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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Croxley Master: A Great Tale Of The
+Prize Ring, by Arthur Conan Doyle
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Croxley Master: A Great Tale Of The Prize Ring
+
+Author: Arthur Conan Doyle
+
+Release Date: December 30, 2011 [EBook #38443]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROXLEY MASTER: A GREAT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Gerard Arthus, Dianna Adair and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from scans of public domain material
+produced by Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  Illustration: The Fighter in the outdoor ring.
+
+
+
+
+  THE CROXLEY MASTER
+
+  A GREAT TALE OF THE PRIZE RING
+
+  BY
+
+  A. CONAN DOYLE
+
+  Illustration: The Fighter in the outdoor ring.
+
+  NEW YORK
+  McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
+  MCMVII
+
+  _Copyright, 1907, by McClure, Phillips & Co._
+
+
+
+
+_THE CROXLEY MASTER_
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+Mr. Robert Montgomery was seated at his desk, his head upon his hands,
+in a state of the blackest despondency. Before him was the open ledger
+with the long columns of Dr. Oldacre's prescriptions. At his elbow lay
+the wooden tray with the labels in various partitions, the cork box, the
+lumps of twisted sealing-wax, while in front a rank of empty bottles
+waited to be filled. But his spirits were too low for work. He sat in
+silence, with his fine shoulders bowed and his head upon his hands.
+
+Outside, through the grimy surgery window over a foreground of blackened
+brick and slate, a line of enormous chimneys like Cyclopean pillars
+upheld the lowering, dun-coloured cloud-bank. For six days in the week
+they spouted smoke, but to-day the furnace fires were banked, for it was
+Sunday. Sordid and polluting gloom hung over a district blighted and
+blasted by the greed of man. There was nothing in the surroundings to
+cheer a desponding soul, but it was more than his dismal environment
+which weighed upon the medical assistant.
+
+His trouble was deeper and more personal. The winter session was
+approaching. He should be back again at the University completing the
+last year which would give him his medical degree; but alas! he had not
+the money with which to pay his class fees, nor could he imagine how he
+could procure it. Sixty pounds were wanted to make his career, and it
+might have been as many thousands for any chance there seemed to be of
+his obtaining it.
+
+He was roused from his black meditation by the entrance of Dr. Oldacre
+himself, a large, clean-shaven, respectable man, with a prim manner and
+an austere face. He had prospered exceedingly by the support of the
+local Church interest, and the rule of his life was never by word or
+action to run a risk of offending the sentiment which had made him. His
+standard of respectability and of dignity was exceedingly high, and he
+expected the same from his assistants. His appearance and words were
+always vaguely benevolent. A sudden impulse came over the despondent
+student. He would test the reality of this philanthropy.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Dr. Oldacre," said he, rising from his chair; "I
+have a great favour to ask of you."
+
+The doctor's appearance was not encouraging. His mouth suddenly
+tightened, and his eyes fell.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Montgomery?"
+
+"You are aware, sir, that I need only one more session to complete my
+course."
+
+"So you have told me."
+
+"It is very important to me, sir."
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"The fees, Dr. Oldacre, would amount to about sixty pounds."
+
+"I am afraid that my duties call me elsewhere, Mr. Montgomery."
+
+"One moment, sir! I had hoped, sir, that perhaps, if I signed a paper
+promising you interest upon your money, you would advance this sum to
+me. I will pay you back, sir, I really will. Or, if you like, I will
+work it off after I am qualified."
+
+The doctor's lips had thinned into a narrow line. His eyes were raised
+again, and sparkled indignantly.
+
+"Your request is unreasonable, Mr. Montgomery. I am surprised that you
+should have made it. Consider, sir, how many thousands of medical
+students there are in this country. No doubt there are many of them who
+have a difficulty in finding their fees. Am I to provide for them all?
+Or why should I make an exception in your favour? I am grieved and
+disappointed, Mr. Montgomery, that you should have put me into the
+painful position of having to refuse you." He turned upon his heel, and
+walked with offended dignity out of the surgery.
+
+The student smiled bitterly, and turned to his work of making up the
+morning prescriptions. It was poor and unworthy work--work which any
+weakling might have done as well, and this was a man of exceptional
+nerve and sinew. But, such as it was, it brought him his board and L1 a
+week, enough to help him during the summer months and let him save a few
+pounds towards his winter keep. But those class fees! Where were they to
+come from? He could not save them out of his scanty wage. Dr. Oldacre
+would not advance them. He saw no way of earning them. His brains were
+fairly good, but brains of that quality were a drug in the market. He
+only excelled in his strength; and where was he to find a customer for
+that? But the ways of Fate are strange, and his customer was at hand.
+
+"Look y'ere!" said a voice at the door.
+
+Montgomery looked up, for the voice was a loud and rasping one. A young
+man stood at the entrance--a stocky, bull-necked young miner, in tweed
+Sunday clothes and an aggressive necktie. He was a sinister-looking
+figure, with dark, insolent eyes, and the jaw and throat of a bulldog.
+
+"Look y'ere!" said he again. "Why hast thou not sent t' medicine oop as
+thy master ordered?"
+
+Montgomery had become accustomed to the brutal frankness of the Northern
+worker. At first it had enraged him, but after a time he had grown
+callous to it, and accepted it as it was meant. But this was something
+different. It was insolence--brutal, overbearing insolence, with
+physical menace behind it.
+
+"What name?" he asked coldly.
+
+"Barton. Happen I may give thee cause to mind that name, yoong man. Mak'
+oop t' wife's medicine this very moment, look ye, or it will be the
+worse for thee."
+
+Montgomery smiled. A pleasant sense of relief thrilled softly through
+him. What blessed safety-valve was this through which his jangled nerves
+might find some outlet. The provocation was so gross, the insult so
+unprovoked, that he could have none of those qualms which take the edge
+off a man's mettle. He finished sealing the bottle upon which he was
+occupied, and he addressed it and placed it carefully in the rack.
+
+"Look here!" said he turning round to the miner, "your medicine will be
+made up in its turn and sent down to you. I don't allow folk in the
+surgery. Wait outside in the waiting-room, if you wish to wait at all."
+
+"Yoong man," said the miner, "thou's got to mak' t' wife's medicine
+here, and now, and quick, while I wait and watch thee, or else happen
+thou might need some medicine thysel' before all is over."
+
+"I shouldn't advise you to fasten a quarrel upon me." Montgomery was
+speaking in the hard, staccato voice of a man who is holding himself in
+with difficulty. "You'll save trouble if you'll go quietly. If you don't
+you'll be hurt. Ah, you would? Take it, then!"
+
+The blows were almost simultaneous--a savage swing which whistled past
+Montgomery's ear, and a straight drive which took the workman on the
+chin. Luck was with the assistant. That single whizzing uppercut, and
+the way in which it was delivered, warned him that he had a formidable
+man to deal with. But if he had underrated his antagonist, his
+antagonist had also underrated him, and had laid himself open to a fatal
+blow.
+
+The miner's head had come with a crash against the corner of the surgery
+shelves, and he had dropped heavily onto the ground. There he lay with
+his bandy legs drawn up and his hands thrown abroad, the blood trickling
+over the surgery tiles.
+
+"Had enough?" asked the assistant, breathing fiercely through his nose.
+
+But no answer came. The man was insensible. And then the danger of his
+position came upon Montgomery, and he turned as white as his antagonist.
+A Sunday, the immaculate Dr. Oldacre with his pious connection, a savage
+brawl with a patient; he would irretrievably lose his situation if the
+facts came out. It was not much of a situation, but he could not get
+another without a reference, and Oldacre might refuse him one. Without
+money for his classes, and without a situation--what was to become of
+him? It was absolute ruin.
+
+But perhaps he could escape exposure after all. He seized his insensible
+adversary, dragged him out into the centre of the room, loosened his
+collar, and squeezed the surgery sponge over his face. He sat up at last
+with a gasp and a scowl.
+
+"Domn thee, thou's spoilt my necktie," said he, mopping up the water
+from his breast.
+
+"I'm sorry I hit you so hard," said Montgomery, apologetically.
+
+"Thou hit me hard! I could stan' such fly-flappin' all day. 'Twas this
+here press that cracked my pate for me, and thou art a looky man to be
+able to boast as thou hast outed me. And now I'd be obliged to thee if
+thou wilt give me t' wife's medicine."
+
+Montgomery gladly made it up and handed it to the miner.
+
+"You are weak still," said he. "Won't you stay awhile and rest?"
+
+"T' wife wants her medicine," said the man, and lurched out at the door.
+
+The assistant, looking after him, saw him rolling with an uncertain step
+down the street, until a friend met him, and they walked on arm-in-arm.
+The man seemed in his rough Northern fashion to bear no grudge, and so
+Montgomery's fears left him. There was no reason why the doctor should
+know anything about it. He wiped the blood from the floor, put the
+surgery in order, and went on with his interrupted task, hoping that he
+had come scathless out of a very dangerous business.
+
+Yet all day he was aware of a sense of vague uneasiness, which sharpened
+into dismay when, late in the afternoon, he was informed that three
+gentlemen had called and were waiting for him in the surgery. A
+coroner's inquest, a descent of detectives, an invasion of angry
+relatives--all sorts of possibilities rose to scare him. With tense
+nerves and a rigid face he went to meet his visitors.
+
+They were a very singular trio. Each was known to him by sight; but what
+on earth the three could be doing together, and, above all, what they
+could expect from _him_, was a most inexplicable problem.
