Feint him; use your legs; draw him about.

He'll lose his wind then in no time, and you can go into him.

Hit at his body too; we'll take care of his frontispiece by-and-by." Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw already that he couldn't go in and finish the Slogger off at mere hammer and tongs, so changed his tactics completely in the third round.

He now fights cautiously, getting away from and parrying the Slogger's lunging hits, instead of trying to counter, and leading his enemy a dance all round the ring after him.

"He's funking; go in, Williams," "Catch him up," "Finish him off," scream the small boys of the Slogger party.
"Just what we want," thinks East, chuckling to himself, as he sees Williams, excited by these shouts, and thinking the game in his own hands, blowing himself in his exertions to get to close quarters again, while Tom is keeping away with perfect ease.
They quarter over the ground again and again, Tom always on the defensive.
The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly blown.
"Now, then, Tom," sings out East, dancing with delight.