“Charge of me!”
“Yes,” said my uncle. “Belcher has consented to train you for the coming battle if you are willing to enter.”
“I am sure I am very much obliged to you,” cried Jim, heartily. “Unless my uncle should wish to train me, there is no one I would rather have.”
“Nay, Jim; I’ll stay with you a few days, but Belcher knows a deal more about training than I do. Where will the quarters be?”
“I thought it would be handy for you if we fixed it at the George, at Crawley. Then, if we have choice of place, we might choose Crawley Down, for, except Molesey Hurst, and, maybe, Smitham Bottom, there isn’t a spot in the country that would compare with it for a mill. Do you agree with that?”
“With all my heart,” said Jim.
“Then you’re my man from this hour on, d’ye see?” said Belcher. “Your food is mine, and your drink is mine, and your sleep is mine, and all you’ve to do is just what you are told. We haven’t an hour to lose, for Wilson has been in half-training this month back. You saw his empty glass to-night.”
“Jim’s fit to fight for his life at the present moment,” said Harrison. “But we’ll both come down to Crawley to-morrow. So good night, Sir Charles.”
“Good night, Roddy,” said Jim. “You’ll come down to Crawley and see me at my training quarters, will you not?”
And I heartily promised that I would.