"You're right. Well, don't forget."
And they might have been seen speeding over the dark road to Windsor, later on, on their bicycles. They arrived in the town just before the performance was due to start, and got seats close up, near the stage, which had been converted into a ring.
All around them there was the noise of the crowded audience. Jack and Fane sat down guiltily, wearing plain tweed caps in the place of their college caps, but full of excitement. There was not long to wait.
"Gen'l'men!" shouted the announcer hoarsely; "Harry Nelson, light-weight champeen of Orstralyer!"
Nelson smiled and bowed. He had a square, alert-looking face and bright eyes.
The champion had brought his own sparring-partner, and shortly his robe was slung off, and he got to work. Jack and Fane whistled with admiration at the man's magnificent physique. It seemed incredible that such strength could be packed away in so small a parcel, for he was no more than five inches over the five-foot mark.
The spar was a brilliant one, as Nelson had opportunities for display that a serious contest would not have afforded him. Jack and Fane sat entranced at the show, watching the fast little fellow dancing about the ring as lightly as a feather. They were sorry when the bout came to an end. Nelson remained in his corner, and presently the announcer came forward with a surprise to spring on the house.
"I have much pleasure in stating," he said, "that Nelson will box four rounds with any man under eleven stone in the audience. If anyone can last the full four rounds, the management will present him with five pounds!"
"Hold me back!" said Jack, pretending to struggle towards the aisle, but taking care not to be successful.
"Hullo!" said Fane, suddenly. "Somebody giving it a flutter!"