They had circled round several times, when Zeigler thought he saw his chance, and feinting quickly, let fly with his left.  Instead of parrying the blow, Tom dodged it by throwing his head back.  The opportunity was a capital one to counter on Zeigler, but Tom made no effort to do so.  It looked as if he lacked the quickness and skill, and failed to see his chance.

Zeigler now began edging nearer.  He had come within an inch of reaching the face of Tom, when he failed to counter.  A little closer, and he was sure he could “knock him out.”  At any rate, if he failed to do so, he had nothing to fear from a foe who did not know enough to use an elemental advantage.

A quick step forward at the instant of feinting with his right, and Zeigler again let fly with his left straight from the shoulder.  It was a vicious blow, and, had it landed, would have done damage; but a flirt of the head allowed it to glide harmlessly over the shoulder.  At the instant of doing so, Tom cross-countered with a quickness and force that could not have been excelled.  That is to say, as Zeigler’s left glove was darting past Tom’s left ear, and the momentum of the young man’s body was throwing him forward, Tom’s right hand shot across the extended arm of the other, and landed with fearful force on the nose and mouth of his opponent.

It was a fierce drive; for its effect was intensified by the fact that Tom’s glove met the head of the other as it was coming toward him.  It would have been bad enough had it landed on a stationary object, but the object was approaching from the opposite direction.

Tom and the two clerks were startled by the effect of the blow, for Zeigler went down like a log, rolling over on his back, his hands flapping full length above his head, while he lay perfectly unconscious.

But when water was dashed in his face he revived.  It was some time before he freed his mouth and nose of the crimson result of colliding with the glove; but, aided by the clerks, he donned his coat and vest, and assumed something like a presentable condition.

While this was going on, Tom Gordon sat in a chair a few feet away, looking on as though he felt little interest in the matter.  He did not help shape the other up, for two reasons.  His aid was not necessary, and, again, he knew it would not be acceptable to his discomfited antagonist.

“A rather neat blow, Zeigler,” remarked Tom; “when you wish to even up matters, I will be ready to accommodate you.”

It sounded strange to the other clerks to hear the gentle Tom Gordon speak thus to the young man who had played the bully so long over him.  They concluded that the crushed worm had at last turned.  The vanquished one made no reply except to give the other a look of hatred, and leave the room.