It's twenty rounds, two-ounce gloves,
Queensberry rules, and a decision on points if you fight to the finish."
For a moment the absurdity of the thing drove every other thought out of
Montgomery's head. But then there came a sudden revulsion. A hundred
pounds!--all he wanted to complete his education was lying there ready
to his hand, if only that hand were strong enough to pick it up. He had
thought bitterly that morning that there was no market for his strength,
but here was one where his muscle might earn more in an hour than his
brains in a year. But a chill of doubt came over him. "How can I fight
for the coal-pits?" said he. "I am not connected with them."
"Eh, lad, but thou art!" cried old Purvis. "We've got it down in
writin', and it's clear enough 'Anyone connected with the coal-pits.'
Doctor Oldacre is the coal-pit club doctor; thou art his assistant.
What more can they want?"
"Yes, that's right enough," said the Cantab. "It would be a very
sporting thing of you, Mr. Montgomery, if you would come to our help
when we are in such a hole. Of course, you might not like to take the
hundred pounds; but I have no doubt that, in the case of your winning,
we could arrange that it should take the form of a watch or piece of
plate, or any other shape which might suggest itself to you.
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