They were up again, the water glistening upon their faces.  Montgomery led instantly, and got his right home with a sounding smack upon the master’s forehead.  There was a shout from the colliers, and “Silence!  Order!” from the referee.  Montgomery avoided the counter, and scored with his left.  Fresh applause, and the referee upon his feet in indignation..

“No comments, gentlemen, if you please, during the rounds.”

“Just bide a bit!” growled the Master.

“Don’t talk—­fight!” said the referee, angrily.

Montgomery rubbed in the point by a flush hit upon the mouth, and the Master shambled back to his corner like an angry bear, having had all the worst of the round.

“Where’s thot seven to one?” shouted Purvis, the publican.  “I’ll take six to one!”

There were no answers.

“Five to one!”

There were givers at that.  Purvis booked them in a tattered notebook.

Montgomery began to feel happy.  He lay back with his legs outstretched, his back against the corner-post, and one gloved hand upon each rope.  What a delicious minute it was between each round.  If he could only keep out of harm’s way, he must surely wear this man out before the end of twenty rounds.  He was so slow that all his strength went for nothing.

“You’re fightin’ a winnin’ fight—­a winnin’ fight,” Ted Barton whispered in his ear.  “Go canny; tak’ no chances; you have him proper.”

But the Master was crafty.  He had fought so many battles with his maimed limb that he knew how to make the best of it.  Warily and slowly he manoeuvred round Montgomery, stepping forward and yet again forward until he had imperceptibly backed him into his corner.  The student suddenly saw a flash of triumph upon the grim face, and a gleam in the dull, malignant eyes.  The Master was upon him.  He sprang aside and was on the ropes.  The Master smashed in one of his terrible upper-cuts, and Montgomery half broke it with his guard.  The student sprang the other way and was against the other converging rope.  He was trapped in the angle.  The Master sent in another with a hoggish grunt which spoke of the energy behind it.  Montgomery ducked, but got a jab from the left upon the mark.  He closed with his man.

“Break away!  Break away!” cried the referee.  Montgomery disengaged, and got a swinging blow on the ear as he did so.  It had been a damaging round for him, and the Croxley people were shouting their delight.  “Gentlemen, I will not have this noise!” Stapleton roared.  “I have been accustomed to preside at a well-conducted club, and not at a bear-garden.”  This little man, with the tilted hat and the bulging forehead, dominated the whole assembly.  He was like a head-master among his boys.  He glared round him, and nobody cared to meet his eye.  Anastasia had kissed the Master when he resumed his seat.

“Good lass.  Do’t again!” cried the laughing crowd, and the angry Master shook his glove at her, as she flapped her towel in front of him.  Montgomery was weary and a little sore, but not depressed.  He had learned something.  He would not again be tempted into danger.