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.