And so the battle went slowly but surely against Carrington. Fighting desperately, and showing by the expression of his face that he knew his chances were small, he tried to work at close quarters. He kept coming in stubbornly, blocking some blows, taking others; and finally he succeeded in getting his arms around Taylor. The crowd had by this time become intensely partisan. At first it had been silent, but now it became clamorous. There were some Danforth men, and knowing Danforth to be aligned with Carrington—because, it seemed to them, Carrington was taking Danforth’s end of the fight—they howled for the big man to “give it to him!” And they grew bitter when they saw that despite Carrington’s best efforts, and their own verbal support of him, Carrington was doomed to defeat. Taylor’s admirers vastly outnumbered Carrington’s. They did not find it necessary to shout advice to their champion; but they shouted and roared with approval as Taylor, driving forward, the grin still on his face, striking heavily and blocking deftly, kept his enemy retreating before him. Carrington, locking his arms around Taylor, hugged him desperately for some seconds—until he recovered his breath, and until his head cleared, and he could fix objects firmly in his vision; and then he heaved mightily, swung Taylor from his feet and tried to throw him. Taylor’s feet could get no leverage, but his arms were still free, and with both of them he hammered the big man’s head until Carrington, in insane rage, threw Taylor from him. Taylor landed a little off balance, and before he could set himself, Carrington threw himself forward. He swung malignantly, the blow landing glancingly on Taylor’s head, staggering him. His feet struck an obstruction and he went to one knee, Carrington striking at him as he tried to rise. The blow missed, Carrington turning clear around from the force of the blow and tumbling headlong into the dust near Taylor. They clambered to their feet at the same instant, and in the next they came together with a shock that made them both reel backward. And then, still grinning, Taylor stepped lightly forward. Paying no attention to Carrington’s blows, he shot in several short, terrific, deadening uppercuts that landed fairly on the big man’s chin. Carrington’s hands dropped to his sides, his knees doubled and he fell limply forward into the dust of the street where he lay, huddled and unconscious, while turmoil raged over him. For the Danforth men in the crowd had yielded to rage over the defeat of their favorites. They had seen Danforth go down under the terrific punishment meted out to him by Taylor; they had seen Carrington suffer the same fate. Several of them drove forward, muttering profane threats. Norton, pale and watchful, fearing just such a contingency, shoved forward to the center, shouting: “Hold on, men! None of that! It’s a fair fight! Keep off, there—do you hear?”