Garrity’s lips curled in a sneer, but the flush in his face deepened, and in his heart there was a queer, dull, comprehensive pang such as he had never known before.
CHAPTER XVII
LEARNING TO BOX
About a week later Bill McBride appeared at Mr. Wendell’s study with two pair of nearly new boxing gloves dangling from his hands.
“I want to learn how to box,” he said directly to the scoutmaster. “I’m tired of trying to dope it out of a book.”
There was a rather bad bruise on one side of his face which Mr. Wendell observed without appearing to notice it.
“I’ll teach you all I know with pleasure, Bill,” he answered, smiling. “But I’m afraid that won’t be much more than the elements of the science. I haven’t had the gloves on for years.”
McBride’s eyes narrowed and his lips straightened in a firm line.
“I want to know more than elements, sir,” he stated. “I want to really know how to box.”
For a moment or two the scoutmaster stood thoughtfully silent. Then his eyes brightened.
“Of course!” he murmured. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it at once. I’ve a friend who’s a crackerjack with the gloves,” he went on to McBride. “It’s Chambers down at the bank; you probably know him. I’ll see if he won’t give you some lessons. I’ve an idea there are several other fellows who’d like to take it up.”