For some time Harrigan jabbed and swung and upper-cut; often he reached
his opponent's body, but never his face. It worried him a little to find
that he could not stir Courtlandt more than two or three feet. Courtlandt
never followed up any advantage, thus making Harrigan force the fighting,
which was rather to his liking. But presently it began to enter his mind
convincingly that apart from the initial blow, the younger man was working
wholly on the defensive. As if he were afraid he might hurt him! This
served to make the old fellow furious. He bored in right and left, left
and right, and Courtlandt gave way, step by step until he was so close to
the line that he could see it from the corner of his eye. This glance,
swift as it was, came near to being his undoing. Harrigan caught him with
a terrible right on the jaw. It was a glancing blow, otherwise the fight
would have ended then and there. Instantly he lurched forward and clenched
before the other could add the finishing touch.
The two pushed about, Harrigan fiercely striving to break the younger
man's hold. He was beginning to breathe hard besides. A little longer, and
his blows would lack the proper steam. Finally Courtlandt broke away of
his own accord. His head buzzed a little, but aside from that he had
recovered. Harrigan pursued his tactics and rushed. But this time there
was an offensive return. Courtlandt became the aggressor. There was no
withstanding him. And Harrigan fairly saw the end; but with that
indomitable pluck which had made him famous in the annals of the ring, he
kept banging away. The swift cruel jabs here and there upon his body began
to tell. Oh, for a minute's rest and a piece of lemon on his parched
tongue! Suddenly Courtlandt rushed him tigerishly, landing a jab which
closed Harrigan's right eye. Courtlandt dropped his hands, and stepped
back. His glance traveled suggestively to Harrigan's feet. He was outside
the "ropes."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Harrigan, for losing my temper."
"What's the odds? I lost mine. You win." Harrigan was a true sportsman. He
had no excuses to offer. He had dug the pit of humiliation with his own
hands. He recognized this as one of two facts. The other was, that had
Courtlandt extended himself, the battle would have lasted about one
minute. It was gall and wormwood, but there you were.
"And now, you ask for explanations. Ask your daughter to make them."
Courtlandt pulled off the gloves and got into his clothes. "You may add,
sir, that I shall never trouble her again with my unwelcome attentions. I
leave for Milan in the morning." Courtlandt left the field of victory
without further comment.
"Well, what do you think of that?" mused Harrigan, as he stooped over to
gather up the gloves. "Any one would say that he was the injured party.
I'm in wrong on this deal somewhere. I'll ask Miss Nora a question or
two."