Round 7.--Much refreshed by about six minutes' rest, Rice and Sutherland began again, and Sutherland's father watched the fight with a calm and sporting interest. He was a clean-shaved man of large size about the shoulders; but he had a pale, sad-looking face and very thin lips, and one ear larger than the other. Sutherland had to withstand a wild rush from Rice and hit Rice while he backed away from him, which pleased his father. But Rice was not stopped, and he got close to Sutherland and hit him very hard on the body until they fell into each other's arms. And Sutherland's father said, "Break! Break!" and then apologized to Travers major, who was referee. They parted, and Rice, evidently much refreshed, went after Sutherland and hit him about three or four times; then Sutherland hit him once. Then it was time.
Round 8.--Sutherland's father certainly seemed to have brought Sutherland bad luck, for in the next round Rice held his own, and though knocked down at the beginning of the round, got up and went on. And Sutherland's father asked me how many rounds had been fought, and was very much interested in my notes. And, owing to him reading them, I could not describe this round. At the end both were tired, one not more than the other.
Round 9.--Rice, feeling he had still a chance, fought as well as ever in this round, and Sutherland was clearly not taking anything like his old interest in the fight. He kept looking mournfully at his father and didn't seem to care where Rice hit him, and I could see that his father was a good deal disappointed. Rice had much the best of this round, and Sutherland bled again, though Rice did also.
Round 10.--It began all right, though both could hardly keep up their arms, and then, without a blow, suddenly Sutherland shook his head and extended his hand to Rice, and Rice shook it and the battle was over.
That was the end of what Blades wrote, but much remains to be told, and the fight, which was extraordinary in the beginning, turned out far more extraordinary at the end. I couldn't believe my senses when Sutherland gave in, and more could his father, and then came out the truth, which was sad in a way, but really much sadder for me than Sutherland. Because what I had thought was a right down glorious victory, well worth the pint of blood I had shed and the tooth I had lost, turned out to be what you might really call very little better than winning on a foul.
After the fight, Sutherland hastened to his father and asked him about Sutherland major and heard he was all right and going strong. Then he actually began to blub; and his father rotted him and asked him what the dickens was the matter with him, and how he had given in to a chap sizes smaller than himself, and then Sutherland, between moments of undoubted weeping explained.
He said:
"I never saw you in black clothes before, because at home you always wear tweeds with squares and a red tie; and seeing you in pitch black, of course I thought Tom was dead. Till then I was winning, and Rice knows I was; but after you came and I felt positive Tom was dead----"
Then Sutherland was quite unable to go on, and his father asked him however he thought he could have stood there grinning at a kid fight under such sad circumstances. Then he led Sutherland away and explained that he happened to have been attending a funeral, near Plymouth, of some old lawyer friend; and he thought he would kill two birds with one stone, as they say, and come over and have a look at Sutherland and tell him they'd heard good news of his brother and that his mother had bucked up again.
Well, there it was, and much worse for me than Sutherland, because his grief was turned into joy; but my joy was turned into grief--winning in that footling way, which didn't amount to winning at all. In fact it was mere dust, and enough to make me weep myself, only that was a thing I had never been known to do, and never shall in this world, or the next.