"
"You've always won your fights, haven't you, Jessamy?"
"Pretty often--though 'tis all vanity, lad, arter all--"
"And why did you win--and often against bigger and stronger men?"
"Well, p'raps because I eat little an' drink less, or p'raps because I
meant to win, or p'raps again because I knew how. However, the
fightin' game is all vanity an' vexation an' keep your ogles on my
right! Now, into me, lad, an' hit hard--that's your fashion--try for
my chin but don't forget my right! Swing in for my ribs, Perry--and
heartily! Steady boy--on your toes now!"
Such were his expressions as we danced and ducked, feinted and smote,
and as often as he bade me watch his right, that same right smacked
home upon my ribs or face while I wasted myself in futile yet
exceedingly earnest efforts to smite in turn his ever-moving body or
elusive, wagging head, what time over and under and through my guard
shot his terrible fists, to tap me lightly here, to pat me there until
my breath grew short. And now, while I stood to get my wind, he
explained how it was done, showing me sudden volts and turns and
shifts which he termed foot-work. He showed me how to drive in
short-arm blows, swinging from the hips, and how to evade them; how,
when occasion favoured, to hit from the shoulder with all my strength
and weight behind the blow, and how to meet a ducking head with what
he called an uppercut, just such a terrible stroke as had caused the
downfall of the big man Tom.
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