+
+The first was Sorley Wilson, the son of the owner of the Nonpareil
+Coalpit. He was a young blood of twenty, heir to a fortune, a keen
+sportsman, and down for the Easter Vacation from Magdalene College. He
+sat now upon the edge of the surgery table, looking in thoughtful
+silence at Montgomery, and twisting the ends of his small, black, waxed
+moustache.
+
+The second was Purvis, the publican, owner of the chief beershop, and
+well known as the local bookmaker. He was a coarse, clean-shaven man,
+whose fiery face made a singular contrast with his ivory-white bald
+head. He had shrewd, light-blue eyes with foxy lashes, and he also
+leaned forward in silence from his chair, a fat, red hand upon either
+knee, and stared critically at the young assistant.
+
+So did the third visitor, Fawcett, the horsebreaker, who leaned back,
+his long, thin legs, with their box-cloth riding-gaiters, thrust out in
+front of him, tapping his protruding teeth with his riding-whip, with
+anxious thought in every line of his rugged, bony face. Publican,
+exquisite, and horsebreaker were all three equally silent, equally
+earnest, and equally critical. Montgomery, seated in the midst of them,
+looked from one to the other.
+
+"Well, gentlemen?" he observed, but no answer came.
+
+The position was embarrassing.
+
+"No," said the horsebreaker, at last. "No. It's off. It's nowt."
+
+"Stand oop, lad; let's see thee standin'." It was the publican who
+spoke.
+
+Montgomery obeyed. He would learn all about it, no doubt, if he were
+patient. He stood up and turned slowly round, as if in front of his
+tailor.
+
+"It's off! It's off!" cried the horsebreaker. "Why, mon, the Master
+would break him over his knee."
+
+"Oh, that behanged for a yarn!" said the young Cantab. "You can drop out
+if you like, Fawcett, but I'll see this thing through, if I have to do
+it alone. I don't hedge a penny. I like the cut of him a great deal
+better than I liked Ted Barton."
+
+"Look at Barton's shoulders, Mr. Wilson."
+
+"Lumpiness isn't always strength. Give me nerve and fire and breed.
+That's what wins."
+
+"Ay, sir, you have it theer--you have it theer!" said the fat, red-faced
+publican, in a thick, suety voice. "It's the same wi' poops. Get 'em
+clean-bred an' fine, and they'll yark the thick 'uns--yark 'em out o'
+their skins."
+
+"He's ten good pund on the light side," growled the horsebreaker.
+
+"He's a welter weight, anyhow."
+
+"A hundred and thirty."
+
+"A hundred and fifty, if he's an ounce."
+
+"Well, the master doesn't scale much more than that."
+
+"A hundred and seventy-five."
+
+"That was when he was hog-fat and living high. Work the grease out of
+him, and I lay there's no great difference between them. Have you been
+weighed lately, Mr. Montgomery?"
+
+It was the first direct question which had been asked him. He had stood
+in the midst of them, like a horse at a fair, and he was just beginning
+to wonder whether he was more angry or amused.
+
+"I am just eleven stone," said he.
+
+"I said that he was a welter weight."
+
+"But suppose you was trained?" said the publican. "Wot then?"
+
+"I am always in training."
+
+"In a manner of speakin', do doubt, he _is_ always in trainin',"
+remarked the horsebreaker. "But trainin' for everyday work ain't the
+same as trainin' with a trainer; and I dare bet, with all respec' to
+your opinion, Mr. Wilson, that there's half a stone of tallow on him at
+this minute."
+
+The young Cantab put his fingers on the assistant's upper arm. Then with
+his other hand on his wrist he bent the forearm sharply, and felt the
+biceps, as round and hard as a cricket-ball, spring up under his
+fingers.
+
+"Feel that!" said he.
+
+The publican and horsebreaker felt it with an air of reverence.
+
+"Good lad! He'll do yet!" cried Purvis.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Montgomery, "I think that you will acknowledge that I
+have been very patient with you. I have listened to all that you have to
+say about my personal appearance, and now I must really beg that you
+will have the goodness to tell me what is the matter."
+
+They all sat down in their serious, businesslike way.
+
+"That's easy done, Mr. Montgomery," said the fat-voiced publican. "But
+before sayin' anything, we had to wait and see whether, in a way of
+speakin', there was any need for us to say anything at all. Mr. Wilson
+thinks there is. Mr. Fawcett, who has the same right to his opinion,
+bein' also a backer and one o' the committee, thinks the other way."
+
+"I thought him too light built, and I think so now," said the
+horsebreaker, still tapping his prominent teeth with the metal head of
+his riding-whip. "But happen he may pull through; and he's a fine-made,
+buirdly young chap, so if you mean to back him, Mr. Wilson----"
+
+"Which I do."
+
+"And you, Purvis?"
+
+"I ain't one to go back, Fawcett."
+
+"Well, I'll stan' to my share of the purse."
+
+"And well I knew you would," said Purvis, "for it would be somethin' new
+to find Isaac Fawcett as a spoil-sport. Well, then, we make up the
+hundred for the stake among us, and the fight stands--always supposin'
+the young man is willin'."
+
+"Excuse all this rot, Mr. Montgomery," said the University man, in a
+genial voice. "We've begun at the wrong end, I know, but we'll soon
+straighten it out, and I hope that you will see your way to falling in
+with our views. In the first place, you remember the man whom you
+knocked out this morning? He is Barton--the famous Ted Barton."
+
+"I'm sure, sir, you may well be proud to have outed him in one round,"
+said the publican. "Why, it took Morris, the ten-stone-six champion, a
+deal more trouble than that before he put Barton to sleep. You've done a
+fine performance, sir, and happen you'll do a finer, if you give
+yourself the chance."
+
+"I never heard of Ted Barton, beyond seeing the name on a medicine
+label," said the assistant.
+
+"Well, you may take it from me that he's a slaughterer," said the
+horsebreaker. "You've taught him a lesson that he needed, for it was
+always a word and a blow with him, and the word alone was worth five
+shillin' in a public court. He won't be so ready now to shake his nief
+in the face of everyone he meets. However, that's neither here nor
+there."
+
+Montgomery looked at them in bewilderment.
+
+"For goodness sake, gentlemen, tell me what it is you want me to do!" he
+cried.
+
+"We want you to fight Silas Craggs, better known as the Master of
+Croxley."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Because Ted Barton was to have fought him next Saturday. He was the
+champion of the Wilson coal-pits, and the other was the Master of the
+iron-folk down at the Croxley smelters. We'd matched our man for a purse
+of a hundred against the Master. But you've queered our man, and he
+can't face such a battle with a two-inch cut at the back of his head.
+There's only one thing to be done, sir, and that is for you to take his
+place. If you can lick Ted Barton you may lick the Master of Croxley;
+but if you don't we're done, for there's no one else who is in the same
+street with him in this district. It's twenty rounds, two-ounce gloves,
+Queensberry rules, and a decision on points if you fight to the finish."
+
+For a moment the absurdity of the thing drove every other thought out
+of Montgomery's head. But then there came a sudden revulsion. A hundred
+pounds!--all he wanted to complete his education was lying there ready
+to his hand, if only that hand were strong enough to pick it up. He had
+thought bitterly that morning that there was no market for his strength,
+but here was one where his muscle might earn more in an hour than his
+brains in a year. But a chill of doubt came over him.
+
+"How can I fight for the coal-pits?" said he. "I am not connected with
+them."
+
+"Eh, lad, but thou art!" cried old Purvis. "We've got it down in
+writin', and it's clear enough. 'Any one connected with the coal-pits.'
+Doctor Oldacre is the coal-pit club doctor; thou art his assistant. What
+more can they want?"
+
+"Yes, that's right enough," said the Cantab. "It would be a very
+sporting thing of you, Mr. Montgomery, if you would come to our help
+when we are in such a hole. Of course, you might not like to take the
+hundred pounds; but I have no doubt that, in the case of your winning,
+we could arrange that it should take the form of a watch or piece of
+plate, or any other shape which might suggest itself to you. You see,
+you are responsible for our having lost our champion, so we really feel
+that we have a claim upon you."
+
+"Give me a moment, gentlemen. It is very unexpected. I am afraid the
+doctor would never consent to my going--in fact, I am sure that he would
+not."
+
+"But he need never know--not before the fight, at any rate. We are not
+bound to give the name of our man. So long as he is within the weight
+limits on the day of the fight, that is all that concerns any one."
+
+The adventure and the profit would either of them have attracted
+Montgomery. The two combined were irresistible.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I'll do it!"
+
+The three sprang from their seats. The publican had seized his right
+hand, the horse-dealer his left, and the Cantab slapped him on the back.
+
+"Good lad! good lad!" croaked the publican. "Eh, mon, but if thou yark
+him, thou'll rise in one day from being just a common doctor to the
+best-known mon 'twixt here and Bradford. Thou art a witherin' tyke, thou
+art, and no mistake; and if thou beat the Master of Croxley, thou'll
+find all the beer thou want for the rest of thy life waiting for thee at
+the Four Sacks."
+
+"It is the most sporting thing I ever heard of in my life," said young
+Wilson. "By George, sir, if you pull it off, you've got the constituency
+in your pocket, if you care to stand. You know the outhouse in my
+garden?"
+
+"Next the road?"
+
+"Exactly. I turned it into a gymnasium for Ted Barton. You'll find all
+you want there: clubs, punching ball, bars, dumb-bells, everything. Then
+you'll want a sparring partner. Ogilvy has been acting for Barton, but
+we don't think that he is class enough. Barton bears you no grudge. He's
+a good-hearted fellow, though cross-grained with strangers. He looked
+upon you as a stranger this morning, but he says he knows you now. He is
+quite ready to spar with you for practice, and he will come at any hour
+you will name."
