"Eh?" said Joe, staring, "not?"
"I want to fight, Joe."
"To—fight, sir?" repeated Joe.
"Fight?" cried the Old Un rapturously. "Oh, music—sweet music t' me old ears! Fight? Oh, j'yful words! What's the old song say?
"''Appy is the first as goes
To black a eye or punch a nose!'"
"Get the mufflers on, Joe; get 'em on an' don't stand staring like a fool!"
"But, sir," said Joe, his mild eyes kindling, "d' ye mean as you want—the real thing?"
"To-day," said Ravenslee, "instead of boxing a round or two with Joe Madden, my chauffeur and mechanic, I want to see how long I can stand up to Joe Madden, undefeated champion of the world."
Joe's lean cheek flushed and he looked Ravenslee over with eyes of yearning; noted the thin flanks and slender legs that showed speed, the breadth of shoulder and long arms that spoke strength, and the deep, arched chest that showed endurance; Joe looked and sighed and shook his head.
"Sir," said he, "I honour and respect you to that degree as it would be a joy to fight such a man as you and a rare privilege t' knock you down—but, sir, if I was to knock ye down—"