“Of course. The right arm’s the stronger.”
“Exactly, my lad; so keep it to use as a shield.”
“But you want to beat a boy when you fight him,” I said.
“To be sure you do, and to beat him you must be strong and able to hold out, and to do this you must be ready to keep him first of all from injuring you. It’s self-defence, so you keep your best arm to keep the enemy from making your nose swelled like yours was, Master Mercer, and from sticking his fist in your eye like Master Dicksee did in yours, Master Burr. And that isn’t all. If you are keeping him from hurting you, he goes on getting tired and more tired, and then your turn comes, and you can thrash him.”
“I see,” cried Mercer.
“No, you don’t; you’re only getting a peep yet.”
“But mustn’t you ever hit with your right fist?”
“Oh yes, at proper times. Wait: I’ll tell you when.”
“But shall we begin fighting now?” I said eagerly.
“No, not till you know what you’re going to do. Now look here, boys; I daresay some people would teach you very differently to what I do, but you’ve asked me, and I shall teach you my way. Some people let those they teach put the gloves on and begin knocking each other about, but that’s all waste of time. I want everything you do with your right or your left to be for some reason. Those two boys can’t fight, but they thrashed you two because I can see you swung your arms about anyhow, and while you were coming round with one of your wind-mill swings, they hit straight out and you had it. Do you see?”