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development； the surface of the abdomen showed the peculiar
corrugation of the very strong man； the round； columnar neck arose
massive。
〃By Jove！〃 said Gerald； roused at last from his habitual apathy。
〃What's the matter？〃 asked Orde； looking up from tying the rubber…
soled shoes that Gerald had lent him。
〃Murphy；〃 called Gerald； 〃come here。〃
A very hairy； thick…set； bullet…headed man； the type of semi…
professional 〃handlers；〃 emerged from somewhere across the
gymnasium。
〃Do you think you could down this fellow？〃 asked Gerald。
Murphy looked Orde over critically。
〃Who ye ringin' in on me？〃 he inquired。
〃This is a friend of mine；〃 said Gerald severely。
〃Beg your pardon。 The gentleman is well put up。 How much
experience has he had？〃
〃Ever box much？〃 Gerald asked Orde。
〃Box？〃 Orde laughed。 〃Never had time for that sort of thing。 Had
the gloves on a few times。〃
〃Where dil him。 He's a friend
of mine。〃
Then he stepped back； the same joy in his soul that inspires a
riverman when he encounters a high…banker； a hunter when he takes
out a greenhorn； or a cowboy as he watches the tenderfoot about to
climb the bronco。
〃Time！〃 said he。
The first round was sharp。 When Gerald called the end； Orde grinned
at him cheerfully。
〃Don't look like I was much at this game； does it？〃 said he。 〃I
wouldn't pull down many persimmons out of that tree。 Your
confounded man's too lively； I couldn't hit him with a shotgun。〃
Orde had stood like a rock； his feet planted to the floor； while
Murphy had circled around him hitting at will。 Orde hit back； but
without landing。 Nevertheless Murphy； when questioned apart； did
not seem satisfied。
〃The man's pig…iron；〃 said he。 〃I punched him plenty hard enough；
and it didn't seem to jar hd you get your training； sir？〃 asked the handler。
〃My training？〃 repeated Orde； puzzled。 〃Oh； I see！ I was always
pretty heavy； and I suppose the work on the river keeps a man in
pretty good shape。〃
Gerald's languor had vanished； and a glint had appeared in his eye
that would have reminded Orde of Miss Bishop's most mischievous mood
could he have seen it。
〃Put on the gloves with Murphy；〃 he suggested； 〃will you？ I'd like
to see you two at it。〃
〃Surely；〃 agreed Orde good…naturedly。 〃I'm not much good at it； but
I'd just as soon try。〃 He was evidently not in the least afraid to
meet the handler； though as evidently without much confidence in his
own skill。
〃All right； I'll be with you in a second；〃 said Gerald；
disappearing。 In the anteroom he rung a bell； and to the boy who
leisurely answered its summons he said rapidly：
〃Run over to the club and find Mr。 Winslow； Mr。 Clark； and whoever
else is in the smoking room； and tell them from me to cone over to
the gymnasium。 Tell them there's some fun on。〃
Then he returned to the gymnasium floor； where Murphy was answering
Orde's questions as to the apparatus。 While the two men were
pulling on the gloves； Gerald managed a word apart with the trainer。
〃Can you do him； Murph？〃 he whispered。
〃Sure！〃 said the handler。 〃Them kind's always as slow as dray…
horses。 They gets muscle…bound。〃
〃Give it to him；〃 said Gerald； 〃but don't kilim。〃
The gallery at one end the running track had by flow half filled
with interested spectators。
〃Time！〃 called Gerald for round two。
This time Murphy went in more viciously； aiming and measuring his
blows accurately。 Orde stood as before； a humourous smile of self…
depreciation on his face； hitting back at the elusive Murphy； but
without much effect； his feet never stirring in their tracks。 The
handler used his best tactics and landed almost at will； but without
apparent damage。 He grew uglyfinally lost his head。
〃Well； if ye will have it！〃 he muttered； and aimed what was intended
as a knockout blow。
Gerald uttered a half cry of warning as his practised eye caught
Murphy's intention。 The blow landed。 Orde's head snapped back； but
to the surprise of every one the punch had no other effect； and a
quick exchange of infighting sent Murphy staggering back from the
encounter。 The smile had disappeared from Orde's face； and his eye
had calmed。
〃Look here；〃 he called to Gerald； 〃I don't understand this game very
well。 At school we used 'taps。' Is a man supposed to hit hard？〃
Gerald hesitated； then looked beyond Orde to the gallery。 To a man
it made frantic and silent demonstration。
〃Of course you hit；〃 he replied。 〃You can't hurt any one with those
big gloves。〃
Orde turned back to his antagonist。 The latter advanced once more；
his bullet head sunk between his shoulders； his little eyes
twinkling。 Evidently Mr。 Bishop's friend would now take the
aggressive； and forward movement would deliver an extra force to the
professional's blows。
Orde did not wait for Murphy； however。 Like a tiger he sprang
forward； hitting out fiercely； first with one hand then with the
other。 Murphy gave ground； blocked； ducked； exerted all a ring
general's skill either to stop or avoid the rush。 Orde followed him
insistent。 Several times he landed； but always when Murphy was on
the retreat； so the blows had not much weight。 Several times Murphy
ducked in and planted a number of short…arm jabs at close range。
The round ended almost immediately to a storm of applause from the
galleries。
〃What do you think of his being muscle…bound？〃 Gerald asked Murphy；
as the latter flung himself panting on the wrestling mat for his
rest。
〃He's quick as chained lightning；〃 acknowledged the other
grudgingly。 〃But I'll get him。 He can't keep that up； he'll be
winded in half a minute。〃
Orde sat down on a roll of mat。 His smile had quite vanished； and
he seemed to be awaiting eagerly the beginning of the next round。
〃Time！〃 called Gerald for the third。
Orde immediately sprang at his adversary； repeating the headlong
rush with which the previous round had ended。 Murphy blocked；
ducked； and kept away； occasionally delivering a jolt as opportunity
offered； awaiting the time when Orde's weariness would leave him at
the other's mercy。 That moment did not come。 The young man
hammered away tirelessly； insistently； delivering a hurricane of his
two…handed blows； pressing relentlessly in as Murphy shifted and
gave ground； his head up； his eyes steady； oblivious to the return
hammering the now desperate handler opposed to him。 Two minutes
passed without perceptible slackening in this terrific pace。 The
gallery was in an uproar； and some of the members were piling down
the stairs to the floor。 Perspiration stood out all over Murphy's
body。 His blows failed of their effect； and some of Orde's were
landing。 At length； bewildered more by the continuance than the
violence of the attack； he drop