THE FIGHT

My name is Rice, and there was only one thing I hated about the War, and even that I had to stop hating, because of England. My first feeling was the War had come too soon, and that if it had only been four years later, I should have been there. But, saying this to Tracey, he pointed out that, from England's point of view, it was lucky the War had come when it did, because every year was making the Germans stronger, while we went gaily down the hill reducing our Navy and our Army too. So it was a jolly good thing the Great War hadn't waited till I went into the Army. In fact, in four years, by all accounts, there mightn't have been any army to go into.

"No doubt you'd have been a host in yourself, Rice," said Tracey in his comical way, meaning a joke, which I easily saw; "but, all the same, as we had to fight Germany, the sooner we did it the better."

So I gave up hating the sad fact of not being there, though it was extra rough on me, because many people seemed to think it was going to be the last war on earth; and if that was so, my occupation was gone, and I might just as well not have been born, except for the simple and rather tame pleasure of being alive. But what's the good of that, if you're not going to do anything worth mentioning from the cradle to the grave, as the saying is?

As far as mere fighting went, I did all I could at Merivale, and, after seven regular fights, got to be c.o.c.k of the Lower School. And in ordinary times I should have been c.o.c.k of the whole school; but, curiously enough, there was one chap of very unusual fighting ability at Merivale when I was there, and he was rightly regarded as c.o.c.k of the school in the science of fighting.

It happened, also, that he and I were tremendous chums--such chums as are seldom seen--for we had similar ideas on all subjects and never differed even on the subject of the boxing art. In fact we only differed because I was going into the Navy and Sutherland minor was going into the Law. He had no taste for soldiering, like his brother, Sutherland major; though great genius for boxing, in which he took after his father, and as his father was in the law and wanted him to go into it, he resolved to obey.

But to me the law seemed a feeble profession, and I often tried to dissuade him from it.

Sutherland minor was sixteen and a half and tall; I was fifteen, and three inches shorter. He had better biceps than me and a longer reach, and he said I had a better punch than him, but less science.

After my third fight, he always let me second him in his fights; but he only had two before this particularly interesting fight I am going to mention; and one was against Blades, which he won after six rounds by excellent science and far superior footwork to Blades; and the other was against a chap called Pengelly, who only came for one term and gave himself frightful airs because he was a Cornishman. But I shouldn't think Cornwall had much use for him.

One day Sutherland said that the Cornish might be very good at catching pilchards and digging up tin, but they didn't seem much good at enlisting in Kitchener's Army. And Pengelly said there was a reason for that, though he refused to tell us what the reason was. Then he got into a fearful bate, and, little knowing the truth about Sutherland, challenged him to fight; which, of course Sutherland instantly agreed to. Pengelly was very big and strong, and if he had been able to hit Sutherland as often as he wanted to, the fight might have been interesting, but, having no science whatever, he was useless against Sutherland. By sheer strength he stuck to it for eight rounds, during which time he got a fair doing and Sutherland was hardly marked; but then, though by no means all in, Pengelly realized that he wasn't going to get a knuckle on Sutherland and so he gave up.

He wasn't a bad chap really, though rather foolish about Cornwall, and he even said to me deliberately that a Cornishman was as good as an Irishman, which showed, if anything, that he was weak in his head. And after his fight with Sutherland, we asked him again what the reason was that Cornwall was so slack at enlisting, and he said that the truth was that half of all Cornish chaps go into the Navy, which, owing to Cornwall being almost surrounded by sea, they prefer. But whether that's true, or only a piffling excuse, I don't know.

Anyway, when it came to counting up the most famous men Cornwall ever produced, he could only mention Sir Humphry Davy, who invented the safety-lamp for miners, which was undoubtedly all right in its way, and "Q," who wrote _Dead Man's Rock_, and was knighted for doing so; and n.o.body ever deserved it more. But that was all, whereas, when it came to Ireland, of course, I could count up thousands of the greatest heroes in creation, including Mr. Redmond, who has just got Home Rule for us after fearful obstacles.

But I never fought Pengelly; there wasn't time. For he only had one term at Merivale, and then, I believe, went to Canada suddenly, to an uncle there.

After that began the curious affair between me and Sutherland. But as it was remarkable in every way and will never be forgotten by our families, I may mention them.

In the first place, Sutherland's mother was a chronical invalid. I said it must be very difficult to love a person who lived in bed and could never be any use out of doors, or ride to hounds, or anything; and he said that it made no difference and that he was accustomed to it, because his mother had always been an utter crock ever since he knew her, and even at her best, when she was feeling unusually fit, she only changed her bed for a sofa in his father's study. Apparently she was just as keen about him as my mother was about me, and though she didn't much care to hear about his fights, she tried to understand the beauty of them like his father did. But naturally this father was more to Sutherland than the mother could be; because his father had been amateur middle-weight champion of England in his time, and held the cup for three years, and had been runner-up twice also. He was, therefore, a very great boxer and fighter, and Sutherland had been taught by his father, which accounted for his genius at it and his style, which was very finished. He would undoubtedly have been a "pro" if he had been in another walk of life; but as it was, he fully intended to do as well as his father had done in the amateur boxing world, though, as he was growing very rapidly and was also a great eater, it looked as if he would end by being a heavy-weight, which his father never was; though, as Sutherland told me, his father had beaten a few good heavy-weights in his time, though he never touched twelve stone in his boxing days.

