Outside of Hutton's, who cheered him for the honour of their house, he had few well-wishers; but among them was a sprinkling of boys bearing the great Whig names--Cowpers, Sackvilles, Osborns--for whose sake and for its own tradition the ring would give him fair play.
The second round began warily, Wesley sparring for an opening, Randall defensive, facing round and round, much as a bullock fronts a terrier.

He knew his game; to keep up his guard and wait for a chance to get in with his long left.

He was cunning, too; appeared slower than he was, tempting the other to take liberties, and, towards the end of the round, to step in a shade too closely.

It was but a shade.

Wesley, watching his eye, caught an instant's warning, flung his head far back and sprang away--not quickly enough to avoid a thud on the ribs.