"I regret the necessity this time, but I will be obliged to strike you full in the face and in my excitement may hit your nose."
It required all of Quincy's dexterity to avoid the wild rushes and savage thrusts made by Wood. But Quincy understood every one of the boxer's secrets and was as light and agile on his feet as a cat. It was three minutes at least before Quincy got the desired opening, and then he landed a blow on Wood's nose that sent him flat upon his back.
"That's enough," cried the crowd, and several friends led Wood to a seat on the platform.
Quincy turned to Strout. "Now, Mr. Strout, I am at your service."
"No, sir," said Strout, "I am willing to fight a gentleman, but I don't fight with no professional prize fighter like you." Turning to the crowd: "I know all about this fellow. He is no lawyer at all, he is a regular prize fighter, and down in Boston he is known by the name of Billy Shanks."
And Then He Landed A Blow On Wood's Nose
Quincy smiled. Turning to the crowd he said, "The statement just made by Mr. Strout is like his statement to Mr. Wood. The first was a lie, the second is a lie, and the man who uttered them is a liar. Good morning, gentlemen."
Quincy went to Hiram, who helped him on with his coats. They walked along together. After they turned the corner and got out of sight of the grocery store, Hiram said:
"Geewhilikins! What a smasher you gave him. I thought you said you didn't know nothin' about fightin'."