“Joe,” said he, when his wind was somewhat recovered, “that makes it thirty dollars I owe you, I think?”

“Why, sir,” said Joe, who also showed some slight signs of wear, but whose breathing was soft and regular, “why, sir, you couldn’t call that last one a real knockdown—­”

“You ’m a liar, Joe, a liar!” cried the Old Un.  “Blimy, Guv, Joe’s a-tellin’ you crackers, s’ help me—­your ’ands touched the floor, didn’t they?”

“And my knees, too,” nodded Ravenslee, “also my elbow—­no, that was last time or the time before.”

“Well, then, tell this lying Joe-lad o’ mine as ’e surely did knock ye down.  Lord, Joe!” cried the Old Un, waxing pathetic, “’ow can ye go takin’ money from a pore old cove like I be.  Joe, I blushes for ye—­an’—­Time, Time there, both on ye!”

“But we don’t want any more, do we, sir?” enquired Joe.

“Why, yes, I think I can go another round or so.”

“There y’ are, Joe, the Guv’s surely a game cove.  So get at it, me lad, an’ try an’ knock it up to fifty dollars—­’arves, Joe, mind!”

“But, sir,” began Joe, eyeing the livid blotches on Ravenslee’s white skin, “don’t ye think—­”

“Time—­oh, Time, Time!” shrieked the Old Un.  Whereupon Ravenslee sprang to the centre of the ring, and once again the air resounded with tramp of feet and pant of breath.  Twice Ravenslee staggers beneath Joe’s mighty left, but watchful ever and having learned much, Ravenslee keeps away, biding his time—­ducks a swing, sidesteps a drive, and blocking a vicious hook—­smacks home his long left to Joe’s ribs, rocks him with a swinging uppercut, drives in a lightning left and right, and Joe goes down with a crash.

Even while the Old Un stared in wide-eyed, gaping amaze, Joe was on his feet again, serene and calm as ever, only his great chest laboured somewhat, but Ravenslee shook his head.

“I guess that’ll be about enough, Joe,” said he.

“Guv,” cried the Old Un, seizing Ravenslee’s right hand, boxing glove and all, and shaking it to and fro, “you’re a credit to us, you do us bloomin’ proud—­strike me pink, ye do!  ’Ere ’s Joe ‘ammered you an’ ‘ammered you—­look at your bloomin’ chest—­lumme!  ’Ere ’s Joe been knockin’ ye down an’ knockin’ ye down, an’ you comin’ up smilin’ for more an’ gettin’ it—­’ere’s Joe been a-poundin’ of ye all over the ring, yet you can finish strong an’ speedy enough to put Joe down—­blimy, Guv, you’re a wonder an’ no error!”

“I don’t think Joe fought his hardest, Old Un.”

“If ’e didn’t,” cried the old man, “I’ll punch ’im on the nose so ’e won’t never smell nothink no more.”

“Sir,” said Joe, “in the first round p’raps I did go a bit easylike, but arter that I came at you as ‘ard an’ ’eavy as I could.  I ’it you where an’ ‘ow I could, barrin’ your face.”

“I hope I shall soon be good enough for you to go for my face as well, Joe.”

“But, sir—­if I give you a black eye—­”