you and lived to be Champions of England. Here I sit with that very
title. Was I not beat down Broadwater way by George Nicholls in 1805?
What then? I fought on, and here I am. When the big Black came from
America it was not George Nicholls they sent for. I say to you--fight
on, and by George, I'll see you in my own shoes yet!"

Tom Spring shook his head. "Never, if I have to fight you to get there,
Daddy."

"I can't keep it for ever, Tom. It's beyond all reason. I'm going to lay
it down before all London at the Fives Courts next year, and it's to you
that I want to hand it. I couldn't train down to it now, lad. My day's
done."

"Well, Dad, I'll never bid for it till you choose to stand aside. After
that, it is as it may be."

"Well, have a rest, Tom; wait for your chance, and, meantime, there's
always a bed and crust for you here."

Spring struck his clenched fist on his knee. "I know, Daddy! Ever since
I came up from Fownthorpe you've been as good as a father to me."

"I've an eye for a winner."

"A pretty winner! Beat in forty rounds by Ned Painter."

"You had beat him first."

"And by the Lord, I will again!"

"So you will, lad. George Nicholls would never give me another shy. Knew
too much, he did. Bought a butcher's shop in Bristol with the money, and
there he is to this day."

"Yes, I'll come back on Painter, but I haven't a shilling left. My
backers have lost faith in me. If it wasn't for you, Daddy, I'd be in
the kennel."

"Have you nothing left, Tom?"

"Not the price of a meal. I left every penny I had, and my good name as
well, in the ring at Kingston. I'm hard put to it to live unless I can
get another fight, and who's going to back me now?"

"Tut, man! the knowing ones will back you. You're the top of the list,
for all Ned Painter. But there are other ways a man may earn a bit.
There was a lady in here this morning--nothing flash, boy, a real
tip-top out-and-outer with a coronet on her coach--asking after you."

"Asking after me! A lady!" The young pugilist stood up with surprise and
a certain horror rising in his eyes. "You don't mean, Daddy--"

"I mean nothing but what is honest, my lad. You can lay to that!"

"You said I could earn a bit."

"So, perhaps, you can. Enough, anyhow, to tide you over your bad time.
There's something in the wind there. It's to do with fightin'. She asked
questions about your height, weight, and my opinion of your prospect.
You can lay that my answers did