Very well, shout when you think the five minutes are up."
Stranleigh took off his coat, and threw it on the camp-stool. The big fellow disdained any such compliment to his opponent.
"Come on, you !" and here followed a number of descriptive epithets that were not only coarse, but uncomplimentary.
Stranleigh sprang at him like a tiger-cat, landed one right-hander in his left eye, and a left-hander in his right eye, in such quick succession that the man staggered and threw up his hands, only to get a right-hander square in the mouth, then a left-hand blow at the point of the jaw, and a terrific right-hander, as the man's head turned sideways, under the ear that sounded like the back of an axe striking an oak post. The bargee fell as a tree falls, and lay there.
"How's that, umpire?" cried Stranleigh, smiling up at the man who would have taken care of a watch if he had it. "What's the time?"
"Blimey!" cried the man, "you never gave him a chance. Is that what you call science?"
"No," said Stranleigh, "there's no science about that at all; simply straight slogging. If any other of you chaps want to see a bit of science, I'll take you on."
But they weren't having any, they said. It was Bank Holiday, and they'd come out to enjoy themselves.
