Exuberant, with blood a-dance and nerves braced and tingling from the sparkling water, we faced each other upon the grassy level, Jessamy and I, stripped to the waist and with muffled fists and I very conscious of the keen eyes that appraised my slender arms, and the muscles of what uncle George would have called my 'torso.'
"I'm afraid I am—hatefully puny!" I exclaimed, casting a disparaging glance at my proportions.
"Smallish," nodded Jessamy, "smallish, but that ain't a matter to weep over, brother. Small muscles is quicker than big. Moreover, the Lord has given you a sound and healthy body and left you to develop an' do the best wi' it. Fresh air an' exercise, sledge 'ammer an' bellers'll work wonders in a week or so, mark my words. Now come on an' keep your weather peeper on my right, for look'ee your left is a feeler, good to keep your man away, to jolt him now an' then an' to feint him to an opening, then it's in wi' your right an' all o' you behind it—that's my way and I've found it a pretty good way."
"You've always won your fights, haven't you, Jessamy?"
"Pretty often—though 'tis all vanity, lad, arter all—"
"And why did you win—and often against bigger and stronger men?"
"Well, p'raps because I eat little an' drink less, or p'raps because I meant to win, or p'raps again because I knew how. However, the fightin' game is all vanity an' vexation an' keep your ogles on my right! Now, into me, lad, an' hit hard—that's your fashion—try for my chin but don't forget my right! Swing in for my ribs, Perry—and heartily! Steady boy—on your toes now!"
Such were his expressions as we danced and ducked, feinted and smote, and as often as he bade me watch his right, that same right smacked home upon my ribs or face while I wasted myself in futile yet exceedingly earnest efforts to smite in turn his ever-moving body or elusive, wagging head, what time over and under and through my guard shot his terrible fists, to tap me lightly here, to pat me there until my breath grew short. And now, while I stood to get my wind, he explained how it was done, showing me sudden volts and turns and shifts which he termed foot-work. He showed me how to drive in short-arm blows, swinging from the hips, and how to evade them; how, when occasion favoured, to hit from the shoulder with all my strength and weight behind the blow, and how to meet a ducking head with what he called an uppercut, just such a terrible stroke as had caused the downfall of the big man Tom.
Thus Jessamy alternately smote and lectured me until, warned by Diana's clear call, we donned shirts and waistcoats and strode away to breakfast.
"And how's he shaping, Jessamy?" enquired the Tinker, serving out ham, pink and savoury, from the hissing frying pan, while Diana poured out the coffee.