"Now gents--and ladies," says he, "this is a five-round go for a stay, between Professor Shorty McCabe, ex-light-weight champeen of the world, and another gent what goes on the cards as an unknown. It's catch weights, an' the winner pulls down the whole basket of greens. There ain't goin' to be no hittin' after the clinch, and if there's any fouls, you leave it to me. Don't come buttin' in. It's been put up to me to keep time an' referee this mix-up, and I don't want no help. You bottle-holders stay in your corners till the count's over. Now are you ready? Then go!" There was a squeal or two when we sheds our bath-robes and steps to the middle, and I guesses that the ladies was gettin' their first view of ring clothes. But I wasn't lookin' anywhere but at Jarvis. And say, he would have made a hit anywhere. He had just paddin' enough to round him out well, and not so much as to make him look ladyfied. Course, he was a good many pounds over-weight for the job he'd tackled, but he'd have looked mighty well on a poster. Honest, it seemed a shame to have to muss him. Jarvis wa'n't there to stand in the lime-light, though. He went right to work as though he meant business. I'd kind of figured on lettin' him have his own way for a couple of rounds, takin' it easy, an' jockeyin' him into making a showin'; but the first thing I knows he lands a right swing that near lifts me off my feet, an' Swifty sings out to me to stop my kiddin'. "Beg pardon," says Jarvis; "but I'm after that fifty." "If I'd had a putty jaw, you'd got it then," says I. "Here's the twin to that." But my swipe didn't reach him by an inch, and the best I could do was to swap half-arm jolts until I'd got steadied down again. Well say, I wasn't more'n an hour findin' out that I couldn't monkey much with Jarvis. He knew how to let his weight follow the glove, and he blocked as pretty as if he was punchin' the bag. "You didn't learn that in no college," says I, fiddlin' for a place to plant my left. "You're quite right," says he, and bores in like a snow-plough. We steamed up a little in the second; but it was an even break at that, barrin' the fact that I played more for the wind, and had Jarvis breathin' fast when Slattery called quits. Gorilla Quigley was onto his job, though, an' he gives him good advice while he was wavin' the towel. I could hear him coachin' Jarvis to save his breath and make me do the rushin'. "Don't waste no time on that cast-iron mug of his," says Gorilla. "All you gotter do is cover up an' stay the limit."