to call time together, and then we moved
each to our corner. Phil peeled as quietly as though he were going to
bed, Acton with feverish haste, which perhaps was his foreign blood
working out; beside Acton's swift, impulsive movements Phil's leisurely
arrangements seemed sluggish indeed.

"Time!" said Vercoe and I in chorus, and I added in an undertone to my
man, "Go in and win."

It was obvious from the start that Phil was not as good a man as Acton
as far as skill was concerned, but when it came to well-knit strength
there was no doubt that Phil had the pull. Acton's eagerness was a
disadvantage against one so cool as Bourne. In the very first round,
Acton, in his overwhelming desire to knock Phil out in as short a space
as possible, neglected every ordinary precaution, and, after a spirited
rally, Phil broke through Acton's slovenly guard, and sent him spinning
into Vercoe's arms. We called time together, and to my intense
satisfaction the first round resulted in our favour.

After that, thoroughly steadied by Phil's gentle reminder, Acton dropped
all looseness, and began to treat Phil with the greatest respect, never
taking any risks, but working in a scientific fashion, which poor Phil
found hard enough to parry, and when he could not do that, hard enough
to bear. But he never faltered; he took all that Acton could give him in
imperturbable good temper, working in his dogged fashion as though he
were absolutely confident of winning in the long run, and as
disregarding present inconveniences because they were expected, and
because the ultimate reward would repay all a hundred-fold.

There was also something else I noticed. Acton did not do so much damage
as he ought to have done, and I found him constantly "short," but when
Phil did score there was the unmistakable ring of a telling blow. I was
puzzled in my mind why Acton was so "short," but I think now it was
because he had never done anything but with gloves on, and fisticuffs,
which were more or less familiar with Phil, were unknown to him. They
don't fight, I believe, in France or Germany with Nature's weapons, but
occasional turn-ups with the farmers' sons and the canal men had, of
course, fallen to Phil's share.

On each occasion that Phil got home, Acton answered with a vicious
spurt which did not do much good, but only tired him, and at the end of
the seventh round I was astonished to think that Phil had stood the
racket so well. Phil's lips were puffy,