The next moment Noyes sailed in. He was not a bad fighter; he could hit hard at any rate, and sometimes stopped a blow. His previous acquaintance with Hans's head led him to go for his body, and that was perhaps a little in his favour, for the Finn was all abroad all the time. At first Hans hit so slowly that when he first got there Noyes was gone, but he gradually got a little quicker. When I was eleven stone weight I used sometimes to box with a man who weighed seventeen. In the first round I used to hit him when and where I pleased; in the second I had to look out; in the third he used to get there once and finish me for the day. Like Hans, he grew quicker as he grew warmer, and yet Hans never touched the skipper at all in the first round. He was knocked all over the place, and to any outsider it looked a thousand to one on Authority. But the odd thing was that Hans's ribs seemed as hard as his head, and his wind was invulnerable. Twice he went down, but he rose quick enough, and when time was called no one puffed but the skipper. In the second round they clinched, and when the consul called on them to break away Hans fairly threw Noyes from him. "He'll lick him yet," said Johnson, and now Noyes had to defend himself. Any one of Hans's blows would have killed a cow if it had fairly landed. The skipper, half in despair, hit at his opponent's head, and got there. He stopped Hans, but was jarred to the shoulder. When he recovered he landed, and Hans went down to rise again like a fives ball on a hard court, and though Noyes jabbed him again and again straight in the face, he never left any mark or blood behind him. And every blow of the Finn's came nearer, quicker, more fiercely. Time was called in time to save the captain. "I believe he'll do me," said Noyes. "I believe it, too," said Bragg. It was not an encouraging remark to get from one's second, and Noyes felt hurt. While he was sitting on Bragg's knee Hans was walking round feeling his arms and talking. "Ya, ya, I lick him goot," he said. "I lick him goot." And now he was warm and like a flail. Both arms were equally good; he went at his man round arm, and missed him ten times by a mere shave. In the middle of the round Noyes, who knew he was going, worked his glove off in a close rally, and before the consul could intervene he struck Hans full in the face with his bare fist. It was a timed blow that ought to have stopped a rhinoceros, and Hans threw his head up, as the consul jumped in. "Nein, nein," cried Hans, "take de oder off. I fight him so. I fight goot now." And so he did, for though the glove was put on again, there was no sign of his having been hit, and Noyes's right hand was useless. A left-hander finished it, and Noyes went off his feet. When he came to he was tired and weary and found himself in the hospital with a bandaged jaw.