The Definite Object Part 36

"Ah--that 'e were! Joe were better 'n the best--only don't let 'im 'ear me say so, 'e 'd be that puffed up--Lord! But n.o.body could beat Joe--black, yaller or white; they all tried danged 'ard, but Joe were a world-beater--y' see, I trained Joe! An' to-day 'e 's as good as ever 'e was. Y' see, Joe's allus lived clean, sir, consequent Joe's sound, wind an' limb. Joe could go back an' beat all these fancy bruisers and stringy young champs to-day--if 'e only would--but don't let 'im 'ear me say so."

"You're fond of Joe, Old Un?"

"An' why for not, sir--s' long as 'e don't know it? Didn't 'e look arter poor old me when 'e 'ad money, an' when 'e lost everything, didn't 'e look arter me still? An' now 'e 's your shuvver, don' 'e keep a roof over me poor old 'ead like a son--don't 'e give me the run o' jour garridge an' let me watch 'im spar wi' you an' your gentlemen friends?

Ain't 'e the best an' truest-'earted man as ever drawed breath? Ah, a king o' men is Joe, in the ring an' out, sir--only never let 'im 'ear me say so--'e 'd be that proud, Lord! there'd be no livin' wi' 'im--sh, 'ere 'e be, sir."

Joe had laid by his chauffeur's garb and looked even bigger and grimmer in flannels and sweater.

"Ho you, Joe," cried the old man, scowling, "did ye bring me that 'bacca?"

"S'posin' I didn't?" demanded Joe.

"Then dang ye--twice!"

"An' s'posin' I did?"

"Then--give it 'ere!"

"An' that's his grat.i.tood, sir!" growled Joe, shaking his head and giving the packet into the old man's clutching fingers. "A unnat'ral old bag-o'-bones, that's what 'e is, sir!"

"Bones!" croaked the Old Un viciously. "Bag-o'-bones am I? Yah--look at ye'self--pork, that's what you are, all run to pork an' blubber an' fat, Joe, me pore lad--"

"Fat!" growled Joe. "Y' know I ain't fat; y' know I'm as good a man as ever I was--look at that, you old sarpent!" And he smote himself with mighty fist--a blow to fell an ox. "Fat, am I?"

"As--lard!" nodded the old man, filling half an inch of blackened clay pipe with trembling fingers, "as a 'og--"

"Now my crumbs--" began Joe fiercely.

"You're flabby an' soft, me pore lad," grinned the old man. "Flabby as a babby an' soft as a woman an' fat as a--"

Joe reached out very suddenly, and picking up the old man, armchair and all, shook him to and fro until he croaked for mercy.

"Lor' gorramighty!" he panted, as Joe set him down again.

"Fat, am I?" demanded Joe, scowling.

"Fat as a 'og--fat as forty bloomin' 'ogs!" cried the old man vindictively. "An' what's more, your wind's all gone--you couldn't go five rounds wi' a good 'un!"

"Couldn't I?"

"No!" shrieked the Old Un, "you'd be 'anging on an' blowing like a grampus!"

"Should I?"

"Ah--like a grampus!"

"Right-o!" nodded Joe, turning away, "no jam for _your_ tea to-night."

"Eh, what--what, would ye rob a pore old man of 'is jam, Joe--a pore afflicted old cove as is dependent on ye 'and an' fut, Joe--a pore old gaffer as you've just shook up to that degree as 'is pore old liver is a-bobbin' about in 'is innards like a jelly. Joe, ye couldn't be so 'eartless!"

"Ah, but I can!" nodded Joe. "An' if ye give me any more lip, it'll be no sugar in ye tea--"

"No sugar!" wailed the Old Un, then clenching a trembling old fist, he shook it in Joe's scowling face. "Then dang ye--three times!" he cried.

"What's the old song say?

"'Dang the man with three times three Who in 'is 'eathen rage Can 'arm a 'armless man like me Who's 'ead is bowed wi' age!'

"An' there's for ye. Now listen again:

"'Some men is this an' some is that, But 'ere's a truth I know: A fightin' cove who's run to fat Is bound t' puff an' blow!'

"An' there's for ye again!"

Saying which, the Old Un nodded ferociously and proceeded to light his fragmentary pipe. During this colloquy Ravenslee had laid by his shabby clothes and now appeared clad and shod for the ring.

"Sir," said Joe, taking a set of gloves from a locker, "if you are ready to box a round or so--"

"Why, no," answered Ravenslee, "I don't want to box to-day, Joe."

"Eh?" said Joe, staring, "not?"

"I want to fight, Joe."

"To--fight, sir?" repeated Joe.

"Fight?" cried the Old Un rapturously. "Oh, music--sweet music t' me old ears! Fight? Oh, j'yful words! What's the old song say?

""Appy is the first as goes To black a eye or punch a nose!'"

"Get the m.u.f.flers on, Joe; get 'em on an' don't stand staring like a fool!"

"But, sir," said Joe, his mild eyes kindling, "d' ye mean as you want--the real thing?"

"To-day," said Ravenslee, "instead of boxing a round or two with Joe Madden, my chauffeur and mechanic, I want to see how long I can stand up to Joe Madden, undefeated champion of the world."

Joe's lean cheek flushed and he looked Ravenslee over with eyes of yearning; noted the thin flanks and slender legs that showed speed, the breadth of shoulder and long arms that spoke strength, and the deep, arched chest that showed endurance; Joe looked and sighed and shook his head.

"Sir," said he, "I honour and respect you to that degree as it would be a joy to fight such a man as you and a rare privilege t' knock you down--but, sir, if I was to knock ye down--"

"You'd earn a five-dollar bill."

"Five dollars--for knockin' you down, sir?"

"Every time!" nodded Ravenslee.

"But Lord, sir--"

"Shut up, Joe, shut up," snarled the Old Un, hopping out of the armchair. "Don't gape like a peris.h.i.+n' fish; come on up-stairs an' knock the Guv'nor down like 'e tells ye--an' 'arves on the money, mind; it was me as taught ye all you know or ever will, so 'arves on the money, Joe, 'arves on the money. Come on, Joe--d'j 'ear?"