Summary

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle Rodney Stone — Chapter XI: The Fight in the Coach-house (1896)

But there was no shyness or shiftiness about Berks's fighting. He was always a gallant ruffian, who disdained to go down before an antagonist as long as his legs would sustain him. He propped Jim off with his long arm, and though the lad sprang lightly round him looking for an opening, he was held off as if a forty-inch bar of iron were between them. Every instant now was in favour of Berks, and already his breathing was easier and the bluish tinge fading from his face.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle Rodney Stone — Chapter XI: The Fight in the Coach-house (1896)

The hubbub of the betting had risen until it drowned all other sounds, men shouting their opinions from one side of the coach-house to the other, and waving their hands to attract attention, or as a sign that they had accepted a wager. Sir John Lade, standing just in front of me, was roaring out the odds against Jim, and laying them freely with those who fancied the appearance of the unknown.
"I've seen Berks fight," said he to the Honourable Berkeley Craven. "No country hawbuck is going to knock out a man with such a record."
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle Rodney Stone — Chapter XI: The Fight in the Coach-house (1896)

Joe Berks in the meanwhile had swaggered in and stood with folded arms between his seconds in the opposite corner. His face had none of the eager alertness of his opponent, and his skin, of a dead white, with heavy folds about the chest and ribs, showed, even to my inexperienced eyes, that he was not a man who should fight without training.
Source: Wikisource

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