+
+"Thank you; I will let you know the hour," said Montgomery; and so the
+committee departed jubilant upon their way.
+
+The medical assistant sat for a little time in the surgery turning it
+over in his mind. He had been trained originally at the University by
+the man who had been middle-weight champion in his day. It was true that
+his teacher was long past his prime, slow upon his feet and stiff in his
+joints, but even so he was still a tough antagonist; but Montgomery had
+found at last that he could more than hold his own with him. He had won
+the University medal, and his teacher, who had trained so many students,
+was emphatic in his opinion that he had never had one who was in the
+same class with him. He had been exhorted to go in for the Amateur
+Championships, but he had no particular ambition in that direction. Once
+he had put on the gloves with Hammer Tunstall in a booth at a fair, and
+had fought three rattling rounds, in which he had the worst of it, but
+had made the prize-fighter stretch himself to the uttermost. There was
+his whole record, and was it enough to encourage him to stand up to the
+Master of Croxley? He had never heard of the Master before, but then he
+had lost touch of the ring during the last few years of hard work. After
+all, what did it matter? If he won, there was the money, which meant so
+much to him. If he lost, it would only mean a thrashing. He could take
+punishment without flinching, of that he was certain. If there were only
+one chance in a hundred of pulling it off, then it was worth his while
+to attempt it.
+
+Dr. Oldacre, new come from church, with an ostentatious Prayer-book in
+his kid-gloved hand, broke in upon his meditation.
+
+"You don't go to service, I observe, Mr. Montgomery," said he, coldly.
+
+"No, sir; I have had some business to detain me."
+
+"It is very near to my heart that my household should set a good
+example. There are so few educated people in this district that a great
+responsibility devolves upon us. If we do not live up to the highest,
+how can we expect these poor workers to do so? It is a dreadful thing to
+reflect that the parish takes a great deal more interest in an
+approaching glove-fight than in their religious duties."
+
+"A glove-fight, sir?" said Montgomery, guiltily.
+
+"I believe that to be the correct term. One of my patients tells me that
+it is the talk of the district. A local ruffian, a patient of ours, by
+the way, is matched against a pugilist over at Croxley. I cannot
+understand why the law does not step in and stop so degrading an
+exhibition. It is really a prize-fight."
+
+"A glove fight, you said."
+
+"I am informed that a two-ounce glove is an evasion by which they dodge
+the law, and make it difficult for the police to interfere. They contend
+for a sum of money. It seems dreadful and almost incredible--does it
+not?--to think that such scenes can be enacted within a few miles of our
+peaceful home. But you will realize, Mr. Montgomery, that while there
+are such influences for us to counteract, it is very necessary that we
+should live up to our highest."
+
+The doctor's sermon would have had more effect if the assistant had not
+once or twice had occasion to test his highest and come upon it at
+unexpectedly humble elevations. It is always so particularly easy to
+"compound for sins we're most inclined to by damning those we have no
+mind to." In any case, Montgomery felt that of all the men concerned in
+such a fight--promoters, backers, spectators--it is the actual fighter
+who holds the strongest and most honourable position. His conscience
+gave him no concern upon the subject. Endurance and courage are virtues,
+not vices, and brutality is, at least, better than effeminacy.
+
+There was a little tobacco-shop at the corner of the street, where
+Montgomery got his bird's-eye and also his local information, for the
+shopman was a garrulous soul, who knew everything about the affairs of
+the district. The assistant strolled down there after tea and asked, in
+a casual way, whether the tobacconist had ever heard of the Master of
+Croxley.
+
+"Heard of him! Heard of him!" the little man could hardly articulate in
+his astonishment. "Why, sir, he's the first mon o' the district, an' his
+name's as well known in the West Riding as the winner o' t' Derby. But
+Lor', sir"--here he stopped and rummaged among a heap of papers. "They
+are makin' a fuss about him on account o' his fight wi' Ted Barton, and
+so the _Croxley Herald_ has his life an' record, an' here it is, an'
+thou canst read it for thysel'."
+
+The sheet of the paper which he held up was a lake of print around an
+islet of illustration. The latter was a coarse wood-cut of a pugilist's
+head and neck set in a cross-barred jersey. It was a sinister but
+powerful face, the face of a debauched hero, clean-shaven, strongly
+eyebrowed, keen-eyed, with a huge aggressive jaw and an animal dewlap
+beneath it. The long, obstinate cheeks ran flush up to the narrow,
+sinister eyes. The mighty neck came down square from the ears and curved
+outwards into shoulders, which had lost nothing at the hands of the
+local artist. Above was written "Silas Craggs," and beneath, "The Master
+of Croxley."
+
+"Thou'll find all about him there, sir," said the tobacconist. "He's a
+witherin' tyke, he is, and we're proud to have him in the county. If he
+hadn't broke his leg he'd have been champion of England."
+
+"Broke his leg, has he?"
+
+"Yes, and it set badly. They ca' him owd K behind his bock, for thot is
+how his two legs look. But his arms--well, if they was both stropped to
+a bench, as the sayin' is, I wonder where the champion of England would
+be then."
+
+"I'll take this with me," said Montgomery; and putting the paper into
+his pocket he returned home.
+
+It was not a cheering record which he read there. The whole history of
+the Croxley Master was given in full, his many victories, his few
+defeats.
+
+"Born in 1857," said the provincial biographer, "Silas Craggs, better
+known in sporting circles as The Master of Croxley, is now in his
+fortieth year."
+
+"Hang it, I'm only twenty-three," said Montgomery to himself, and read
+on more cheerfully.
+
+"Having in his youth shown a surprising aptitude for the game, he fought
+his way up among his comrades, until he became the recognized champion
+of the district and won the proud title which he still holds. Ambitious
+of a more than local fame, he secured a patron, and fought his first
+fight against Jack Barton, of Birmingham, in May, 1880, at the old
+Loiterers' Club. Craggs, who fought at ten-stone-two at the time, had
+the better of fifteen rattling rounds, and gained an award on points
+against the Midlander. Having disposed of James Dunn, of Rotherhithe,
+Cameron, of Glasgow, and a youth named Fernie, he was thought so highly
+of by the fancy that he was matched against Ernest Willox, at that time
+middle-weight champion of the North of England, and defeated him in a
+hard-fought battle, knocking him out in the tenth round after a
+punishing contest. At this period it looked as if the very highest
+honours of the ring were within the reach of the young Yorkshireman, but
+he was laid upon the shelf by a most unfortunate accident. The kick of a
+horse broke his thigh, and for a year he was compelled to rest himself.
+When he returned to his work the fracture had set badly, and his
+activity was much impaired. It was owing to this that he was defeated in
+seven rounds by Willox, the man whom he had previously beaten, and
+afterwards by James Shaw, of London, though the latter acknowledged that
+he had found the toughest customer of his career. Undismayed by his
+reverses, the Master adapted the style of his fighting to his physical
+disabilities and resumed his career of victory--defeating Norton (the
+black), Bobby Wilson, and Levy Cohen, the latter a heavy-weight.
+Conceding two stone, he fought a draw with the famous Billy McQuire, and
+afterwards, for a purse of fifty pounds, he defeated Sam Hare at the
+Pelican Club, London. In 1891 a decision was given against him upon a
+foul when fighting a winning fight against Jim Taylor, the Australian
+middle-weight, and so mortified was he by the decision, that he withdrew
+from the ring. Since then he has hardly fought at all save to
+accommodate any local aspirant who may wish to learn the difference
+between a bar-room scramble and a scientific contest. The latest of
+these ambitious souls comes from the Wilson coal-pits, which have
+undertaken to put up a stake of L100 and back their local champion.
+There are various rumours afloat as to who their representative is to
+be, the name of Ted Barton being freely mentioned; but the betting,
+which is seven to one on the Master against any untried man, is a fair
+reflection of the feeling of the community."
+
+Montgomery read it over twice, and it left him with a very serious face.
+No light matter this which he had undertaken; no battle with a
+rough-and-tumble fighter who presumed upon a local reputation. The man's
+record showed that he was first-class--or nearly so. There were a few
+points in his favour, and he must make the most of them. There was
+age--twenty-three against forty. There was an old ring proverb that
+"Youth will be served," but the annals of the ring offer a great number
+of exceptions. A hard veteran, full of cool valour and ring-craft, could
+give ten or fifteen years and a beating to most striplings. He could not
+rely too much upon his advantage in age. But then there was the
+lameness; that must surely count for a great deal. And, lastly, there
+was the chance that the Master might underrate his opponent, that he
+might be remiss in his training, and refuse to abandon his usual way of
+life, if he thought that he had an easy task before him. In a man of
+his age and habits this seemed very possible. Montgomery prayed that it
+might be so. Meanwhile, if his opponent were the best man who ever
+jumped the ropes into a ring, his own duty was clear. He must prepare
+himself carefully, throw away no chance, and do the very best that he
+could. But he knew enough to appreciate the difference which exists in
+boxing, as in every sport, between the amateur and the professional. The
+coolness, the power of hitting, above all the capability of taking
+punishment, count for so much. Those specially developed,
+gutta-percha-like abdominal muscles of the hardened pugilist will take
+without flinching a blow which would leave another man writhing on the
+ground. Such things are not to be acquired in a week, but all that could
+be done in a week should be done.
