"'We were for passing on to the next room, where the dancing and piano-playing were; but there'd been the noise from the room we'd just left of a bunch of men coming in off the street and stopping just long enough for a round of drinks, and now they were coming through the swinging doors; and 'Did you see 'm hit 'm that last one?' one was saying, and 'Two rounds,' says another--'not enough to exercise Alf.' "In front of the crowd was a whale of a fellow in a red sweater and a little cap atop of his head, and beside him was our short-change bartender friend and behind him a dozen men, among 'em the same half a dozen tough lads we'd already seen out front before. "The big prize-fighter swings himself across the floor as if nobody else was living just then except to wait on him. 'A mug of your best, Daisy dear,' he says to the barmaid; and, hearing that, the skipper whips around with a sour face, but he takes another look at the bruiser and whips back again. "We could see the couples floating by the glass doors opening into the next room, and that's where Dan and myself were bound, and where we'd have got to, only the bartender's voice stops us. 'Say, you,' he calls out, 'how'd you like to put the gloves on and have a go with little Alf here?' Dan didn't stop. And '_You!_' yells the bartender--'I mean you, you big Gloucesterm'n!' "Dan turned then. 'What's that?' "'How'd you like to put on the gloves with Alf here? There's a nice little bit of a ring across the way.' The big fellow himself wasn't even looking at Dan. He was elbowing the skipper to one side to get closer to the barmaid. The skipper was looking riled. "'Why should I?' asks Dan. 'I've no quarrel with him.' "'No, you big stiff; but if it was me, you would. You're Dan Magee of Skibbaree, are you? Why don't you leap into the air now and knock your heels together and say that to Alf? Or does his being the Soorey Giant make a difference?' "'Hang you and your Soorey Giants!' says Dan. "'Alf! Alf! Did y' hear 'im?' hollers the bartender. And at that a man, a fair-sized man, too, jumps into the middle of the floor and says: 'Don't you ago botherin' wi' him, Alfie--I'll take care of 'im.' He has a red sweater, too, and a little cap at the top of his head, and he takes a couple of fancy steps and spars with his hands, and by and by steps in and gives Dan a poke. And Dan he squints down at this lad and says, 'What's ailing you, man?' and the boxing chap he dashes in and pokes Dan again, and everybody laughs. But before they were done laughing, Dan, who'd never had a boxing-glove on in his life, he slaps out with his left paw and ketches the fancy boxer one on the side of his chin, and he doesn't stop falling backward till he fetches up between our skipper and the Soorey Giant.