As before, he avoided the rush by lightly side-stepping, driving in a vigorous left to the ear and following this with a right which raised a lump just under his opponent’s left eye. The latter backed away. Then he came in again, but more cautiously. He was beginning to respect this elusive antagonist who hit so hard, yet managed to get away untouched. It was all so new in his experience that he was utterly at a loss to know what to expect.
Round and round they circled, each watching for an opening. Suddenly Walter took the offensive. As he started to rush he slipped in the wet sawdust. His opponent saw his advantage and swung hard, but Walter caught the blow on his right forearm, and the next instant they were locked in a clinch. This was what the bully wanted. Now he would throw his antagonist and, once he had him down, that would end the battle, for his ethics knew no quarter for a fallen foe.
But again he reckoned without his host. Scientific wrestling was an unheard-of art to the young giant, while in the home gymnasium Walter had twice won the championship for his weight. For a few minutes they swayed this way and that, then Walter secured the lock he was trying for, there was an instant of straining muscles, then the bully was pinned flat on his back.
A big hand fell on Walter’s shoulder. “Son,” said Big Jim, “I hate t’ break into yer morning exercise, but you an’ me hev an engagement at Upper Lake, and we’ve got jes’ two minutes t’ ketch thet train.”
Walter jumped up at once, and then held out his hand to the discomfited bully. “Will you shake?” he asked.
To the surprise of the delighted onlookers the fallen terror of the village arose and in a manly way, though sheepishly, shook the outstretched hand, for at heart he had the right stuff in him.
“Ye licked me fair an’ square,” he mumbled. “Oi wish ye’d show me some av thim thricks.”
“I will if I ever have a chance. You ought to be a Boy Scout,” shouted Walter as he and Big Jim sprinted for the train.