Amid the stream of Corinthians and fighting-men who were thronging into
the room I had caught a glimpse of the sturdy figure and broad,
good-humoured face of Champion Harrison. The sight of him was like a
whiff of South Down air coming into that low-roofed, oil-smelling room,
and I ran forward to shake him by the hand.
“Why, Master Rodney—or I should say Mr. Stone, I suppose—you’ve changed
out of all knowledge. I can’t hardly believe that it was really you that
used to come down to blow the bellows when Boy Jim and I were at the
anvil. Well, you are fine, to be sure!”
“What’s the news of Friar’s Oak?” I asked eagerly.
“Your father was down to chat with me, Master Rodney, and he tells me
that the war is going to break out again, and that he hopes to see you
here in London before many days are past; for he is coming up to see Lord
Nelson and to make inquiry about a ship. Your mother is well, and I saw
her in church on Sunday.”
“And Boy Jim?”
Champion Harrison’s good-humoured face clouded over.
“He’d set his heart very much on comin’ here to-night, but there were
reasons why I didn’t wish him to, and so there’s a shadow betwixt us.
It’s the first that ever was, and I feel it, Master Rodney. Between
ourselves, I have very good reason to wish him to stay with me, and I am
sure that, with his high spirit and his ideas, he would never settle down
again after once he had a taste o’ London. I left him behind me with
enough work to keep him busy until I get back to him.”
A tall and beautifully proportioned man, very elegantly dressed, was
strolling towards us. He stared in surprise and held out his hand to my
companion.
“Why, Jack Harrison!” he cried. “This is a resurrection. Where in the
world did you come from?”
“Glad to see you, Jackson,” said my companion. “You look as well and as
young as ever.”
“Thank you, yes. I resigned the belt when I could get no one to fight me
for it, and I took to teaching.”
“I’m doing smith’s work down Sussex way.”
“I’ve often wondered why you never had a shy at my belt. I tell you
honestly, between man and man, I’m very glad you didn’t.”
“Well, it’s real good of you to say that, Jackson. I might ha’ done it,
perhaps, but the old woman was against it. She’s been a good wife to me
and I can’t go against her. But I feel a bit lonesome here, for these
boys are since my time.”
“You could do some of them over now,” said Jackson, feeling my friend’s
upper arm. “No better bit of stuff was ever seen in a twenty-four foot
ring. It would be a rare treat to see you take some of these young ones
on. Won’t you let me spring you on them?”
Harrison’s eyes glistened at the idea, but he shook his head.
“It won’t do, Jackson. My old woman holds my promise. That’s Belcher,
ain’t it—the good lookin’ young chap with the flash coat?”
“Yes, that’s Jem. You’ve not seen him! He’s a jewel.”
“So I’ve heard. Who’s the youngster beside him? He looks a tidy chap.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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