+
+The medical assistant had a good basis to start from. He was 5 feet 11
+inches--tall enough for anything on two legs, as the old ring men used
+to say--lithe and spare, with the activity of a panther, and a strength
+which had hardly yet ever found its limitations. His muscular
+development was finely hard, but his power came rather from that higher
+nerve-energy which counts for nothing upon a measuring tape. He had the
+well-curved nose, and the widely-opened eye which never yet were seen
+upon the face of a craven, and behind everything he had the driving
+force, which came from the knowledge that his whole career was at stake
+upon the contest. The three backers rubbed their hands when they saw him
+at work punching the ball in the gymnasium next morning; and Fawcett,
+the horsebreaker, who had written to Leeds to hedge his bets, sent a
+wire to cancel the letter, and to lay another fifty at the market price
+of seven to one.
+
+Montgomery's chief difficulty was to find time for his training without
+any interference from the doctor. His work took him a large part of the
+day, but as the visiting was done on foot, and considerable distances
+had to be traversed, it was a training in itself. For the rest, he
+punched the swinging ball and worked with the dumb-bells for an hour
+every morning and evening, and boxed twice a day with Ted Barton in the
+gymnasium, gaining as much profit as could be got from a rushing,
+two-handed slogger. Barton was full of admiration for his cleverness and
+quickness, but doubtful about his strength. Hard hitting was the feature
+of his own style, and he exacted it from others.
+
+"Lord, sir, that's a turble poor poonch for an eleven-stone man!" he
+would cry. "Thou wilt have to hit harder than that afore t' Master will
+know that thou art theer. Ah, thot's better, mon, thot's fine!" he would
+add, as his opponent lifted him across the room on the end of a right
+counter. "Thot's how I likes to feel 'em. Happen thou'lt pull through
+yet." He chuckled with joy when Montgomery knocked him into a corner.
+"Eh, mon, thou art comin' along grand. Thou hast fair yarked me off my
+legs. Do it again, lad, do it again!"
+
+The only part of Montgomery's training which came within the doctor's
+observation was his diet, and that puzzled him considerably.
+
+"You will excuse my remarking, Mr. Montgomery, that you are becoming
+rather particular in your tastes. Such fads are not to be encouraged in
+one's youth. Why do you eat toast with every meal?"
+
+"I find that it suits me better than bread, sir."
+
+"It entails unnecessary work upon the cook. I observe, also, that you
+have turned against potatoes."
+
+"Yes, sir; I think that I am better without them."
+
+"And you no longer drink your beer?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"These causeless whims and fancies are very much to be deprecated, Mr.
+Montgomery. Consider how many there are to whom these very potatoes and
+this very beer would be most acceptable."
+
+"No doubt, sir. But at present I prefer to do without them."
+
+They were sitting alone at lunch, and the assistant thought that it
+would be a good opportunity of asking leave for the day of the fight.
+
+"I should be glad if you could let me have leave for Saturday, Doctor
+Oldacre."
+
+"It is very inconvenient upon so busy a day."
+
+"I should do a double day's work on Friday so as to leave everything in
+order. I should hope to be back in the evening."
+
+"I am afraid I cannot spare you, Mr. Montgomery."
+
+This was a facer. If he could not get leave he would go without it.
+
+"You will remember, Doctor Oldacre, that when I came to you it was
+understood that I should have a clear day every month. I have never
+claimed one. But now there are reasons why I wish to have a holiday upon
+Saturday."
+
+Doctor Oldacre gave in with a very bad grace.
+
+"Of course, if you insist upon your formal rights, there is no more to
+be said, Mr. Montgomery, though I feel that it shows a certain
+indifference to my comfort and the welfare of the practice. Do you still
+insist?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very good. Have your way."
+
+The doctor was boiling over with anger, but Montgomery was a valuable
+assistant--steady, capable, and hard-working--and he could not afford to
+lose him. Even if he had been prompted to advance those class fees, for
+which his assistant had appealed, it would have been against his
+interests to do so, for he did not wish him to qualify, and he desired
+him to remain in his subordinate position, in which he worked so hard
+for so small a wage. There was something in the cool insistence of the
+young man, a quiet resolution in his voice as he claimed his Saturday,
+which aroused his curiosity.
+
+"I have no desire to interfere unduly with your affairs, Mr. Montgomery,
+but were you thinking of having a day in Leeds upon Saturday?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"In the country?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You are very wise. You will find a quiet day among the wild flowers a
+very valuable restorative. Had you thought of any particular direction?"
+
+"I am going over Croxley way."
+
+"Well, there is no prettier country when once you are past the
+iron-works. What could be more delightful than to lie upon the Fells,
+basking in the sunshine, with perhaps some instructive and elevating
+book as your companion? I should recommend a visit to the ruins of St.
+Bridget's Church, a very interesting relic of the early Norman era. By
+the way, there is one objection which I see to your going to Croxley on
+Saturday. It is upon that date, as I am informed, that that ruffianly
+glove-fight takes place. You may find yourself molested by the
+blackguards whom it will attract."
+
+"I will take my chance of that, sir," said the assistant.
+
+On the Friday night, which was the last before the fight, Montgomery's
+three backers assembled in the gymnasium and inspected their man as he
+went through some light exercises to keep his muscles supple. He was
+certainly in splendid condition, his skin shining with health, and his
+eyes with energy and confidence. The three walked round him and exulted.
+
+"He's simply ripping!" said the undergraduate. "By gad, you've come out
+of it splendidly. You're as hard as a pebble, and fit to fight for your
+life."
+
+"Happen he's a trifle on the fine side," said the publican. "Runs a bit
+light at the loins, to my way of thinkin'."
+
+"What weight to-day?"
+
+"Ten stone eleven," the assistant answered.
+
+"That's only three pund off in a week's trainin'," said the
+horsebreaker. "He said right when he said that he was in condition.
+Well, it's fine stuff all there is of it, but I'm none so sure as there
+is enough." He kept poking his finger into Montgomery, as if he were one
+of his horses. "I hear that the Master will scale a hundred and sixty
+odd at the ring-side."
+
+"But there's some of that which he'd like well to pull off and leave
+behind wi' his shirt," said Purvis. "I hear they've had a rare job to
+get him to drop his beer, and if it had not been for that great
+red-headed wench of his they'd never ha' done it. She fair scratted the
+face off a potman that had brought him a gallon from t' Chequers. They
+say the hussy is his sparrin' partner, as well as his sweetheart, and
+that his poor wife is just breakin' her heart over it. Hullo, young 'un,
+what do you want?"
+
+The door of the gymnasium had opened, and a lad about sixteen, grimy and
+black with soot and iron, stepped into the yellow glare of the oil-lamp.
+Ted Barton seized him by the collar.
+
+"See here, thou yoong whelp, this is private, and we want noan o' thy
+spyin'!"
+
+"But I maun speak to Mr. Wilson."
+
+The young Cantab stepped forward.
+
+"Well, my lad, what is it?"
+
+"It's aboot t' fight, Mr. Wilson, sir. I wanted to tell your mon
+somethin' aboot t' Maister."
+
+"We've no time to listen to gossip, my boy. We know all about the
+Master."
+
+"But thou doant, sir. Nobody knows but me and mother, and we thought as
+we'd like thy mon to know, sir, for we want him to fair bray him."
+
+"Oh, you want the Master fair brayed, do you? So do we. Well, what have
+you to say?"
+
+"Is this your mon, sir?"
+
+"Well, suppose it is?"
+
+"Then it's him I want to tell aboot it. T' Maister is blind o' the left
+eye."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"It's true, sir. Not stone blind, but rarely fogged. He keeps it secret,
+but mother knows, and so do I. If thou slip him on the left side he
+can't cop thee. Thou'll find it right as I tell thee. And mark him when
+he sinks his right. 'Tis his best blow, his right upper-cut. T'
+Maister's finisher, they ca' it at t' works. It's a turble blow, when it
+do come home."
+
+"Thank you, my boy. This is information worth having about his sight,"
+said Wilson. "How came you to know so much? Who are you?"
+
+"I'm his son, sir."
+
+Wilson whistled.
+
+"And who sent you to us?"
+
+"My mother. I maun get back to her again."
+
+"Take this half-crown."
+
+"No, sir, I don't seek money in comin' here. I do it----"
+
+"For love?" suggested the publican.
+
+"For hate!" said the boy, and darted off into the darkness.
+
+"Seems to me t' red-headed wench may do him more harm than good, after
+all," remarked the publican. "And now, Mr. Montgomery, sir, you've done
+enough for this evenin', an' a nine hours' sleep is the best trainin'
+before a battle. Happen this time to-morrow night you'll be safe back
+again with your L100 in your pocket."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Work was struck at one o'clock at the coal-pits and the iron-works, and
+the fight was arranged for three. From the Croxley Furnaces, from
+Wilson's Coal-pits, from the Heartsease Mine, from the Dodd Mills, from
+the Leverworth Smelters the workmen came trooping, each with his
+fox-terrier or his lurcher at his heels. Warped with labour and twisted
+by toil, bent double by week-long work in the cramped coal galleries, or
+half-blinded with years spent in front of white-hot fluid metal, these
+men still gilded their harsh and hopeless lives by their devotion to
+sport. It was their one relief, the only thing which could distract
+their mind from sordid surroundings, and give them an interest beyond
+the blackened circle which inclosed them. Literature, art, science, all
+these things were beyond the horizon; but the race, the football match,
+the cricket, the fight, these were things which they could understand,
+which they could speculate upon in advance and comment upon afterwards.
+Sometimes brutal, sometimes grotesque, the love of sport is still one
+of the great agencies which make for the happiness of our people. It
+lies very deeply in the springs of our nature, and when it has been
+educated out, a higher, more refined nature may be left, but it will not
+be of that robust British type which has left its mark so deeply on the
+world. Every one of these ruddled workers, slouching with his dog at his
+heels to see something of the fight, was a true unit of his race.
+
+It was a squally May day, with bright sun-bursts and driving showers.
