to say, he appeared to be weak, but again and again gathered himself up for some prodigious effort by sheer will-power. Up to the twenty-fifth round it was, as the saying goes, anybody’s fight. Both men were badly damaged: the strength of both was fast ebbing. You might say that if either had known exactly how bad the other felt he could have won then and there. In all personal combats it is each man’s business to hide his feelings from his opponent. He must be hurt without showing that he is hurt, and however much hurt he must persist in wanting to win. There comes a time in a hard fight, with gloves or without them, when one man or other wants less to win than to be done with the whole agonising, wearying business on any terms. And that man is beaten. So it was now with Gregson. Hurt and fatigued, he lost heart at last. His will had been stubborn, but not so stubborn as John Gulley’s. They fought on till the thirty-sixth round, till both were almost at a standstill. Then Gulley made the last supreme effort and knocked Bob Gregson down, so that he could not rise to the call of time. Gulley himself came staggering to the scratch.