Nods of approval followed this announcement.
“Put on your gloves.”
Dan threw off his jacket, tossing it outside the ropes, turned up his trousers then sat down, extending his hands for the boxing gloves.
“The youngster either doesn’t know what he is going up against, or else he has a lot of confidence in himself,” muttered one of the officers on the bridge.
Both men tried their gloves by opening and closing their hands, after which they sat up, glancing at the referee expectantly.
“This is to be a fair battle, mates,” began the referee. “The one who commits a foul loses the match, and maybe he might get worse if the foul is very foul. The rounds will be three minutes each, with a minute’s wait between. No striking in the clinches, but either party is free to hit his opponent in the breakaway. Do you both understand?”
The men nodded.
“I guess that’s about all, then. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” answered Dan and Kester in chorus.
“Shake hands and begin.”