+Montgomery worked all morning in the surgery getting his medicine made
+up.
+
+"The weather seems so very unsettled, Mr. Montgomery," remarked the
+doctor, "that I am inclined to think that you had better postpone your
+little country excursion until a later date."
+
+"I am afraid that I must go to-day, sir."
+
+"I have just had an intimation that Mrs. Potter, at the other side of
+Angleton, wishes to see me. It is probable that I shall be there all
+day. It will be extremely inconvenient to leave the house empty so
+long."
+
+"I am very sorry, sir, but I must go," said the assistant, doggedly.
+
+The doctor saw that it would be useless to argue, and departed in the
+worst of bad tempers upon his mission. Montgomery felt easier now that
+he was gone. He went up to his room, and packed his running-shoes, his
+fighting-drawers, and his cricket-sash into a handbag. When he came down
+Mr. Wilson was waiting for him in the surgery.
+
+"I hear the doctor has gone."
+
+"Yes; he is likely to be away all day."
+
+"I don't see that it matters much. It's bound to come to his ears by
+to-night."
+
+"Yes; it's serious with me, Mr. Wilson. If I win, it's all right. I
+don't mind telling you that the hundred pounds will make all the
+difference to me. But if I lose, I shall lose my situation, for, as you
+say, I can't keep it secret."
+
+"Never mind. We'll see you through among us. I only wonder the doctor
+has not heard, for it's all over the country that you are to fight the
+Croxley Champion. We've had Armitage up about it already. He's the
+Master's backer, you know. He wasn't sure that you were eligible. The
+Master said he wanted you whether you were eligible or not. Armitage has
+money on, and would have made trouble if he could. But I showed him that
+you came within the conditions of the challenge, and he agreed that it
+was all right. They think they have a soft thing on."
+
+"Well, I can only do my best," said Montgomery.
+
+They lunched together; a silent and rather nervous repast, for
+Montgomery's mind was full of what was before him, and Wilson had
+himself more money at stake than he cared to lose.
+
+Wilson's carriage and pair were at the door, the horses with
+blue-and-white rosettes at their ears, which were the colours of the
+Wilson Coal-pits, well known on many a football field. At the avenue
+gate a crowd of some hundred pit-men and their wives gave a cheer as the
+carriage passed. To the assistant it all seemed dream-like and
+extraordinary--the strangest experience of his life, but with a thrill
+of human action and interest in it which made it passionately absorbing.
+He lay back in the open carriage and saw the fluttering handkerchiefs
+from the doors and windows of the miners' cottages. Wilson had pinned a
+blue-and-white rosette upon his coat, and every one knew him as their
+champion. "Good luck, sir! good luck to thee!" they shouted from the
+roadside. He felt that it was like some unromantic knight riding down to
+sordid lists, but there was something of chivalry in it all the same. He
+fought for others as well as for himself. He might fail from want of
+skill or strength, but deep in his sombre soul he vowed that it should
+never be for want of heart.
+
+Mr. Fawcett was just mounting into his high-wheeled, spidery dogcart,
+with his little bit of blood between the shafts. He waved his whip and
+fell in behind the carriage. They overtook Purvis, the tomato-faced
+publican, upon the road, with his wife in her Sunday bonnet. They also
+dropped into the procession, and then, as they traversed the seven miles
+of the high-road to Croxley, their two-horsed, rosetted carriage became
+gradually the nucleus of a comet with a loosely radiating tail. From
+every side-road came the miners' carts, the humble, ramshackle traps,
+black and bulging, with their loads of noisy, foul-tongued, open-hearted
+partisans. They trailed for a long quarter of a mile behind
+them--cracking, whipping, shouting, galloping, swearing. Horsemen and
+runners were mixed with the vehicles. And then suddenly a squad of the
+Sheffield Yeomanry, who were having their annual training in those
+parts, clattered and jingled out of a field, and rode as an escort to
+the carriage. Through the dust-clouds round him Montgomery saw the
+gleaming brass helmets, the bright coats, and the tossing heads of the
+chargers, the delighted brown faces of the troopers. It was more
+dream-like than ever.
+
+And then, as they approached the monstrous, uncouth line of
+bottle-shaped buildings which marked the smelting-works of Croxley,
+their long, writhing snake of dust was headed off by another but longer
+one which wound across their path. The main-road into which their own
+opened was filled by the rushing current of traps. The Wilson contingent
+halted until the others should get past. The iron-men cheered and
+groaned, according to their humour, as they whirled past their
+antagonist. Rough chaff flew back and forwards like iron nuts and
+splinters of coal. "Brought him up, then!" "Got t' hearse for to fetch
+him back?" "Where's t' owd K-legs?" "Mon, mon, have thy photograph
+took--'twill mind thee of what thou used to look!" "He fight?--he's
+now't but a half-baked doctor!" "Happen he'll doctor thy Croxley
+Champion afore he's through wi't."
+
+So they flashed at each other as the one side waited and the other
+passed. Then there came a rolling murmur swelling into a shout, and a
+great break with four horses came clattering along, all streaming with
+salmon-pink ribbons. The driver wore a white hat with pink rosette, and
+beside him, on the high seat, were a man and a woman--she with her arm
+round his waist. Montgomery had one glimpse of them as they flashed
+past: he with a furry cap drawn low over his brow, a great frieze coat,
+and a pink comforter round his throat; she brazen, red-headed,
+bright-coloured, laughing excitedly. The Master, for it was he, turned
+as he passed, gazed hard at Montgomery, and gave him a menacing,
+gap-toothed grin. It was a hard, wicked face, blue-jowled and craggy,
+with long, obstinate cheeks and inexorable eyes. The break behind was
+full of patrons of the sport--flushed iron-foremen, heads of
+departments, managers. One was drinking from a metal flask, and raised
+it to Montgomery as he passed; and then the crowd thinned, and the
+Wilson _cortege_ with their dragoons swept in at the rear of the others.
+
+The road led away from Croxley, between curving green hills, gashed and
+polluted by the searchers for coal and iron. The whole country had been
+gutted, and vast piles of refuse and mountains of slag suggested the
+mighty chambers which the labor of man had burrowed beneath. On the left
+the road curved up to where a huge building, roofless and dismantled,
+stood crumbling and forlorn, with the light shining through the
+windowless squares.
+
+"That's the old Arrowsmith's factory. That's where the fight is to be,"
+said Wilson. "How are you feeling now?"
+
+"Thank you. I was never better in my life," Montgomery answered.
+
+"By Gad, I like your nerve!" said Wilson, who was himself flushed and
+uneasy. "You'll give us a fight for our money, come what may. That
+place on the right is the office, and that has been set aside as the
+dressing and weighing-room."
+
+The carriage drove up to it amidst the shouts of the folk upon the
+hillside. Lines of empty carriages and traps curved down upon the
+winding road, and a black crowd surged round the door of the ruined
+factory. The seats, as a huge placard announced, were five shillings,
+three shillings, and a shilling, with half-price for dogs. The takings,
+deducting expenses, were to go to the winner, and it was already evident
+that a larger stake than a hundred pounds was in question. A babel of
+voices rose from the door. The workers wished to bring their dogs in
+free. The men scuffled. The dogs barked. The crowd was a whirling,
+eddying pool surging with a roar up to the narrow cleft which was its
+only outlet.
+
+The break, with its salmon-coloured streamers and four reeking horses,
+stood empty before the door of the office; Wilson, Purvis, Fawcett, and
+Montgomery passed in.
+
+There was a large, bare room inside with square, clean patches upon the
+grimy walls, where pictures and almanacs had once hung. Worn linoleum
+covered the floor, but there was no furniture save some benches and a
+deal table with a ewer and a basin upon it. Two of the corners were
+curtained off. In the middle of the room was a weighing-chair. A hugely
+fat man, with a salmon tie and a blue waist-coat with bird's-eye spots,
+came bustling up to them. It was Armitage, the butcher and grazier, well
+known for miles round as a warm man, and the most liberal patron of
+sport in the Riding.
+
+"Well, well," he grunted, in a thick, fussy, wheezy voice, "you have
+come, then. Got your man? Got your man?"
+
+"Here he is, fit and well. Mr. Montgomery, let me present you to Mr.
+Armitage."
+
+"Glad to meet you, sir. Happy to make your acquaintance. I make bold to
+say, sir, that we of Croxley admire your courage, Mr. Montgomery, and
+that our only hope is a fair fight and no favour and the best man win.
+That's our sentiment at Croxley."
+
+"And it is my sentiment also," said the assistant.
+
+"Well, you can't say fairer than that, Mr. Montgomery. You've taken a
+large contrac' in hand, but a large contrac' may be carried through,
+sir, as any one that knows my dealings could testify. The Master is
+ready to weigh in!"
+
+"So am I."
+
+"You must weigh in the buff."
+
+Montgomery looked askance at the tall, red-headed woman who was
+standing gazing out of the window.
+
+"That's all right," said Wilson. "Get behind the curtain and put on your
+fighting-kit."
+
+He did so, and came out the picture of an athlete, in white, loose
+drawers, canvas shoes, and the sash of a well-known cricket club round
+his waist. He was trained to a hair, his skin gleaming like silk, and
+every muscle rippling down his broad shoulders and along his beautiful
+arms as he moved them. They bunched into ivory knobs, or slid into long,
+sinuous curves, as he raised or lowered his hands.
+
+"What thinkest thou o' that?" asked Ted Barton, his second, of the woman
+in the window.
+
+She glanced contemptuously at the young athlete.
+
+"It's but a poor kindness thou dost him to put a thread-paper yoong
+gentleman like yon against a mon as is a mon. Why, my Jock would
+throttle him wi' one hond lashed behind him."
