tive blow of the fist--savage,
uncultivated, in a state of ignorance; on the other side, the civilized
blow of the fist. Helmsgail fought as much with his nerves as with his
muscles, and with as much intention as force. Phelem-ghe-Madone was a
kind of sluggish mauler--somewhat mauled himself, to begin with. It was
art against nature. It was cultivated ferocity against barbarism.

It was clear that the barbarian would be beaten, but not very quickly.
Hence the interest.

A little man against a big one, and the chances are in favour of the
little one. The cat has the best of it with a dog. Goliaths are always
vanquished by Davids.

A hail of exclamations followed the combatants.

"Bravo, Helmsgail! Good! Well done, Highlander! Now, Phelem!"

And the friends of Helmsgail repeated their benevolent exhortation,--

"Bung up his peepers!"

Helmsgail did better. Rapidly bending down and back again, with the
undulation of a serpent, he struck Phelem-ghe-Madone in the sternum. The
Colossus staggered.

"Foul blow!" cried Viscount Barnard.

Phelem-ghe-Madone sank down on the knee of his second, saying,--

"I am beginning to get warm."

Lord Desertum consulted the umpires, and said,--

"Five minutes before time is called."

Phelem-ghe-Madone was becoming weaker. Kilter wiped the blood from his
face and the sweat from his body with a flannel, and placed the neck of
a bottle to his mouth. They had come to the eleventh round. Phelem,
besides the scar on his forehead, had his breast disfigured by blows,
his belly swollen, and the fore part of the head scarified. Helmsgail
was untouched.

A kind of tumult arose amongst the gentlemen.

Lord Barnard repeated, "Foul blow."

"Bets void!" said the Laird of Lamyrbau.

"I claim my stake!" replied Sir Thomas Colpepper.

And the honourable member for the borough of Saint Ives, Sir Bartholomew
Gracedieu, added, "Give me back my five hundred guineas, and I will go.
Stop the fight."

Phelem arose, staggering like a drunken man, and said,--

"Let us go on fighting, on one condition--that I also shall have the
right to give one foul blow."

They cried "Agreed!" from all parts of the ring. Helmsgail shrugged his
shoulders. Five minutes elapsed, and they set to again.

The fighting, which was agony to Phelem, was play to Helmsgail. Such are
the triumphs of science.

The little man found means of putting the big one into chancery--that is
to say, Helmsgail suddenly took unde