When time was called, they stood and looked at each other for a second or so like two newly found friends.
"That was good, wasn't it, sir?" the navvy said.
"You do make the pace," Carstairs answered, with genuine admiration.
The man stroked his nose tenderly. "Same to you, sir," he said, with a grin.
Their seconds came and took them away to their corners and sat them down on one man's knees while another fanned them with big, red pocket handkerchiefs.
"'It 'im in the body," Bounce whispered. "You could 'it 'im in the clock all day, an' 'e'd on'y think you was tickling of 'im."
"Time" was called, and the navvy held out his hand again just to show that they were still on the best of good terms. Carstairs grasped it warmly, and again the five hundred heads nodded strong approval. They stepped back a pace and the navvy said: "Are you ready?"
Carstairs said "Yes," and promptly the man sprang in, letting drive furiously right and left. There was a sameness about his methods, and he swung his shoulders freely and openly before each hit, so that Carstairs knew exactly where and when they were coming, and dodged them easily; he ducked low to the left, and got in a swinging right on the short ribs. The man grunted, his breath had been short before. He stopped and took a deep breath, Carstairs magnanimously standing clear of him; then he rushed again, and Carstairs got him in the same place; again he took a deep breath and rushed, exhaustion was making him slower. Carstairs ducked to the right this time, and got in a beautiful left, fairly and squarely on the solar plexus. The man dropped like a log, and lay gasping.
