"College!" exploded Mallow. "What the devil does a college athlete know about a dock-fight?"
"Ever see a game of football?"
"No."
"Well, take it from me that it's the roughest game going. It's a game where you put your boot in a man's face when he's not looking. Mallow, they kill each other in that game. And Ellison was one of the best, fifteen years ago. He used to wade through a ton of solid, scrapping, plunging flesh. And nine times out of ten he used to get through. I want you to beat him up, and it's because I do that I'm warning you not to underestimate him. On shipboard he handled me as you would a bag of salt; damn him! He's a surprise to me. He looks as if he had lived clean out here. There's no booze-sign hanging out on him, like there is on you and me."
"Booze never hurt me any."
"You're galvanized inside," said Craig, staring again at Elsa. He wished he knew how to hurt her, too. But he might as well throw stones at the stars.
"How would you like to put one over on this chap Ellison?"
"In what way?"
Mallow smoked for a moment, then touched his breast pocket significantly.
"Not for mine," returned Craig. "Cards are my long suit. I'm no second-story man, not yet."