This time he moaned.

His eyes were open, though they had a somewhat glassy look in them.
Dawley was counting off the seconds in measured tones.
"-- seven, eight, nine--ten!" Pen had struggled to rise to his feet, but sank back with a gasp of despair and rage.
"Mr.Pennington loses the count and the fight," announced Referee Remington coolly.

"I don't believe we're needed here, Dawley.

The seconds can handle the wreck.

Come along." As the two officials of the meeting hustled out of the barn, Dalzell gave his attention to helping his chum, while Farley went over to offer his services in getting the vanquished midshipman into shape.
"There were times when I could have closed both of Pennington's eyes," murmured Dave to Dan.