Gahey was of different build altogether. The profusion of hair that covered his body resolved itself into a mane almost in the hollow of the breast bone. His flesh was shrivelled and dried; his limbs looked like raw pig-iron, which had in some strange manner been transformed into the semblance of a human being.
"Hell-fire and Moleskin Joe," I heard the gamblers say as they threw down their cards and scraped the money from the ground. "This will be a good set-to. Moleskin can handle his mits, and by this and that, Hell-fire is no slow one!"
Joe stepped into the ring, hitched up his trousers and waited. Gahey followed, stood for a moment, then swung out for his enemy's head, only to find his blow intercepted by an upward sweep of the arm of Moleskin, who followed up his movement of defence by a right feint for the body of Gahey, and a straight left that went home from the shoulder. Gahey replied with a heavy smash to the ribs, and Joe looked at him with a smile.
"See and don't hurt your knuckles on my ribs, Gahey," he said.
"I was only feelin' if yer heart was beatin' just a trifle faster than the usual," replied Gahey.
Both men smiled, but the smile was a mask, behind which, clear-headed and cool-eyed, each of them looked for an opening and an opportunity to drive home a blow. To each belonged the wisdom bred of many weary, aching fights and desperate gruellings. Gahey was by far the quicker man; his long brown arms shot out like whiplashes, and his footwork was very clever. He was a man, untrained in the art, but a natural fighter. His missing thumb seemed to place him at no disadvantage. Joe was slower but by far the stronger man. He never lost his head, and his blows had the impact of a knotted club. When he landed on the flesh of the body, every knuckle left its own particular mark; when he landed on the face, there was a general disfigurement.
Gahey broke through the mask of his smile, and struck out with his right. In his eyes the purpose betrayed itself, and his opponent, forewarned, caught the blow on his arm. Hell-fire darted in with the left and took Joe on the stomach. The impact was sharp and sudden; my mate winced a trifle slightly, but the next moment he forced a smile into his face.
"You're savin' your knuckles, matey," he said to Gahey. "There's no danger of you breakin' them on the soft of my belly."
"Well, I'll test them here," Gahey retorted, and came in with a resounding smack to Moleskin's jaw. Joe received the blow stolidly, and swung a right for Gahey, but, missing his man, he fell to the ground.