"Give me the mug," he said to 'Erb, and washed out his mouth. "How long 'time' is observed on these occasions?" he asked of John Bull.
"Oh, nothing's regular," was the reply. "'Rounds' end when you fall apart, and 'time' ends when both are ready…. You aren't going for him again, are you?"
"I'm going for him as long as I can stand and see," was the answer. 'Erb patted him on the back.
"Blimey! You're a White Man, matey," he commended. "S'welp me, you are!"
"Seconds out of the ring," bawled the Bucking Bronco, and unceremoniously shoved back all who delayed.
A look of incredulity spread over the face of the Italian. Could it be possible that the fool did not know that he was utterly beaten and abolished? … He tenderly felt his jaw and aching ribs….
It was true. The Englishman advanced upon him, the light of battle in his eyes, and fierce determination expressed in the frown upon his white face. His mouth bore no expression—it was merely a mess.
A cheer went up from the spectators.
A recruit asking for it twice, from Luigi Rivoli!
That famous man, though by no means anxious, was slightly perplexed. There was something here to which he was not accustomed. It was the first time in his experience that this had happened. Few men had defied and faced him once—none had done it twice. This, in itself was bad, and in the nature of a faint blow to his prestige…. He had tried a grapple—with unfortunate results; he had tried a kick—most successfully, and he would try another
