The first knock-down blow came from Randall in the thirteenth round. He shot in a hard left which sent Turner’s head back and then immediately repeated it, whereupon Turner fell. He was bleeding a good deal. The Irishman hit less now at the body, finding Turner’s defence for his head easier to break through. In the sixteenth round Turner hit several times but weakly; in the seventeenth, however, he seized Randall and threw him clean out of the ring. But the effort was a costly one: it did little harm to Randall, whilst Turner stood leaning against the ropes panting. Randall came up for the next round comparatively fresh, and before long he knocked Turner down again. Two hours had been passed by the time twenty-four rounds had been fought. There were ten more rounds and these only occupied twenty minutes. The reason was that Turner was losing strength rapidly, and Randall knocked or threw him down without much trouble. Turner’s pluck was magnificent. Round after round he got the worst of it, but came up each time with apparent confidence and a smile upon his bruised and bleeding face. In the twenty-seventh round Turner hurled himself at his opponent and hit him so hard as to drive him right away, though without causing his downfall. Randall was now refreshed by a pull at the brandy-flask, but Turner was yet able to stop his best blows and to give good ones in return. But the tide of the battle had set definitely against him. Randall ended one round by knocking him down with a tremendous body-blow and the next by a throw. When Turner came quite jauntily from his second’s knee for the thirty-first round, the crowd began to call out: “Take him away: he’s too game.” But he went on and Randall finished the bout with another body-blow. Some of the onlookers begged Ned to give in at the end of the thirty-second, but he shook his head. The next round was very short, and Turner was severely knocked down. Again the cry was raised: “Don’t let him fight any more.” However, he came up, full of pluck and perfectly cool, for the thirty-fourth, and did his best to keep Randall away. The Irishman, however, sent in several blows, the last of which on the side of Turner’s head, knocked him down so that he could not come up at the call of time. The crowd pressed round Randall in congratulation, but he pushed them away and went across to Turner to shake hands with perfect good friendship. Turner, sick at heart and hurt as he was, patted Randall on the back. Never was there less ill-feeling between any two men. Randall is said to have been a natural fighter in the most literal sense, never having taken a single lesson, but buying his experience solely in the ring.