+
+"Happen he may--happen not," said Barton. "I have but twa pund in the
+world, but it's on him, every penny, and no hedgin'. But here's t'
+Maister, and rarely fine he do look."
+
+The prize-fighter had come out from his curtain, a squat, formidable
+figure, monstrous in chest and arms, limping slightly on his distorted
+leg. His skin had none of the freshness and clearness of Montgomery's,
+but was dusky and mottled, with one huge mole amid the mat of tangled
+black hair which thatched his mighty breast. His weight bore no relation
+to his strength, for those huge shoulders and great arms, with brown,
+sledge-hammer fists, would have fitted the heaviest man that ever threw
+his cap into a ring. But his loins and legs were slight in proportion.
+Montgomery, on the other hand, was as symmetrical as a Greek statue. It
+would be an encounter between a man who was specially fitted for one
+sport, and one who was equally capable of any. The two looked curiously
+at each other: a bulldog, and a high-bred, clean-limbed terrier, each
+full of spirit.
+
+"How do you do?"
+
+"How do?" The Master grinned again, and his three jagged front teeth
+gleamed for an instant. The rest had been beaten out of him in twenty
+years of battle. He spat upon the floor. "We have a rare fine day
+for't."
+
+"Capital," said Montgomery.
+
+"That's the good feelin' I like," wheezed the fat butcher. "Good lads,
+both of them!--prime lads!--hard meat an' good bone. There's no
+ill-feelin'."
+
+"If he downs me, Gawd bless him!" said the Master.
+
+"An' if we down him, Gawd help him!" interrupted the woman.
+
+"Haud thy tongue, wench!" said the Master, impatiently. "Who art thou to
+put in thy word? Happen I might draw my hand across thy face."
+
+The woman did not take the threat amiss.
+
+"Wilt have enough for thy hand to do, Jock," said she. "Get quit o' this
+gradely man afore thou turn on me."
+
+The lovers' quarrel was interrupted by the entrance of a new comer, a
+gentleman with a fur-collared overcoat and a very shiny top-hat--a
+top-hat of a degree of glossiness which is seldom seen five miles from
+Hyde Park. This hat he wore at the extreme back of his head, so that the
+lower surface of the brim made a kind of frame for his high, bald
+forehead, his keen eyes, his rugged and yet kindly face. He bustled in
+with the quiet air of possession with which the ring-master enters the
+circus.
+
+"It's Mr. Stapleton, the referee from London," said Wilson.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Stapleton? I was introduced to you at the big fight
+at the Corinthian Club, in Piccadilly."
+
+"Ah, I dare say," said the other, shaking hands. "Fact is, I'm
+introduced to so many that I can't undertake to carry their names.
+Wilson, is it? Well, Mr. Wilson, glad to see you. Couldn't get a fly at
+the station, and that's why I'm late."
+
+"I'm sure, sir," said Armitage, "we should be proud that any one so well
+known in the boxing world should come down to our little exhibition."
+
+"Not at all. Not at all. Anything in the interests of boxin'. All ready?
+Men weighed?"
+
+"Weighing now, sir."
+
+"Ah, just as well I should see it done. Seen you before, Craggs. Saw you
+fight your second battle against Willox. You had beaten him once, but he
+came back on you. What does the indicator say?--one hundred and
+sixty-three pounds--two off for the kit--one hundred and sixty-one. Now,
+my lad, you jump. My goodness, what colours are you wearing?"
+
+"The Anonymi Cricket Club."
+
+"What right have you to wear them? I belong to the club myself."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"You an amateur?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And you are fighting for a money prize?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I suppose you know what you are doing? You realize that you're a
+professional pug from this onwards, and that if ever you fight
+again----"
+
+"I'll never fight again."
+
+"Happen you won't," said the woman, and the Master turned a terrible eye
+upon her.
+
+"Well, I suppose you know your own business best. Up you jump. One
+hundred and fifty-one, minus two, one hundred and forty-nine--twelve
+pounds difference, but youth and condition on the other scale. Well, the
+sooner we get to work the better, for I wish to catch the seven o'clock
+express at Hellifield. Twenty three-minute rounds, with one-minute
+intervals, and Queensberry rules. Those are the conditions, are they
+not?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very good, then, we may go across."
+
+The two combatants had overcoats thrown over their shoulders, and the
+whole party, backers, fighters, seconds, and the referee, filed out of
+the room. A police inspector was waiting for them in the road. He had a
+notebook in his hand--that terrible weapon which awes even the London
+cabman.
+
+"I must take your names, gentlemen, in case it should be necessary to
+proceed for breach of peace."
+
+"You don't mean to stop the fight?" cried Armitage, in a passion of
+indignation. "I'm Mr. Armitage, of Croxley, and this is Mr. Wilson, and
+we'll be responsible that all is fair and as it should be.'
+
+"I'll take the names in case it should be necessary to proceed," said
+the inspector, impassively.
+
+"But you know me well."
+
+"If you was a dook or even a judge it would be all the same," said the
+inspector. "It's the law, and there's an end. I'll not take upon myself
+to stop the fight, seeing that gloves are to be used, but I'll take the
+names of all concerned. Silas Craggs, Robert Montgomery, Edward Barton,
+James Stapleton, of London. Who seconds Silas Craggs?"
+
+"I do," said the woman. "Yes, you can stare, but it's my job, and no one
+else's. Anastasia's the name--four a's."
+
+"Craggs?"
+
+"Johnson. Anastasia Johnson. If you jug him, you can jug me."
+
+"Who talked of juggin', ye fool?" growled the Master. "Coom on, Mr.
+Armitage, for I'm fair sick o' this loiterin'."
+
+The inspector fell in with the procession, and proceeded, as they walked
+up the hill, to bargain in his official capacity for a front seat, where
+he could safeguard the interests of the law, and in his private capacity
+to lay out thirty shillings at seven to one with Mr. Armitage. Through
+the door they passed, down a narrow lane walled with a dense bank of
+humanity, up a wooden ladder to a platform, over a rope which was slung
+waist-high from four corner-stakes, and then Montgomery realized that he
+was in that ring in which his immediate destiny was to be worked out. On
+the stake at one corner there hung a blue-and-white streamer. Barton led
+him across, the overcoat dangling loosely from his shoulders, and he sat
+down on a wooden stool. Barton and another man, both wearing white
+sweaters, stood beside him. The so-called ring was a square, twenty feet
+each way. At the opposite angle was the sinister figure of the Master,
+with his red-headed woman and a rough-faced friend to look after him. At
+each corner were metal basins, pitchers of water, and sponges.
+
+During the hubbub and uproar of the entrance Montgomery was too
+bewildered to take things in. But now there was a few minutes' delay,
+for the referee had lingered behind, and so he looked quietly about him.
+It was a sight to haunt him for a lifetime. Wooden seats had been built
+in, sloping upwards to the tops of the walls. Above, instead of a
+ceiling, a great flight of crows passed slowly across a square of grey
+cloud. Right up to the top-most benches the folk were banked--broadcloth
+in front, corduroys and fustian behind; faces turned everywhere upon
+him. The grey reek of the pipes filled the building, and the air was
+pungent with the acrid smell of cheap, strong tobacco. Everywhere among
+the human faces were to be seen the heads of the dogs. They growled and
+yapped from the back benches. In that dense mass of humanity one could
+hardly pick out individuals, but Montgomery's eyes caught the brazen
+gleam of the helmets held upon the knees of the ten yeomen of his
+escort. At the very edge of the platform sat the reporters, five of
+them: three locals, and two all the way from London. But where was the
+all-important referee? There was no sign of him, unless he were in the
+centre of that angry swirl of men near the door.
+
+Mr. Stapleton had stopped to examine the gloves which were to be used,
+and entered the building after the combatants. He had started to come
+down that narrow lane with the human walls which led to the ring. But
+already it had gone abroad that the Wilson champion was a gentleman, and
+that another gentleman had been appointed as referee. A wave of
+suspicion passed through the Croxley folk. They would have one of their
+own people for a referee. They would not have a stranger. His path was
+stopped as he made for the ring. Excited men flung themselves in front
+of him; they waved their fists in his face and cursed him. A woman
+howled vile names in his ear. Somebody struck at him with an umbrella.
+"Go thou back to Lunnon. We want noan o' thee. Go thou back!" they
+yelled.
+
+Stapleton, with his shiny hat cocked backwards, and his large, bulging
+forehead swelling from under it, looked round him from beneath his bushy
+brows. He was in the centre of a savage and dangerous mob. Then he drew
+his watch from his pocket and held it dial upwards in his palm.
+
+"In three minutes," said he, "I will declare the fight off."
+
+They raged round him. His cool face and that aggressive top-hat
+irritated them. Grimy hands were raised. But it was difficult, somehow,
+to strike a man who was so absolutely indifferent.
+
+"In two minutes I declare the fight off."
+
+They exploded into blasphemy. The breath of angry men smoked into his
+placid face. A gnarled, grimy fist vibrated at the end of his nose. "We
+tell thee we want noan o' thee. Get thou back where thou com'st from."
+
+"In one minute I declare the fight off."
+
+Then the calm persistence of the man conquered the swaying, mutable,
+passionate crowd.
+
+"Let him through, mon. Happen there'll be no fight after a'."
+
+"Let him through."
+
+"Bill, thou loomp, let him pass. Dost want the fight declared off?"
+
+"Make room for the referee!--room for the Lunnon referee!"
+
+And half pushed, half carried, he was swept up to the ring. There were
+two chairs by the side of it, one for him and one for the timekeeper. He
+sat down, his hands on his knees, his hat at a more wonderful angle than
+ever, impassive but solemn, with the aspect of one who appreciates his
+responsibilities.
