“This matter has gone rather far,” said my uncle. “I think, Harrison, that you are too good a sportsman to prevent your nephew from showing whether he takes after his uncle.”
“It’s very different from me,” cried Harrison, in great distress. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do, gentlemen. I never thought to stand up in a ring again, but I’ll take on Joe Berks with pleasure, just to give a bit o’ sport to this company.”
Boy Jim stepped across and laid his hand upon the prize-fighter’s shoulder.
“It must be so, uncle,” I heard him whisper. “I am sorry to go against your wishes, but I have made up my mind, and I must carry it through.”
Harrison shrugged his huge shoulders.
“Jim, Jim, you don’t know what you are doing! But I’ve heard you speak like that before, boy, and I know that it ends in your getting your way.”
“I trust, Harrison, that your opposition is withdrawn?” said my uncle.
“Can I not take his place?”
“You would not have it said that I gave a challenge and let another carry it out?” whispered Jim. “This is my one chance. For Heaven’s sake don’t stand in my way.”
The smith’s broad and usually stolid face was all working with his conflicting emotions. At last he banged his fist down upon the table.