_Round_ 7.--Much refreshed by about six minutes' rest, Rice and
Sutherland began again, and Sutherland's father watched the fight with a
calm and sporting interest. He was a clean-shaved man of large size
about the shoulders; but he had a pale, sad-looking face and very thin
lips, and one ear larger than the other. Sutherland had to withstand a
wild rush from Rice and hit Rice while he backed away from him, which
pleased his father. But Rice was not stopped, and he got close to
Sutherland and hit him very hard on the body until they fell into each
other's arms. And Sutherland's father said, "Break! Break!" and then
apologized to Travers major, who was referee. They parted, and Rice,
evidently much refreshed, went after Sutherland and hit him about three
or four times; then Sutherland hit him once. Then it was time.
_Round_ 8.--Sutherland's father certainly seemed to have brought
Sutherland bad luck, for in the next round Rice held his own, and though
knocked down at the beginning of the round, got up and went on. And
Sutherland's father asked me how many rounds had been fought, and was
very much interested in my notes. And, owing to him reading them, I
could not describe this round. At the end both were tired, one not more
than the other.
_Round_ 9.--Rice, feeling he had still a chance, fought as well as ever
in this round, and Sutherland was clearly not taking anything like his
old interest in the fight. He kept looking mournfully at his father and
didn't seem to care where Rice hit him, and I could see that his father
was a good deal disappointed. Rice had much the best of this round, and
Sutherland bled again, though Rice did also.
_Round_ 10.--It began all right, though both could hardly keep up their
arms, and then, without a blow, suddenly Sutherland shook his head and
extended his hand to Rice, and Rice shook it and the battle was over.
That was the end of what Blades wrote, but much remains to be told, and
the fight, which was extraordinary in the beginning, turned out far more
extraordinary at the end. I couldn't believe my senses when Sutherland
gave in, and more could his father, and then came out the truth, which
was sad in a way, but really much sadder for me than Sutherland.
Because what I had thought was a right down glorious victory, well worth
the pint of blood I had shed and the tooth I had lost, turned out to be
what you might really call very little better than winning on a foul.
After the fight, Sutherland hastened to his father and asked him about
Sutherland major and heard he was all right and going strong. Then he
actually began to blub; and his father rotted him and asked him what the
dickens was the matter with him, and how he had given in to a chap sizes
smaller than himself, and then Sutherland, between moments of undoubted
weeping explained.
He said:
"I never saw you in black clothes before, because at home you always
wear tweeds with squares and a red tie; and seeing you in pitch black,
of course I thought Tom was dead. Till then I was winning, and Rice
knows I was; but after you came and I felt positive Tom was dead----"
Then Sutherland was quite unable to go on, and his father asked him
however he thought he could have stood there grinning at a kid fight
under such sad circumstances. Then he led Sutherland away and explained
that he happened to have been attending a funeral, near Plymouth, of
some old lawyer friend; and he thought he would kill two birds with one
stone, as they say, and come over and have a look at Sutherland and tell
him they'd heard good news of his brother and that his mother had bucked
up again.
Well, there it was, and much worse for me than Sutherland, because his
grief was turned into joy; but my joy was turned into grief--winning in
that footling way, which didn't amount to winning at all. In fact it
was mere dust, and enough to make me weep myself, only that was a thing
I had never been known to do, and never shall in this world, or the
next.
However, Sutherland minor was jolly sporting about it, and thoroughly
understood how it must look from my point of view. He even offered to
come to Ireland in the Christmas Holidays, if my people would ask him,
and fight me again on my own ground. He couldn't say more, but though I
gladly accepted the idea of his coming to Ireland, which was a very
happy thought on his part, I told him frankly that I should not fight
him again at present.
"We may meet some happy day in the Amateur Championships, Sutherland," I
said, "if I get large enough and you don't get too large."
"No, Rice," he answered; "for I shall be a heavyweight when I'm twenty,
and you at best can never hope to be anything but a welter; but I hope
we'll second each other many a time and oft."