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After his customary moment of hesitation, he had at the Riptonian's neck. The Riptonian handed him off in a manner that recalled the palmy days of the old Prize Ring handing off was always slightly vigorous in the Ripton v. Wrykyn match and dashed over the line in the extreme corner. There was anguish on the two touch-lines. Trevor looked savage, but made no comment. The team lined up in silence.
Then suddenly the Riptonian's blows began to weaken. He got home his right on the head, and Sheen hardly felt it. And in a flash there came to him the glorious certainty that the game was his. He was winning winning winning. "That's enough," said the referee. The Ripton man was leaning against the ropes, utterly spent, at almost the same spot where Sheen had leaned at the end of the first round.
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