Sutherland major, by the way, had just left Merivale when the War broke out, and he instantly went into the O.T.C.'s and soon became a second lieutenant and went to France.

This father of Sutherland was a lawyer, and Sutherland regretted to say that the War had done him harm as, owing to it apparently, people were not going to law nearly so much as usual. Still he thought, after the War, he might find a great improvement. He was a lawyer of the sort called a barrister, and wore a wig and gown and pleaded for criminals before the judges and juries on the Western Circuit, often getting them off when it looked jolly bad for them--so Sutherland said.

But my father was quite different, being a gentleman at large, and funnily enough, owing to the War, he made the first money he had ever made in his life, for he had a great knowledge of horses, and the War Office, hearing of this, let him go out and choose and buy horses for it, which he willingly did, and for his trouble he got the enormous sum of a guinea a day!

My mother sent me a sovereign of my father's earnings and told me to keep it and bore a hole in it and put it on my watch-chain, and be proud of it; but this I did not do, because a sovereign is a sovereign, and I simply couldn't see a good sovereign wasting its time, so to speak, on my watch-chain.

Then one day, walking as usual with Sutherland on the way to a footer match in which we were both playing, both being in the first "soccer"

team, him at right back and me at right half, we got talking about a fight I rather hoped to have with Briggs. And Sutherland was trying to think of a _casus belli_ which, in English, means a reason for the fight. But, knowing Briggs, he said no _casus belli_ would ever arise; and I said in that case, if Briggs were willing, we might fight for a purse, if anybody would subscribe one.

And then Sutherland reminded me that I should become a "pro," and Briggs also, if that were done.

He said:

"Briggs wouldn't fight just for the sake of fighting, and as you and he are very good friends, and there's no 'needle' in it, it looks difficult."

Then we talked, and then he happened to say--about fighting in general and weights and so on:

"You might just as well think of licking him"--speaking of Hutchings, who had gone to the Front--"as you might of licking me."

"Of course," I said; "it would be absurd."

That was the whole conversation, and I forgot it while the match was on, and, in fact, it didn't come back to me till I went to bed that night; and then it fairly kept me awake, and I was fearfully sorry I'd said it would be absurd for me to think of licking Sutherland. In fact I got sorrier and sorrier, and then I wondered why the d.i.c.kens Sutherland thought it was such a mad idea my licking him; and before I went to sleep I felt, in a way, rather sick with Sutherland for having such a poor opinion of me.

In the morning the feeling was still there, and he noticed I was a bit off and asked me if I was all right, and I said I was.

But it weighed fearfully, and I fairly got to hate myself in about two days for having said the idea of my licking Sutherland was absurd. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less absurd it seemed. I knew he was heavier and had a longer reach and was older and more scientific; but he himself had said that I had a fine punch; and if you've got that, you never know what may happen; and many an unlikely thing has come off in the ring owing to unexpected smacks landing at the right moment in the right place.

After a good deal of hard thinking and going down about four in my form, which landed me at the bottom, I felt I must speak to Sutherland, or I should burst.

So when he asked me, for the thousandth time, what was the matter and if anybody had scored off me, or anything, I said:

"Look here, Sutherland, you remember that while going to the footer match last week, you said I might just as well think of licking you as of licking Hutchings?"

And he said:

"Yes, I remember."

And I said:

"I told you it was absurd, didn't I?"

"You did--naturally," answered Sutherland.

"Well," I said, "I was wrong--it wasn't in the least natural for me to say that, and there's nothing absurd about it. It's been on my mind ever since. And now I see it wasn't absurd."

"What wasn't absurd?" asked Sutherland. "The idea of your licking Hutchings, or the idea of your licking me?"

"The idea of my licking you," I said firmly.

For a moment Sutherland was quite silent.

"D'you really think so?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "After considering it quietly--in bed and in chapel and at many other times--I can't see anything absurd about it."

"In fact, Rice, you think you might have a chance against me?" suggested Sutherland.

"I don't say that it would be much of a chance," I told him. "Probably you'd do me, because you're a lot cleverer and more scientific; but when I said 'absurd,' I went too far."

Sutherland considered.

"You're quite right," he admitted. "You might get over a lucky one.

It's very unlikely, but you might. Therefore there would be nothing absurd about our fighting, and I oughtn't to have suggested there was.