Part 34 (2/2)

”I agree,” said Courtlandt.

”No rounds with rests; until one or the other is outside. Clean breaks.

That's about all. Now, put up your dukes and take a man's licking. I thought you were your father's son, but I guess you are like the rest of 'em, hunters of women.”

Courtlandt laughed and stepped to the middle of the court. Harrigan did not waste any time. He sent in a straight jab to the jaw, but Courtlandt blocked it neatly and countered with a hard one on Harrigan's ear, which began to swell.

”Fine!” growled Harrigan. ”You know something about the game. It won't be as if I was walloping a baby.” He sent a left to the body, but the right failed to reach his man.

For some time Harrigan jabbed and swung and upper-cut; often he reached his opponent's body, but never his face. It worried him a little to find that he could not stir Courtlandt more than two or three feet. Courtlandt never followed up any advantage, thus making Harrigan force the fighting, which was rather to his liking. But presently it began to enter his mind convincingly that apart from the initial blow, the younger man was working wholly on the defensive. As if he were afraid he might hurt him! This served to make the old fellow furious. He bored in right and left, left and right, and Courtlandt gave way, step by step until he was so close to the line that he could see it from the corner of his eye. This glance, swift as it was, came near to being his undoing. Harrigan caught him with a terrible right on the jaw. It was a glancing blow, otherwise the fight would have ended then and there. Instantly he lurched forward and clenched before the other could add the finis.h.i.+ng touch.

The two pushed about, Harrigan fiercely striving to break the younger man's hold. He was beginning to breathe hard besides. A little longer, and his blows would lack the proper steam. Finally Courtlandt broke away of his own accord. His head buzzed a little, but aside from that he had recovered. Harrigan pursued his tactics and rushed. But this time there was an offensive return. Courtlandt became the aggressor. There was no withstanding him. And Harrigan fairly saw the end; but with that indomitable pluck which had made him famous in the annals of the ring, he kept banging away. The swift cruel jabs here and there upon his body began to tell. Oh, for a minute's rest and a piece of lemon on his parched tongue! Suddenly Courtlandt rushed him tigerishly, landing a jab which closed Harrigan's right eye. Courtlandt dropped his hands, and stepped back. His glance traveled suggestively to Harrigan's feet. He was outside the ”ropes.”

”I beg your pardon, Mr. Harrigan, for losing my temper.”

”What's the odds? I lost mine. You win.” Harrigan was a true sportsman. He had no excuses to offer. He had dug the pit of humiliation with his own hands. He recognized this as one of two facts. The other was, that had Courtlandt extended himself, the battle would have lasted about one minute. It was gall and wormwood, but there you were.

”And now, you ask for explanations. Ask your daughter to make them.”

Courtlandt pulled off the gloves and got into his clothes. ”You may add, sir, that I shall never trouble her again with my unwelcome attentions. I leave for Milan in the morning.” Courtlandt left the field of victory without further comment.

”Well, what do you think of that?” mused Harrigan, as he stooped over to gather up the gloves. ”Any one would say that he was the injured party.

I'm in wrong on this deal somewhere. I'll ask Miss Nora a question or two.”

It was not so easy returning. He ran into his wife. He tried to dodge her, but without success.

”James, where did you get that black eye?” tragically.

”It's a daisy, ain't it, Molly?” pus.h.i.+ng past her into Nora's room and closing the door after him.

”Father!”

”That you, Nora?” blinking.

”Father, if you have been fighting with _him_, I'll never forgive you.”

”Forget it, Nora. I wasn't fighting. I only thought I was.”

He raised the lid of the trunk and cast in the gloves haphazard. And then he saw the paper which had fallen out. He picked it up and squinted at it, for he could not see very well. Nora was leaving the room in a temper.

”Going, Nora?”

”I am. And I advise you to have your dinner in your room.”

Alone, he turned on the light. It never occurred to him that he might be prying into some of Nora's private correspondence. He unfolded the parchment and held it under the light. For a long time he stared at the writing, which was in English, at the date, at the names. Then he quietly refolded it and put it away for future use, immediate future use.

”This is a great world,” he murmured, rubbing his ear tenderly.

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