The Pothunters | Page 2

with the silver medal.
As for Tony, he was more a fighter than a sparrer. When he paid a visit
to his uncle's house he boxed with Allen daily, and invariably got the
worst of it. Allen was too quick for him. But he was clever with his
hands. His supply of pluck was inexhaustible, and physically he was as
hard as nails.
'Is your ankle all right again, now?' he asked.
'Pretty well. It wasn't much of a sprain. Interfered with my training a
good bit, though. I ought by rights to be well under eleven stone.
You're all right, I suppose?'
'Not bad. Boxing takes it out of you more than footer or a race. I was in
good footer training long before I started to get fit for Aldershot. But I
think I ought to get along fairly well. Any idea who's in against us?'
'Harrow, Felsted, Wellington. That's all, I think.'
'St Paul's?'
'No.'
'Good. Well, I hope your first man mops you up. I've a conscientious
objection to scrapping with you.'
Allen laughed. 'You'd be all right,' he said, 'if you weren't so beastly
slow with your guard. Why don't you wake up? You hit like blazes.'
'I think I shall start guarding two seconds before you lead. By the way,
don't have any false delicacy about spoiling my aristocratic features.
On the ground of relationship, you know.'
'Rather not. Let auld acquaintance be forgot. I'm not Thomson for the
present. I'm Rugby.'

'Just so, and I'm St Austin's. Personally, I'm going for the knock-out.
You won't feel hurt?'
This was in the days before the Headmasters' Conference had abolished
the knock-out blow, and a boxer might still pay attentions to the point
of his opponent's jaw with an easy conscience.
'I probably shall if it comes off,' said Allen. 'I say, it occurs to me that
we shall be weighing-in in a couple of minutes, and I haven't started to
change yet. Good, I've not brought evening dress or somebody else's
footer clothes, as usually happens on these festive occasions.'
He was just pulling on his last boot when a Gymnasium official
appeared in the doorway.
'Will all those who are entering for the boxing get ready for the
weighing-in, please?' he said, and a general exodus ensued.
The weighing-in at the Public Schools' Boxing Competition is
something in the nature of a religious ceremony, but even religious
ceremonies come to an end, and after a quarter of an hour or so Tony
was weighed in the balance and found correct. He strolled off on a tour
of inspection.
After a time he lighted upon the St Austin's Gym Instructor, whom he
had not seen since they had parted that morning, the one on his way to
the dressing-room, the other to the refreshment-bar for a modest
quencher.
'Well, Mr Graham?'
'Hullo, Dawkins. What time does this show start? Do you know when
the middle-weights come on?'
'Well, you can't say for certain. They may keep 'em back a bit or they
may make a start with 'em first thing. No, the light-weights are going to
start. What number did you draw, sir?'
'One.'
'Then you'll be in the first middle-weight pair. That'll be after these two
gentlemen.'
'These two gentlemen', the first of the light-weights, were by this time
in the middle of a warmish opening round. Tony watched them with
interest and envy. 'How beastly nippy they are,' he said.
'Wish I could duck like that,' he added.
'Well, the 'ole thing there is you 'ave to watch the other man's eyes. But
light-weights is always quicker at the duck than what heavier men are.

You get the best boxing in the light-weights, though the feathers spar
quicker.'
Soon afterwards the contest finished, amidst volleys of applause. It had
been a spirited battle, and an exceedingly close thing. The umpires
disagreed. After a short consultation, the referee gave it as his opinion
that on the whole R. Cloverdale, of Bedford, had had a shade the worse
of the exchanges, and that in consequence J. Robinson, of St Paul's,
was the victor. This was what he meant. What he said was, 'Robinson
wins,' in a sharp voice, as if somebody were arguing about it. The pair
then shook hands and retired.
'First bout, middle-weights,' shrilled the M.C. 'W.P. Ross (Wellington)
and A.C.R. Graham (St Austin's).'
Tony and his opponent retired for a moment to the changing-room, and
then made their way amidst applause on to the raised stage on which
the ring was pitched. Mr W.P. Ross proceeded to the farther corner of
the ring, where he sat down and was vigorously massaged by his two
seconds. Tony took the opposite corner and submitted himself to the
same process. It is a very cheering thing