nd or two then and there.

If I hadn't been a fool, Bertie, I should never have consented. It's
one of my many weaknesses, that, whether it's a woman or a man, anything
like a challenge sets me off. But I knew Cullingworth's ways, and I told
you in my last what a lamb of a temper he has. None the less, we pushed
back the table, put the lamp on a high bracket, and stood up to one
another.

The moment I looked him in the face I smelled mischief. He had a gleam
of settled malice in his eye. I believe it was my refusal to back his
paper which was running in his head. Anyway he looked as dangerous as he
could look, with his scowling face sunk forward a little, his hands
down near his hips (for his boxing, like everything else about him, is
unconventional), and his jaw set like a rat-trap.

I led off, and then in he came hitting with both hands, and grunting
like a pig at every blow. From what I could see of him he was no boxer
at all, but just a formidable rough and tumble fighter. I was guarding
with both hands for half a minute, and then was rushed clean off my legs
and banged up against the door, with my head nearly through one of the
panels. He wouldn't stop then, though he saw that I had no space to get
my elbows back; and he let fly a right-hander which would have put me
into the hall, if I hadn't slipped it and got back to the middle of the
room.

"Look here, Cullingworth," said I; "there's not much boxing about this
game."

"Yes, I hit pretty hard, don't I?"

"If you come boring into me like that, I'm bound to hit you out again,"
I said. "I want to play light if you'll let me."

The words were not out of my mouth before he was on me like a flash. I
slipped him again; but the room was so small, and he as active as a cat,
that there was no getting away from him. He was on me once more with
a regular football rush that knocked me off my balance. Before I knew
where I was he got his left on the mark and his right on my ear. I
tripped over a footstool, and then before I could get my balance he had
me on the same ear again, and my head was singing like a tea-kettle.
He was as pleased as possible with himself, blowing out his chest and
slapping it with his palms as he took his place in the middle of the
room.

"Say when you've had enough, Munro," said he.

This was pretty stiff, considering that I had two inches the better of
him in height, and as many stone in weight, besides being the better
boxer. His energy