Then he began to mix it up in a lively way, and three heavy blows landed on Dick's body.

But Dodge didn't get back out of it unscathed.

One hard thump on his chest, in particular, staggered him.
Then at it again went both men, fire in Dodge's eye, mockery in Dick's.
The blows fell fast and furious, until the lookers-on wanted to cheer.

There was little of foot work, little of getting away.
It was heavy, forceful give-and-take until failing wind compelled both men to draw back.
They kept at it, but sparring for wind until the call of time came.
Both men were then hustled back into their corners, sponged, kneaded, fanned.

A minute was mighty short time in which to recover fighting trim from such mauling as had been exchanged.
"Time!" Biff, bump, pound! It was the style of fighting that Dodge was forcing, and it had to be met.