After the half-minute Sayers came up quite fresh, though he had a big lump coming up on his forehead and his mouth was swollen. His footwork was brilliant. He nipped in and out, avoiding the long arms and always, when a blow did land, managed to be on the retreat, so that its force was lessened. But the sun shining in his eyes was a trouble, and he frowned and tried to work Heenan round so that he had his share of it. Heenan, however, grinned, and held his ground. Then Tom Sayers darted in to plant a hard body-blow, but caught a severe right which knocked him down. Once more Sayers tried to get out of the sun, and failing, closed and slipped down. By this time he was a good deal marked, and there was a severe cut over his eyebrow. Both remained excessively cautious, and all at once the humour of it seized them and they put down their hands and roared with laughter, again--small wonder it is that foreigners used to think us a race of madmen, until--that is--the French began to play the same game. (Only for the most part, the French take boxing very, very seriously.) Suddenly Heenan steadied himself and shot out a straight left which fairly caught the champion and, for the fourth time, knocked him down. A large number of the spectators believed that Sayers was a beaten man. For a large number of them had not seen him fight before, and had no idea how much he could take. More experienced ring-goers watched, patiently suspending judgment. And presently the inexperienced folk were startled. Heenan sent out a smashing blow which Sayers entirely avoided, jumping right back from it, instantly bounding in again and delivering a terrific blow on his man’s eye. It was one of those sliding, upward hits which almost split the American’s cheek before it reached his brow, and it sent Heenan staggering away. The rest did little to improve his appearance. He was bleeding profusely, swollen and disfigured. Sayers was getting comfortably set. He stopped a hard lead with his forearm, and dashing in, dealt out a harder one; and then another which seemed almost to crush Heenan’s nose and very nearly lifted him off his legs. Five-foot eight and six-foot two. Not bad going. In the seventh round, Sayers hit Heenan an awful blow which sent the blood spurting from his nose. Heenan grabbed hold of his man to put an end to this punishment, and Sayers got in some damaging body-blows before he fell underneath.