"Are you ready, sir?" he asked, with quite a genial smile.
"Yes," Carstairs answered.
"Three minute rounds," Bounce said, taking out the fine, half-hunter watch that had been presented to him for rescuing a drowning man.
The two combatants agreed.
"Shake hands, then." They reached out and gripped each other with a strong, hearty grip, and five hundred heads nodded grave approval.
"Now! Time!"
As soon as the word was out of Bounce's mouth, the navvy sprang at Carstairs like a tiger. The royal light of battle was in his eyes, there was positive joy written large and bold over all his countenance.
Carstairs was serious, very serious, and quite calm; he ducked the man's furious left and right straight drives, and got in a useful stop hit with his left in the face, then broke ground. But the navvy was on him again like a whirlwind, while five hundred gruff voices shouted.
"One for the toff. First blood for the toff. 'Is nose is bleeding. Don't forget that five pound, Charlie. Mind, your mates is watching you."
Carstairs felt the huge, bony fists whistle past his ears, and he ducked and ducked again to the furious straight drives. He began to smile, too; the pleasure of it was entering into him, the important issue was slipping away from his mind. He hit the navvy heavily about the face, and received one or two glancing blows himself.