"
The groom, he shook his head, but kept looking at me so sorry-like,
that I begun to get a bit sad myself. He seemed like he couldn't bear
to leave off a-patting of me, and he says, speaking low just like he
would to a man-folk, "Well, good-luck to you, little pup," which I
thought so civil of him, that I reached up and licked his hand. I
don't do that to many men. And the Master, he knew I didn't, and took
on dreadful.
"What 'ave you got on the back of your hand?" says he, jumping up.
"Soap!" says the groom, quick as a rat. "That's more than you've got
on yours. Do you want to smell of it?" and he sticks his fist under
the Master's nose. But the pals pushed in between 'em.
"He tried to poison the Kid!" shouts the Master.
"Oh, one fight at a time," says the referee. "Get into the ring,
Jerry. We're waiting." So we went into the ring.
I never could just remember what did happen in that ring. He give me
no time to spring. He fell on me like a horse. I couldn't keep my
feet against him, and though, as I saw, he could get his hold when he
liked, he wanted to chew me over a bit first. I was wondering if
they'd be able to pry him off me, when, in the third round, he took
his hold; and I began to drown, just as I did when I fell into the
river off the Red C slip.
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