r his left arm, which was bent like
a steel crescent, the huge head of Phelem-ghe-Madone, and held it there
under his armpits, the neck bent and twisted, whilst Helmsgail's right
fist fell again and again like a hammer on a nail, only from below and
striking upwards, thus smashing his opponent's face at his ease. When
Phelem, released at length, lifted his head, he had no longer a face.

That which had been a nose, eyes, and a mouth now looked only like a
black sponge, soaked in blood. He spat, and on the ground lay four of
his teeth.

Then he fell. Kilter received him on his knee.

Helmsgail was hardly touched: he had some insignificant bruises and a
scratch on his collar bone.

No one was cold now. They laid sixteen and a quarter to one on
Helmsgail.

Harry Carleton cried out,--

"It is all over with Phelem-ghe-Madone. I will lay my peerage of
Bella-aqua, and my title of Lord Bellew, against the Archbishop of
Canterbury's old wig, on Helmsgail."

"Give me your muzzle," said Kilter to Phelem-ghe-Madone. And stuffing
the bloody flannel into the bottle, he washed him all over with gin. The
mouth reappeared, and he opened one eyelid. His temples seemed
fractured.

"One round more, my friend," said Kilter; and he added, "for the honour
of the low town."

The Welsh and the Irish understand each other, still Phelem made no sign
of having any power of understanding left.

Phelem arose, supported by Kilter. It was the twenty-fifth round. From
the way in which this Cyclops, for he had but one eye, placed himself in
position, it was evident that this was the last round, for no one
doubted his defeat. He placed his guard below his chin, with the
awkwardness of a failing man.

Helmsgail, with a skin hardly sweating, cried out,--

"I'll back myself, a thousand to one."

Helmsgail, raising his arm, struck out; and, what was strange, both
fell. A ghastly chuckle was heard. It was Phelem-ghe-Madone's expression
of delight. While receiving the terrible blow given him by Helmsgail on
the skull, he had given him a foul blow on the navel.

Helmsgail, lying on his back, rattled in his throat.

The spectators looked at him as he lay on the ground, and said, "Paid
back!" All clapped their hands, even those who had lost.
Phelem-ghe-Madone had given foul blow for foul blow, and had only
asserted his right.

They carried Helmsgail off on a hand-barrow. The opinion was that he
would not recover.

Lord Robartes exclaimed,