W. Pett Ridge

“ You grunt loudly now, Wag Mills; you retire backward around the ring. You slip down, your opponent stands over you, and you refuse to get up, until the Arch screams insistently, and orders you to do so. There is blood on your nose, too, now, Wag Mills; you hiss through your teeth, as though imitating the music of the locomotives over head. You do not look so steadily as before into your opponent's eyes; but he still directs at you the same persistent stare as he gives you blow after blow. ”

“ On the wall of the arch were a few framed photographs of half-stripped men presenting their fists to each other; also a number of portraits of gloomy, important-looking boxers on pink paper, taken from a New York illustrated journal. The square space on the floor was, excepting for the presence of two wooden chairs, empty. Mord Em'ly stood with Ronicker on the topmost form at the back, where they had to crane their heads to avoid contact with the curved roof, and Ronicker pointed out to her the gangway through which Henry Barden would arrive. ”

“ Wag Mills, in his short coat, hurries across the ring, and congratulates his stolid conqueror; then, taking somebody's bowler hat, runs out along the crowded seats, catching in the hat adroitly the copper shower that comes down upon him. Henry Barden's backer, the Australian, steps into the ring, and Mr. Flops, at his request, presents to the winner a purse. The Australian says that Henry Barden is a real man all the way through, and whenever he wants a good job he must come out down under, and take charge of a little boxing place that the Australian runs. ”