+
+Mr. Armitage, the portly butcher, made his way into the ring and held up
+two fat hands, sparkling with rings, as a signal for silence.
+
+"Gentlemen!" he yelled. And then in a crescendo shriek, "Gentlemen!"
+
+"And ladies!" cried somebody, for indeed there was a fair sprinkling of
+women among the crowd. "Speak up, owd man!" shouted another. "What price
+pork chops?" cried somebody at the back. Everybody laughed, and the dogs
+began to bark. Armitage waved his hands amidst the uproar as if he were
+conducting an orchestra. At last the babel thinned into silence.
+
+"Gentlemen," he yelled, "the match is between Silas Craggs, whom we call
+the Master of Croxley, and Robert Montgomery, of the Wilson Coal-pits.
+The match was to be under eleven-eight. When they were weighed just now
+Craggs weighed eleven-seven, and Montgomery ten-nine. The conditions of
+the contest are--the best of twenty three-minute rounds with two-ounce
+gloves. Should the fight run to its full length it will, of course, be
+decided upon points. Mr. Stapleton, the well-known London referee, has
+kindly consented to see fair play. I wish to say that Mr. Wilson and I,
+the chief backers of the two men, have every confidence in Mr.
+Stapleton, and that we beg that you will accept his rulings without
+dispute."
+
+He then turned from one combatant to the other, with a wave of his
+hand.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+"Montgomery--Craggs!" said he.
+
+A great hush fell over the huge assembly. Even the dogs stopped yapping;
+one might have thought that the monstrous room was empty. The two men
+had stood up, the small white gloves over their hands. They advanced
+from their corners and shook hands: Montgomery, gravely, Craggs with a
+smile. Then they fell into position. The crowd gave a long sigh--the
+intake of a thousand excited breaths. The referee tilted his chair on to
+its back legs, and looked moodily critical from the one to the other.
+
+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."
+
+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 headmaster 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.
+
+For three rounds the honours were fairly equal. The student's hitting
+was the quicker, the Master's the harder. Profiting by his lesson,
+Montgomery kept himself in the open, and refused to be herded into a
+corner. Sometimes the Master succeeded in rushing him to the side-ropes,
+but the younger man slipped away, or closed and then disengaged. The
+monotonous "Break away! Break away!" of the referee broke in upon the
+quick, low patter of rubber-soled shoes, the dull thud of the blows, and
+the sharp, hissing breath of two tired men.
+
+The ninth round found both of them in fairly good condition.
+Montgomery's head was still singing from the blow that he had in the
+corner, and one of his thumbs pained him acutely and seemed to be
+dislocated. The Master showed no sign of a touch, but his breathing was
+the more laboured, and a long line of ticks upon the referee's paper
+showed that the student had a good show of points. But one of this
+iron-man's blows was worth three of his, and he knew that without the
+gloves he could not have stood for three rounds against him. All the
+amateur work that he had done was the merest tapping and flapping when
+compared to those frightful blows, from arms toughened by the shovel and
+the crowbar.
+
+It was the tenth round, and the fight was half over. The betting now was
+only three to one, for the Wilson champion had held his own much better
+than had been expected. But those who knew the ringcraft as well as the
+staying power of the old prize-fighter knew that the odds were still a
+long way in his favour.
+
+"Have a care of him!" whispered Barton, as he sent his man up to the
+scratch. "Have a care! He'll play thee a trick, if he can."
+
+But Montgomery saw, or imagined he saw, that his antagonist was tiring.
+He looked jaded and listless, and his hands drooped a little from their
+position. His own youth and condition were beginning to tell. He sprang
+in and brought off a fine left-handed lead. The Master's return lacked
+his usual fire. Again Montgomery led, and again he got home. Then he
+tried his right upon the mark, and the Master guarded it downwards.
+
+"Too low! Too low! A foul! A foul!" yelled a thousand voices.
+
+The referee rolled his sardonic eyes slowly round. "Seems to me this
+buildin' is chock-full of referees," said he.
+
+The people laughed and applauded, but their favour was as immaterial to
+him as their anger.
+
+"No applause, please! This is not a theatre!" he yelled.
+
+Montgomery was very pleased with himself. His adversary was evidently in
+a bad way. He was piling on his points and establishing a lead. He might
+as well make hay while the sun shone. The Master was looking all abroad.
+Montgomery popped one upon his blue jowl and got away without a return.
+And then the Master suddenly dropped both his hands and began rubbing
+his thigh. Ah! that was it, was it? He had muscular cramp.
+
+"Go in! Go in!" cried Teddy Barton.
+
+Montgomery sprang wildly forward, and the next instant was lying half
+senseless, with his neck nearly broken, in the middle of the ring.
+
+The whole round had been a long conspiracy to tempt him within reach of
+one of those terrible right-hand upper-cuts for which the Master was
+famous. For this the listless, weary bearing, for this the cramp in the
+thigh. When Montgomery had sprang in so hotly he had exposed himself to
+such a blow as neither flesh nor blood could stand. Whizzing up from
+below with a rigid arm, which put the Master's eleven stone into its
+force, it struck him under the jaw: he whirled half round, and fell a
+helpless and half-paralyzed mass. A vague groan and murmur,
+inarticulate, too excited for words, rose from the great audience. With
+open mouths and staring eyes they gazed at the twitching and quivering
+figure.
+
+"Stand back! Stand right back!" shrieked the referee, for the Master was
+standing over his man ready to give him the _coup-de-grace_ as he rose.
+
+"Stand back, Craggs, this instant!" Stapleton repeated.
+
+The Master sank his hands sulkily and walked backwards to the rope with
+his ferocious eyes fixed upon his fallen antagonist. The timekeeper
+called the seconds. If ten of them passed before Montgomery rose to his
+feet, the fight was ended. Ted Barton wrung his hands and danced about
+in an agony in his corner.
+
+As if in a dream--a terrible nightmare--the student could hear the
+voice of the timekeeper--three--four--five--he got up on his
+hand--six--seven--he was on his knee, sick, swimming, faint, but
+resolute to rise. Eight--he was up, and the Master was on him like a
+tiger, lashing savagely at him with both hands. Folk held their breath
+as they watched those terrible blows, and anticipated the pitiful
+end--so much more pitiful where a game but helpless man refuses to
+accept defeat.
+
+Strangely automatic is the human brain. Without volition, without
+effort, there shot into the memory of this bewildered, staggering,
+half-stupefied man the one thing which could have saved him--that blind
+eye of which the Master's son had spoken. It was the same as the other
+to look at, but Montgomery remembered that he had said that it was the
+left. He reeled to the left side, half felled by a drive which lit upon
+his shoulder. The Master pivoted round upon his leg and was at him in an
+instant.
+
+"Yark him, lad! yark him!" screamed the woman.
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said the referee.
+
+Montgomery slipped to the left again and yet again; but the Master was
+too quick and clever for him. He struck round and got him full on the
+face as he tried once more to break away. Montgomery's knees weakened
+under him, and he fell with a groan on the floor. This time he knew that
+he was done. With bitter agony he realized, as he groped blindly with
+his hands, that he could not possibly raise himself. Far away and
+muffled he heard, amid the murmurs of the multitude, the fateful voice
+of the timekeeper counting off the seconds.
+
+"One--two--three--four--five--six----"
+
+"Time!" said the referee.
+
+Then the pent-up passion of the great assembly broke loose. Croxley gave
+a deep groan of disappointment. The Wilsons were on their feet, yelling
+with delight. There was still a chance for them. In four more seconds
+their man would have been solemnly counted out. But now he had a minute
+in which to recover. The referee looked round with relaxed features and
+laughing eyes. He loved this rough game, this school for humble heroes,
+and it was pleasant to him to intervene as a _Deux ex machina_ at so
+dramatic a moment. His chair and his hat were both tilted at an extreme
+angle; he and the timekeeper smiled at each other. Ted Barton and the
+other second had rushed out and thrust an arm each under Montgomery's
+knee, the other behind his loins, and so carried him back to his stool.
+His head lolled upon his shoulder, but a douche of cold water sent a
+shiver through him, and he started and looked round him.
+
+"He's a' right!" cried the people round. "He's a rare brave lad. Good
+lad! Good lad!" Barton poured some brandy into his mouth. The mists
+cleared a little, and he realized where he was and what he had to do.
+But he was still very weak, and he hardly dared to hope that he could
+survive another round.
+
+"Seconds out of the ring!" cried the referee. "Time!"
+
+The Croxley Master sprang eagerly off his stool.
+
+"Keep clear of him! Go easy for a bit," said Barton, and Montgomery
+walked out to meet his man once more.
+
+He had had two lessons--the one when the Master got him into his corner,
+the other when he had been lured into mixing it up with so powerful an
+antagonist. Now he would be wary. Another blow would finish him; he
+could afford to run no risks. The Master was determined to follow up his
+advantage, and rushed at him, slogging furiously right and left. But
+Montgomery was too young and active to be caught. He was strong upon his
+legs once more, and his wits had all come back to him. It was a gallant
+sight--the line-of-battleship trying to pour its overwhelming broadside
+into the frigate, and the frigate manoeuvring always so as to avoid it.
+The Master tried all his ring-craft. He coaxed the student up by
+pretended inactivity; he rushed at him with furious rushes towards the
+ropes. For three rounds he exhausted every wile in trying to get at him.
