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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Hello, there, Doc!" "How do you do, Mr. Klinker?" "Been up chinning your sporting editor, Ragsy Hurd. Trying to arrange a mill at the Mercury between Smithy of the Y.M.C.A. and Hank McGurk, the White Plains Cyclone." "A mill ?" "Scrap boxin' match, y' know. Done up your writings for the day?" "My newspaper writings yes." In the brilliant close quarters of the lift, Klinker was looking at Mr.
He could fight, and he could avoid trouble. In all that had occurred he had striven to avoid trouble. And, also, consideration for her and Mary had been uppermost in his mind. "You are brave," she said to him. "It's like takin' candy from a baby," he disclaimed. "They only rough-house. They don't know boxin'. They're wide open, an' all you gotta do is hit 'em. It ain't real fightin', you know."
So there we was at it I holdin' Mike, and Mitch and Kit squared off boxin' like mad. I gave Mike the swing and tumbled him, and then lay on him and held him down. But it was awful hard and he was gradually gettin' away from me, and strikin' me in the chest and sometimes in the face. He had big fists and an awful punch.
"I'll fetch ye this time," he muttered between his compressed lips; "ye shan't git out of me hands till ye's down flat on yer back and mesilf layin' a-straddle of ye. There's a difference between boxin' and sparrin' and I shall taich ye the same, as me grandmither " Both went down that instant, but the Shawanoe was on top.
"One of the things I am going to do, after the Magic works and before I begin to make scientific discoveries, is to be an athlete." "We shall have thee takin' to boxin' in a week or so," said Ben Weatherstaff. "Tha'lt end wi' winnin' th' Belt an' bein' champion prize-fighter of all England." Colin fixed his eyes on him sternly. "Weatherstaff," he said, "that is disrespectful.
Did you ever see a Chink go swimmin' out through the breakers at Carmel? or boxin', wrestlin', runnin' an' jumpin' for the sport of it? Did you ever see a Chink take a shotgun on his arm, tramp six miles, an' come back happy with one measly rabbit? What does a Chink do? Work his damned head off. That's all he's good for.
"That's what they call 'em, Geoff but there ain't much boxin' to it; real boxin' don't go down wid d' sports, it's d' punch they wanter see good, stiff wallops as jars a guy an' makes his knees get wobbly swings and jolts as makes a guy blind an' deaf an' sick. Oh, I been like that, an' I know an' it ain't all candy t' hear everybody yellin' to the other guy to go in an' finish ye!"
"Eh Arthur fightin' where?" "He go make-a-da-box he drink-a-da-booze, den he walk-a so! Den da Signorina she-a-cry " "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, "you mean as that b'y's off boxin' again?" "Si, si he go make-a-da-box-fight." "Is he over at O'Rourke's, Tony?" enquired Ravenslee, sitting upright. "I bet-a-my-life, yes " "Oh, Mr. Geoffrey!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, clasping bony hands.
Sam can go home, too, if he has a mind, and the youngster can stay and help me look after things. I've seen a many Christmasses, said I, 'and I'd as lief spend this one at Plymouth as anywhere else. You can give 'em all my love, and turn up again the day after Boxin' Day and mind you ask for excursion tickets, I said. "They tumbled the boat out fast enough, you may be sure.
I can be bilked into buyin' tickets for a raffle, even when I wouldn't take the junk that's put up as a gift, and I'm easy in other ways; but when it comes to any gate-money game, from launchin' a musical comedy to openin' a new boxin' club, I'm Tight Tommy with the time lock set. None in mine! I've had my guesses as to what the public wants, and I know I'm a perfectly punk prophet.
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