"What you wants, principally, is to hit hard, an' quick an' straight." Bounce laid it down as a law, and suiting his own actions accordingly, he bounced in and hit Carstairs in the eye, so that it afterwards turned a lively shade of deep, blue-black.
Bounce apologized, then he grinned like a healthy fiend. "It do show up," he observed, "but a black eye ain't near so painful as a good un on the nose."
Carstairs smiled too. "Oh! it doesn't matter in the least," he said. "It's part of the game. Unfortunately I'm going home to see my people to-morrow." He gazed at it thoughtfully in the looking-glass in the lavatory. "The guv'nor'll understand, but the mater——"
"I knows, sir."
Next day Carstairs went home to the little vicarage of Chilcombe, and on his way to the station he caught sight of a rough-looking man in well-worn gaiters, a fur cap and a heavy coat with big poacher's pockets, limping down a side street. Carstairs felt angry. "That's the swine," he said, to himself. Then a sudden surge of pity overwhelmed him. "Poor devil! he does limp."
He got a seat in the corner of an empty third-class carriage and opened a paper he had purchased, but he did not read, he thought of the rough-looking man with the limp, of the beautiful girl in Scotland and Darwen—the three seemed inextricably mixed up, somehow. "Darwen's a skunk," he said, but that was the only definite conclusion at which he could arrive.
Meanwhile the train hurried him homewards, and very soon he arrived at the main line junction, and changed into the crawling local. He had written to say which train he would arrive by, and as the train drew up at the pretty country station, he saw the tall, black-garbed figure of his father on the platform. They shook hands solemnly, and eyes so much like his own beamed approval and pleasure as the strong brown cricketer's hand gripped his. Suddenly they sobered down into a look half amusement, half pain, as they rested on the discoloured skin (by careful doctoring reduced to a bright yellow) round his eye.
"What's the matter with the eye, Jack?"
"Oh, that's boxing."
"Ah!" It was a sigh of relief and distinct approval.