+Montgomery during all this time was conscious that his strength was
+minute by minute coming back to him. The spinal jar from an upper-cut is
+overwhelming, but evanescent. He was losing all sense of it beyond a
+great stiffness of the neck. For the first round after his downfall he
+had been content to be entirely on the defensive, only too happy if he
+could stall off the furious attacks of the Master. In the second he
+occasionally ventured upon a light counter. In the third he was smacking
+back merrily where he saw an opening. His people yelled their approval
+of him at the end of every round. Even the iron-workers cheered him with
+that fine unselfishness which true sport engenders. To most of them,
+unspiritual and unimaginative, the sight of this clean-limbed young
+Apollo, rising above disaster and holding on while consciousness was in
+him to his appointed task, was the greatest thing their experience had
+ever known.
+
+But the Master's naturally morose temper became more and more murderous
+at this postponement of his hopes. Three rounds ago the battle had been
+in his hands; now it was all to do over again. Round by round his man
+was recovering his strength. By the fifteenth he was strong again in
+wind and limb. But the vigilant Anastasia saw something which encouraged
+her.
+
+"That bash in t' ribs is telling on him, Jock," she whispered. "Why else
+should he be gulping t' brandy? Go in, lad, and thou hast him yet."
+
+Montgomery had suddenly taken the flask from Barton's hand, and had a
+deep pull at the contents. Then, with his face a little flushed, and
+with a curious look of purpose, which made the referee stare hard at
+him, in his eyes, he rose for the sixteenth round.
+
+"Game as a pairtridge!" cried the publican, as he looked at the hard-set
+face.
+
+"Mix it oop, lad; mix it oop!" cried the iron-men to their Master.
+
+And then a hum of exultation ran through their ranks as they realized
+that their tougher, harder, stronger man held the vantage, after all.
+
+Neither of the men showed much sign of punishment. Small gloves crush
+and numb, but they do not cut. One of the Master's eyes was even more
+flush with his cheek than Nature had made it. Montgomery had two or
+three livid marks upon his body, and his face was haggard, save for that
+pink spot which the brandy had brought into either cheek. He rocked a
+little as he stood opposite his man, and his hands drooped as if he
+felt the gloves to be an unutterable weight. It was evident that he was
+spent and desperately weary. If he received one other blow it must
+surely be fatal to him. If he brought one home, what power could there
+be behind it, and what chance was there of its harming the colossus in
+front of him? It was the crisis of the fight. This round must decide it.
+"Mix it oop, lad; mix it oop!" the iron-men whooped. Even the savage
+eyes of the referee were unable to restrain the excited crowd.
+
+Now, at last, the chance had come for Montgomery. He had learned a
+lesson from his more experienced rival. Why should he not play his own
+game upon him? He was spent, but not nearly so spent as he pretended.
+That brandy was to call up his reserves, to let him have strength to
+take full advantage of the opening when it came. It was thrilling and
+tingling through his veins, at the very moment when he was lurching and
+rocking like a beaten man. He acted his part admirably. The Master felt
+that there was an easy task before him, and rushed in with ungainly
+activity to finish it once for all. He slap-banged away left and right,
+boring Montgomery up against the ropes, swinging in his ferocious blows
+with those animal grunts which told of the vicious energy behind them.
+
+But Montgomery was too cool to fall a victim to any of those murderous
+upper-cuts. He kept out of harm's way with a rigid guard, an active
+foot, and a head which was swift to duck. And yet he contrived to
+present the same appearance of a man who is hopelessly done. The Master,
+weary from his own shower of blows, and fearing nothing from so weak a
+man, dropped his hand for an instant, and at that instant Montgomery's
+right came home.
+
+It was a magnificent blow, straight, clean, crisp, with the force of the
+loins and the back behind it. And it landed where he had meant it
+to--upon the exact point of that blue-grained chin. Flesh and blood
+could not stand such a blow in such a place. Neither valour nor
+hardihood can save the man to whom it comes. The Master fell backwards,
+flat, prostrate, striking the ground with so simultaneous a clap that it
+was like a shutter falling from a wall. A yell which no referee could
+control broke from the crowded benches as the giant went down. He lay
+upon his back, his knees a little drawn up, his huge chest panting. He
+twitched and shook, but could not move. His feet pawed convulsively once
+or twice. It was no use. He was done. "Eight--nine--ten!" said the
+timekeeper, and the roar of a thousand voices, with a deafening clap
+like the broadside of a ship, told that the Master of Croxley was the
+Master no more.
+
+Montgomery stood half dazed, looking down at the huge, prostrate figure.
+He could hardly realize that it was indeed all over. He saw the referee
+motion towards him with his hand. He heard his name bellowed in triumph
+from every side. And then he was aware of some one rushing towards him;
+he caught a glimpse of a flushed face and an aureole of flying red hair,
+a gloveless fist struck him between the eyes, and he was on his back in
+the ring beside his antagonist, while a dozen of his supporters were
+endeavouring to secure the frantic Anastasia. He heard the angry
+shouting of the referee, the screaming of the furious woman, and the
+cries of the mob. Then something seemed to break like an over-stretched
+banjo-string, and he sank into the deep, deep, mist-girt abyss of
+unconsciousness.
+
+The dressing was like a thing in a dream, and so was a vision of the
+Master with the grin of a bulldog upon his face, and his three teeth
+amiably protruded. He shook Montgomery heartily by the hand.
+
+"I would have been rare pleased to shake thee by the throttle, lad, a
+short while syne," said he. "But I bear no ill-feelin' again' thee. It
+was a rare poonch that brought me down--I have not had a better since my
+second fight wi' Billy Edwards in '89. Happen thou might think o' goin'
+further wi' this business. If thou dost, and want a trainer, there's not
+much inside t' ropes as I don't know. Or happen thou might like to try
+it wi' me old style and bare knuckles. Thou hast but to write to t'
+iron-works to find me."
+
+But Montgomery disclaimed any such ambition. A canvas bag with his
+share--one hundred and ninety sovereigns--was handed to him, of which he
+gave ten to the Master, who also received some share of the gate-money.
+
+Then, with young Wilson escorting him on one side, Purvis on the other,
+and Fawcett carrying his bag behind, he went in triumph to his carriage,
+and drove amid a long roar, which lined the highway like a hedge for the
+seven miles, back to his starting-point.
+
+"It's the greatest thing I ever saw in my life. By George, it's
+ripping!" cried Wilson, who had been left in a kind of ecstasy by the
+events of the day. "There's a chap over Barnsley way who fancies himself
+a bit. Let us spring you on him, and let him see what he can make of
+you. We'll put up a purse--won't we, Purvis? You shall never want a
+backer."
+
+"At his weight," said the publican, "I'm behind him, I am, for twenty
+rounds, and no age, country, or color barred."
+
+"So am I!" cried Fawcett; "middle-weight champion of the world, that's
+what he is--here, in the same carriage with us."
+
+But Montgomery was not to be beguiled.
+
+"No; I have my own work to do now."
+
+"And what may that be?"
+
+"I'll use this money to get my medical degree."
+
+"Well, we've plenty of doctors, but you're the only man in the Riding
+that could smack the Croxley Master off his legs. However, I suppose you
+know your own business best. When you're a doctor, you'd best come down
+into these parts, and you'll always find a job waiting for you at the
+Wilson Coal-pits."
+
+Montgomery had returned by devious ways to the surgery. The horses were
+smoking at the door, and the doctor was just back from his long journey.
+Several patients had called in his absence, and he was in the worst of
+tempers.
+
+"I suppose I should be glad that you have come back at all, Mr.
+Montgomery!" he snarled. "When next you elect to take a holiday, I
+trust, it will not be at so busy a time."
+
+"I am sorry, sir, that you should have been inconvenienced."
+
+"Yes, sir, I have been exceedingly inconvenienced." Here, for the first
+time, he looked hard at the assistant. "Good heavens, Mr. Montgomery,
+what have you been doing with your left eye?"
+
+It was where Anastasia had lodged her protest.
+
+Montgomery laughed. "It is nothing, sir," said he.
+
+"And you have a livid mark under your jaw. It is, indeed, terrible that
+my representative should be going about in so disreputable a condition.
+How did you receive these injuries?"
+
+"Well, sir, as you know, there was a little glove-fight to-day over at
+Croxley."
+
+"And you got mixed up with that brutal crowd?"
+
+"I _was_ rather mixed up with them."
+
+"And who assaulted you?"
+
+"One of the fighters."
+
+"Which of them?"
+
+"The Master of Croxley."
+
+"Good heavens! Perhaps you interfered with him?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth, I did a little."
+
+"Mr. Montgomery, in such a practice as mine, intimately associated as it
+is with the highest and most progressive elements of our small
+community, it is impossible----"
+
+But just then the tentative bray of a cornet-player searching for his
+keynote jarred upon their ears, and an instant later the Wilson Colliery
+brass band was in full cry with, "See the Conquering Hero Comes,"
+outside the surgery window. There was a banner waving, and a shouting
+crowd of miners.
+
+"What is it? What does it mean?" cried the angry doctor.
+
+"It means, sir, that I have, in the only way which was open to me,
+earned the money which is necessary for my education. It is my duty,
+Doctor Oldacre, to warn you that I am about to return to the University,
+and that you should lose no time in appointing my successor."
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    Transcriber Notes:
+
+    page 44 Original: "Montgomery looked askance
+
+    Replaced: Montgomery looked askance
+
+
+    Unchanged:
+
+    page 60 Original: "Break away! Break away?" cried the referee.
+
+    retained the ?, perhaps ! intended.
+
+    page 66 a _Deux ex machina_ at so dramatic a moment.
+    perhaps intended Deus - left as clearly printed
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Croxley Master: A Great Tale Of
+The Prize Ring, by Arthur Conan Doyle
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