"An' you've sure-ly got a punch, sir. Ain't 'e, Old Un?"
"Like a perishin' triphammer!" nodded the Old Un. "Likewise, sir, you've a wonderful judgment o' distance—but, sir, you need experience!"
"That's what I'm after, Joe."
"And you take too many chances; you ain't larned caution yet."
"That you must teach me, Joe."
"Which I surely will, sir. In the next round, subject to no objection, I propose to knock ye down, sir."
"Which means two dollars fifty for each on us, Joe—mind that," added the Old Un.
"So fight more cautious, sir, do," pleaded Joe, "and—look out."
"Time!" croaked the Old Un. "Round two! And Guv, look out for yer p'int, cover yer mark, an' keep a heye on yer kidney-pit!"
Once again they faced each other, but this time it was Joe who circled quick and catlike, massive shoulders bowed, knees bent, craggy chin grim and firm-set, but blue eyes serene and mild as ever. A moment's silent sparring, a quick tread of feet, and Joe feints Ravenslee into an opening, swings for his chin, misses by an inch, and ducking a vicious counter, drives home a smashing body-blow and, staggering weakly, Ravenslee goes down full length.