Queer little beast.

He knocked Harberth clean out, they say.
Perhaps his father has had him properly taught and he can really box.
Ever seen him play footer?
Nippiest little devil _I_ ever saw.

Staunch too.

Rum go," commented his friend.
Dam thought of Sergeant Havlan and his son, the punching-ball, and the fighting days at Monksmead.

Perhaps he could "really" box, after all.
Anyhow he knew enough to hit straight and put his weight into it, to guard chin and mark, to use his feet, duck, dodge, and side step.
Suppose Harberth knew as much?
Well--since he was far stronger, taller, and heavier, the only hope of success lay in the fact that he was connected with the Snake--from whom mere blows in the open would be welcome.
Anyhow he would die or win.
The positive joy of fighting _It_ in the glorious day and open air, instead of in the Bottomless Pit--bound, stifled, mad with Fear--none could realize....
Bully Harberth entered the ring accompanied by Shanner, who looked like a Sixth Form boy and was in the Shell.
Harberth wore a thick sweater and looked very strong and heavy.
"If the little kid lasts three rounds with _that_" observed Cokeson to Coxe Major, "he ought to be chaired." Dam was disposed to agree with him in his heart, but he had no fear.
The feeling that _his_ brief innings had come--after the Snake had had Its will of him for a dozen years--swallowed up all other feelings.
Coxe Major stepped into the ring.