“’E can ‘ave the old bath-plug an’ welcome, Sir, as far as I’m concerned,” said the latter.

“Tut, tut!” said Percival.  “You must make a fight for it.  The honour of the Army is at stake.”

“I ain’t all that set on the honour of the Army,” said Elfred.  “But ’im being the challenger, shouldn’t I be justified in putting the plug in one of my gloves?”

“The rules don’t provide for such a contingency.  Hurry up now and get stripped, and I’ll give you twenty francs if you win.”

Both combatants were warmly received.  ’Enery’s decorative tattooing was much admired, and Elfred was urgently requested not to spoil the pictures.  By desire of the referee the stakes were handed to him—­Frederick producing the five francs for ’Enery—­and the battle commenced.

It was early evident that the Navy intended shock tactics, while the Army favoured a system of elastic defence.  A salvo of short-arm jabs by ’Enery was answered by long-range sniping on the part of Elfred, no direct hits being recorded.  Towards the end of the round ’Enery attempted to approach under cover of a smoke screen, but action was broken off at the sound of the gong.

The second round opened sensationally.  Elfred, on the advice of his seconds, was “making use of the ring” when he accidentally collided with his opponent coming in the reverse direction and gave him a violent thump without return.  There seemed every prospect of trouble, but clever footwork prevented the incident developing into a fracas.  Round two concluded with Elfred leading handsomely by one point to nothing.

“Two to one on Elfred,” said Percival excitedly.

“Take you—­in bath plugs,” answered Frederick, carefully entering the bet.

’Enery equalised in the third round, Elfred having incautiously wandered into the track of a stray upper-cut and bounced off.  More footwork followed, Elfred winning by about two yards.  Both were breathing heavily when time was called, and ’Enery was complaining about his bronchitis.

Skirmishing tactics in the fourth round resulted in Elfred having a narrow escape from being torpedoed beneath the belt, and during several subsequent clinches he was requested to stop studying the pictures and get on with the business.

The fifth and sixth rounds were marked by the departure of most of the spectators, and in the end a draw was the only possible verdict.

“But what about the plug, old scout?” asked Percival, as they wandered back to their quarters.

“As referee,” answered Binnie, “I gave a draw; as Battalion Boxing Board of Control I order the match to be re-fought in six months’ time, to give the men a chance to get into condition; and meanwhile as stakeholder I continue to hold the five francs and the bath-plug.”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Profiteer (to M.F.H.).  “LOOK ’ERE!—­THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I’VE BEEN OUT WITH YOUR CROWD, AN’ Y’ ’AVEN’T CAUGHT A FOX.  BEST THING YOU CAN DO IS TO GIMME BACK ME ‘SUB’ AN’ SELL YER BLOOMIN’ DOGS!”]