o do
the work you can while you're at it."

As the days went by, Sheen began to imbibe some of Joe Bevan's rugged
philosophy of life. He began to understand that the world is a place
where every man has to look after himself, and that it is the stronger
hand that wins. That sentence from _Hamlet_ which Joe Bevan was so
fond of quoting practically summed up the whole duty of man--and boy
too. One should not seek quarrels, but, "being in," one should do one's
best to ensure that one's opponent thought twice in future before
seeking them. These afternoons at the "Blue Boar" were gradually giving
Sheen what he had never before possessed--self-confidence. He was
beginning to find that he was capable of something after all, that in
an emergency he would be able to keep his end up. The feeling added a
zest to all that he did. His work in school improved. He looked at the
Gotford no longer as a prize which he would have to struggle to win. He
felt that his rivals would have to struggle to win it from him.

After his twelfth lesson, when he had learned the ground-work of the
art, and had begun to develop a style of his own, like some nervous
batsman at cricket who does not show his true form till he has been at
the wickets for several overs, the dog-loving Francis gave him a trial.
This was a very different affair from his spars with Joe Bevan. Frank
Hunt was one of the cleverest boxers at his weight in England, but he
had not Joe Bevan's gift of hitting gently. He probably imagined that
he was merely tapping, and certainly his blows were not to be compared
with those he delivered in the exercise of his professional duties;
but, nevertheless, Sheen had never felt anything so painful before, not
even in his passage of arms with Albert. He came out of the encounter
with a swollen lip and a feeling that one of his ribs was broken, and
he had not had the pleasure of landing a single blow upon his slippery
antagonist, who flowed about the room like quicksilver. But he had not
flinched, and the statement of Francis, as they shook hands, that he
had "done varry well," was as balm. Boxing is one of the few sports
where the loser can feel the same thrill of triumph as the winner.
There is no satisfaction equal to that which comes when one has forced
oneself to go through an ordeal from which one would have liked to have
escaped.

"Capital, sir, capital," said Joe Bevan. "I wanted to see whether you
would lay down or not when you began