o' me.'

He had been fighting his way out of the local dialect for half a dozen
years, but it was expedient not to forget it here.

'I dunno about that,' said the man with the waistcoat. 'Who bist?'

'Armstrong's my naaem,' said Paul. 'I've lived i' the Barfield Road all
my life.'

'Can ye put 'em up?' was the next query. 'Why, yes,' said Paul. 'I can
put 'em up if I see rayson for it.'

'All right We'll tak' yo on in place of Ikey Blades. This is the fust
chap yo'n ha' to tackle. Billy Tunks he is--comes from Virgin's End.'

Billy Tunks (or Tonks, more probably) carried one of the pale and
staring faces Paul had already noticed. He and Paul surveyed each other.

The man in the rabbit-skin waistcoat, having arranged preliminaries,
explained to Paul. This was 'a little bit of a friendly turn-up with
the weepons of Natur',' intended to settle the disputed qualities of
the youth of eight local parishes. Paul's presence, it appeared, was
entirely providential, for, with the exception of the seven candidates
here in search of glory, there was nobody present who had not at one
time or another 'fowt' for money.

'I suppose,' said Paul's informant, 'you've never fowt for money?'

'No,' Paul answered, 'I've never fowt for money. Mek yourself easy on
that score.'

'Oh,' said the other, 'I wasn't castin' no suspicion. But it's just a
quiet bit o' fun like for them as ain't been blooded in a reg'lar way.
It's a bit o' fun for the young uns. Billy an' yov comes second.'

'All right,' said Paul.

He thought of Ralston's letter, and laughed. Lofty conduct breeds the
lofty ideal. What would Ralston say to this, he wondered? Not that the
thing had a touch of barbarism to his mind. It was rough, of course,
but it was inspiring, and he was used to it. He had seen a great deal
of this peculiar sport, and had a warm liking for it. Being in it was
better than looking on, but even looking on was pleasant.

'Now, lads,' said the master of the ceremonies, 'get to your corners.
An', gentlemen-sports all, no shoutin'.'

The business of the afternoon began in earnest A brace of lads stood up,
stripped to the waist They shook hands, and set to work. The men were
mere clowns, but the exhibition was anything but clownish. In that part
of the world, at least, the traditions of the game were kept alive,
and there was plenty of sound scientific fighting to be seen. Paul
knew enough to recognise it when he saw it, and he had not watched