ck, low patter of rubber-soled shoes, the dull thud
of the blows, and the sharp, hissing breath of two tired men.

The ninth round found both of them in fairly good condition.
Montgomery's head was still singing from the blow that he had in the
corner, and one of his thumbs pained him acutely and seemed to be
dislocated. The Master showed no sign of a touch, but his breathing was
the more laboured, and a long line of ticks upon the referee's paper
showed that the student had a good show of points. But one of this
iron-man's blows was worth three of his, and he knew that without the
gloves he could not have stood for three rounds against him. All the
amateur work that he had done was the merest tapping and flapping when
compared to those frightful blows, from arms toughened by the shovel and
the crowbar.

It was the tenth round, and the fight was half over. The betting now
was only three to one, for the Wilson champion had held his own much
better than had been expected. But those who knew the ring-craft as
well as the staying power of the old prize-fighter knew that the odds
were still a long way in his favour.

"Have a care of him!" whispered Barton, as he sent his man up to the
scratch. "Have a care! He'll play thee a trick, if he can."

But Montgomery saw, or imagined he saw, that his antagonist was tiring.
He looked jaded and listless, and his hands drooped a little from their
position. His own youth and condition were beginning to tell.
He sprang in and brought off a fine left-handed lead. The Master's
return lacked his usual fire. Again Montgomery led, and again he got
home. Then he tried his right upon the mark, and the Master guarded it
downwards.

"Too low! Too low! A foul! A foul!" yelled a thousand voices.

The referee rolled his sardonic eyes slowly round. "Seems to me this
buildin' is chock-full of referees," said he. The people laughed and
applauded, but their favour was as immaterial to him as their anger.
"No applause, please! This is not a theatre!" he yelled.

Montgomery was very pleased with himself. His adversary was evidently
in a bad way. He was piling on his points and establishing a lead.
He might as well make hay while the sun shone. The Master was looking
all abroad. Montgomery popped one upon his blue jowl and got away
without a return. And then the Master suddenly dropped both his hands
and began rubbing his thigh. Ah! that was it, was it? He had muscular
cramp.