Of course, the yearling, who now realized he had something more than a dummy to fight, manoeuvred at Greg's left side after that.
The third round was drawing to a close.

Butler landed one on the side of young Holmes's head that sent the plebe spinning.

Yet, as he swung, Greg dropped a hard blow on Mr.Butler's already damaged nose.

There was a gasp of pain from the yearling.
"Time!" called Mr.Connors.
Greg went back to his seconds, a good deal jarred, his wind troubled, and his left eye rapidly assuming a most ugly look.

One more really good one from the larger fighter would put the plebe out of the affair.
"Be cool, now, old chap," admonished Dick in an undertone, as he and Anstey worked over their comrade.