There are two ways of beginning a fight, and Perry chose the wrong one. Directly they had shaken hands and their seconds had retired to their respective corners he lunged out, aiming a tremendous hit and wasted it on the air. Not once nor twice did he misjudge his distance and throw away his strength in this manner, while Sayers nimbly jumped aside, or back, leading him round the ring. The Slasher was furious. “Coom and fight me,” he said. “Don’t ’ee go skirling about like a bloody dancing master.” And Tom laughed at him. He knew perfectly well what he was about. He would make the giant tire himself out and then he would hit him at his own leisure. The Slasher, on the other hand, believed that one hit from him--one really good hit such as he alone could deliver--would finish his little opponent, and he tried again and again to put in such a blow. At first Tom Sayers was content to avoid them and leave well alone, but after a while he saw a perfect opening as he slipped his man’s ponderous left, and he sent his own left in, straight, with all his might. It landed on the Slasher’s nose and he snorted and gasped. That was a wonderful punch for so small a man. He began to feel a little uncomfortable. He couldn’t be _beaten_, surely, by this monkey of a fellow. Still, it was disconcerting. And the more uncertain he became the wilder he grew. He was soon puffing and blowing from his frantic exertions to land just that one beauty which should knock Sayers out of time. Then quite suddenly Tom Sayers reached the point when he could resist fighting no longer. It was all very well dodging and jumping out of harm’s way and putting in an occasional counter-hit: and it was the right way to tackle a giant like William Perry. But Sayers was a fighter and he loved to “mix it.” And so he restrained himself less and instead of running away he stood up to the Slasher. Tom ducked from the next mighty blow which swished through the air over his head, and again he ducked and this time the Tipton Slasher followed up one failure with several, and sent blow after blow into thin air. There came a chuckle of delight from behind him, and swinging round he saw Sayers dancing about and laughing at him. The big man looked extremely foolish. His seconds now roundly swore at him for wasting his strength, and told him that he ought to wait. But Perrins was angry and he went on beating the air. After a while, however, he did manage to land a good blow, which caught Sayers on the forehead and knocked him down flat. The onlookers gasped, for they thought that such a blow would kill the little man. But when time was called up he came still grinning and none the worse save for a bump like an egg. Now the Slasher was much happier. Two or three more like that and the fight would be over. But Sayers knew every trick of his trade, though he never descended to the dirty ones. He pretended now to be really frightened, and instead of slipping and