“Time!” cried Daly, before the bruised one could reply; and so ended round two, from which I retired covered with dust and glory.
I felt very elated, and was quite pleased with myself now that I had, stood up to my man. It seemed perfectly plain I had the battle in my own hands, so I inwardly resolved if possible to bring the affair to an end in the next round, and let my man off easy.
Conceited ass that I was! To my amazement and consternation, Whipcord came up to the scratch on time being called in an entirely new light. Instead of being the careless slogger I had taken him for, he went to work now in a most deliberate and scientific manner. It gradually dawned on me that I had been played with so far, and that my man was only now beginning to give his mind to the business. Ass that I had been! Poor wretch that I was!
Before the round had well begun I was reeling about like a ninepin. The little knowledge of pugilism I had, or thought I had, was like child’s play against the deliberate downright assault of this practised hand. I did what I could, but it was very little. The laughter of my opponents and the gibes of my backers all tended to flurry me and lose me my head.
Let me draw a veil over that scene.
My opponent was not one of the sort to give quarter. He had had a blow of mine on his chin in the last round, and he had heard the laughter and cheers which greeted it. It was his turn now, and he took his turn as long as I could stand up before him. It seemed as if “time!” would never be called. I was faint and sick, and my face—
Ah! that last was a finishing stroke. I could keep my feet no longer, and fell back into Flanagan’s arms amidst a perfect roar of laughter and applause.
At that moment the shame was almost more bitter to me than the pain. This then was the result of my high living! This was what I had got by turning up my nose at my lot in Beadle Square, and aspiring to associate with my betters! This was the manner in which I was to make an impression on my old schoolfellow, and improve my footing with my new friends! No wonder I felt ashamed.
“You’d better invest in a little raw beefsteak,” said Flanagan; “that’s what will do you most good.”
This was all the comfort I got. The fight being over, everybody lost his interest in me and my opponent, and, as if nothing had happened, proceeded to re-discuss the question of playing cards or taking a walk.