At Sheen's request Mr Spence made no announcement of the fact thatWrykyn would be represented in the Light-Weights. It would be timeenough, Sheen felt, for the School to know that he was a boxer when hehad been down and shown what he could do. His appearance in his newrole would be the most surprising thing that had happened in the placefor years, and it would be a painful anti-climax if, after all theexcitement which would be caused by the discovery that he could use hishands, he were to be defeated in his first bout. Whereas, if hehappened to win, the announcement of his victory would be all the moreimpressive, coming unexpectedly. To himself he did not admit thepossibility of defeat. He had braced himself up for the ordeal, and herefused to acknowledge to himself that he might not come out of itwell. Besides, Joe Bevan continued to express hopeful opinions.
"Just you keep your head, sir." he said, "and you'll win. Lots of thesegentlemen, they're champions when they're practising, and you'd thinknothing wouldn't stop them when they get into the ring. But they getwild directly they begin, and forget everything they've been taught,and where are they then? Why, on the floor, waiting for the referee tocount them out."This picture might have encouraged Sheen more if he had not reflectedthat he was just as likely to fall into this error as were hisopponents.
"What you want to remember is to keep that guard up. Nothing can beatthat. And push out your left straight. The straight left rules theboxing world. And be earnest about it. Be as friendly as you likeafterwards, but while you're in the ring say to yourself, 'Well, it'syou or me', and don't be too kind.""I wish you could come down to second me, Joe," said Sheen.
"I'll have a jolly good try, sir," said Joe Bevan. "Let me see. You'llbe going down the night before--I can't come down then, but I'll tryand manage it by an early train on the day.""How about Francis?""Oh, Francis can look after himself for one day. He's not the sort ofboy to run wild if he's left alone for a few hours.""Then you think you can manage it?""Yes, sir. If I'm not there for your first fight, I shall come in timeto second you in the final.""If I get there," said Sheen.
"Good seconding's half the battle. These soldiers they give you atAldershot--well, they don't know the business, as the saying is. Theydon't look after their man, not like I could. I saw youngwhat's-his-name, of Rugby--Stevens: he was beaten in the final by agentleman from Harrow--I saw him fight there a couple of years ago.
After the first round he was leading--not by much, but still, he was apoint or two ahead. Well! He went to his corner and his seconds senthim up for the next round in the same state he'd got there in. Theyhadn't done a thing to him. Why, if I'd been in his corner I'd havetaken him and sponged him and sent him up again as fresh as he couldbe. You must have a good second if you're to win. When you're all ontop of your man, I don't say. But you get a young gentleman of your ownclass, just about as quick and strong as you are, and then you'll knowwhere the seconding comes in.""Then, for goodness' sake, don't make any mistake about coming down,"said Sheen.
"I'll be there, sir," said Joe Bevan.
* * * * *The Queen's Avenue Gymnasium at Aldershot is a roomy place, but it isalways crowded on the Public Schools' Day. Sisters and cousins andaunts of competitors flock there to see Tommy or Bobby perform, underthe impression, it is to be supposed, that he is about to take part ina pleasant frolic, a sort of merry parlour game. What their opinion isafter he emerges from a warm three rounds is not known. Then there aresoldiers in scores. Their views on boxing as a sport are crisp andeasily defined. What they want is Gore. Others of the spectators areOld Boys, come to see how the school can behave in an emergency, and tofind out whether there are still experts like Jones, who won theMiddles in '96 or Robinson, who was runner-up in the Feathers in thesame year; or whether, as they have darkly suspected for some time, theschool has Gone To The Dogs Since They Left.
The usual crowd was gathered in the seats round the ring when Sheencame out of the dressing-room and sat down in an obscure corner at theend of the barrier which divides the gymnasium into two parts on theseoccasions. He felt very lonely. Mr Spence and the school instructorwere watching the gymnastics, which had just started upon their lengthycourse. The Wrykyn pair were not expected to figure high on the listthis year. He could have joined Mr Spence, but, at the moment, he feltdisinclined for conversation. If he had been a more enthusiasticcricketer, he would have recognised the feeling as that which attacks abatsman before he goes to the wicket. It is not precisely funk. It israther a desire to accelerate the flight of Time, and get to businessquickly. All things come to him who waits, and among them is thatunpleasant sensation of a cold hand upon the portion of the body whichlies behind the third waistcoat button.
The boxing had begun with a bout between two feather-weights, bothobviously suffering from stage-fright. They were fighting in ascrambling and unscientific manner, which bore out Mr Bevan'sstatements on the subject of losing one's head. Sheen felt that bothwere capable of better things. In the second and third rounds thisproved to be the case and the contest came to an end amidst applause.
The next pair were light-weights, and Sheen settled himself to watchmore attentively. From these he would gather some indication of what hemight expect to find when he entered the ring. He would not have tofight for some time yet. In the drawing for numbers, which had takenplace in the dressing-room, he had picked a three. There would beanother light-weight battle before he was called upon. His opponent wasa Tonbridgian, who, from the glimpse Sheen caught of him, seemedmuscular. But he (Sheen) had the advantage in reach, and built on that.
After opening tamely, the light-weight bout had become vigorous in thesecond round, and both men had apparently forgotten that their rightarms had been given them by Nature for the purpose of guarding. Theywere going at it in hurricane fashion all over the ring. Sheen washorrified to feel symptoms of a return of that old sensation of panicwhich had caused him, on that dark day early in the term, to fleeAlbert and his wicked works. He set his teeth, and fought it down. Andafter a bad minute he was able to argue himself into a proper frame ofmind again. After all, that sort of thing looked much worse than itreally was. Half those blows, which seemed as if they must dotremendous damage, were probably hardly felt by their recipient. Hetold himself that Francis, and even the knife-and-boot boy, hit fullyas hard, or harder, and he had never minded them. At the end of thecontest he was once more looking forward to his entrance to the ringwith proper fortitude.
The fighting was going briskly forward now, sometimes good, sometimesmoderate, but always earnest, and he found himself contemplating,without undue excitement, the fact that at the end of the bout whichhad just begun, between middle-weights from St Paul's and Wellington,it would be his turn to perform. As luck would have it, he had not solong to wait as he had expected, for the Pauline, taking the lead afterthe first few exchanges, out-fought his man so completely that thereferee stopped the contest in the second round. Sheen got up from hiscorner and went to the dressing-room. The Tonbridgian was alreadythere. He took off his coat. Somebody crammed his hands into the glovesand from that moment the last trace of nervousness left him. Hetrembled with the excitement of the thing, and hoped sincerely that noone would notice it, and think that he was afraid.
Then, amidst a clapping of hands which sounded faint and far-off, hefollowed his opponent to the ring, and ducked under the ropes.
The referee consulted a paper which he held, and announced the names.
"R. D. Sheen, Wrykyn College."Sheen wriggled his fingers right into the gloves, and thought of JoeBevan. What had Joe said? Keep that guard up. The straight left. Keepthat guard--the straight left. Keep that--"A. W. Bird, Tonbridge School."There was a fresh outburst of applause. The Tonbridgian had shown upwell in the competition of the previous year, and the crowd welcomedhim as an old friend.
Keep that guard up--straight left. Straight left--guard up.
"Seconds out of the ring."Guard up. Not too high. Straight left. It beats the world. What an agethat man was calling Time. Guard up. Straight--"Time," said the referee.
Sheen, filled with a great calm, walked out of his corner and shookhands with his opponent.
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