It was strength against activity—­that was evident from the first.  The Master stood stolidly upon his K leg.  It gave him a tremendous pedestal; one could hardly imagine his being knocked down.  And he could pivot round upon it with extraordinary quickness; but his advance or retreat was ungainly.  His frame, however, was so much larger and broader than that of the student, and his brown, massive face looked so resolute and menacing that the hearts of the Wilson party sank within them.  There was one heart, however, which had not done so.  It was that of Robert Montgomery.

Any nervousness which he may have had completely passed away now that he had his work before him.  Here was something definite—­this hard-faced, deformed Hercules to beat, with a career as the price of beating him.  He glowed with the joy of action; it thrilled through his nerves.  He faced his man with little in-and-out steps, breaking to the left, breaking to the right, feeling his way, while Craggs, with a dull, malignant eye, pivoted slowly upon his weak leg, his left arm half extended, his right sunk low across the mark.  Montgomery led with his left, and then led again, getting lightly home each time.  He tried again, but the Master had his counter ready, and Montgomery reeled back from a harder blow than he had given.  Anastasia, the woman, gave a shrill cry of encouragement, and her man let fly his right.  Montgomery ducked under it, and in an instant the two were in each other’s arms.

“Break away!  Break away!” said the referee.

The Master struck upwards on the break, and shook Montgomery with the blow.  Then it was “time.”  It had been a spirited opening round.  The people buzzed into comment and applause.  Montgomery was quite fresh, but the hairy chest of the Master was rising and falling.  The man passed a sponge over his head while Anastasia flapped the towel before him.  “Good lass! good lass!” cried the crowd, and cheered her.

The men were up again, the Master grimly watchful, Montgomery as alert as a kitten.  The Master tried a sudden rush, squattering along with his awkward gait, but coming faster than one would think.  The student slipped aside and avoided him.  The Master stopped, grinned, and shook his head.  Then he motioned with his hand as an invitation to Montgomery to come to him.  The student did so and led with his left, but got a swinging right counter in the ribs in exchange.  The heavy blow staggered him, and the Master came scrambling in to complete his advantage; but Montgomery, with his greater activity, kept out of danger until the call of “time.”  A tame round, and the advantage with the Master.

“T’ Maister’s too strong for him,” said a smelter to his neighbour.

“Ay; but t’other’s a likely lad.  Happen we’ll see some sport yet.  He can joomp rarely.”

“But t’ Maister can stop and hit rarely.  Happen he’ll mak’ him joomp when he gets his nief upon him.”