"You're justabout afeard of me, that's wot you are. You think I'll bust up your old farm and show myself a better man than you. You're afeard of me because I'm a younger man than you." "Ho, afeard of you, am I?--and because you're a youngster? I'll justabout show you wot a youngster's worth. A better man, are you?--Put up your fists, and we'll see who's the better man." Reuben began to take off his coat--young Realf drew back almost in disgust. "I'm not going to fight a man old enough to be my father," he said, flushing. "Ho, äun't you?--Come on, you puppy-dog, and see fur yourself if you need täake pity on my old age." He had flung off his coat, and squared up to Realf, who, seeing no alternative, began to strip. Peter interposed: "Let me täake him on, fäather. I'll show him a thing or two." Reuben turned on him savagely. "Stand clear!--who wants your tricks? I'm going to show him wot a man's worth--a man wot's had his beard longer than this puppy's bin in the warld." "But you're out of training." "I'm in training enough to whip boys. Stand clear!" Pete stood clear, as the two combatants closed. Neither knew much of the game. Realf had been born too late for boxing to have been considered a necessary part of his education, and Reuben had been taught in an old school--the school of Bendigo and Deaf Burke--mighty bashers, who put their confidence in their strength, despised finesse, and counted their victories in pints of blood. He fairly beat down on Realf, who was lithe enough generally to avoid him, but not experienced enough to do so as often as he might. Every time Reuben struck him, the floor seemed to rush up to his eyes, and the walls to sag, and the house to fill with smoke. Pete danced round them silently, for while his sympathies were with his father his sporting instincts bade him keep outwardly impartial. He was disgusted with their footwork, indeed their whole style outraged his bruising ideals; but it pleased him to see how much Reuben was the better man. They hardly ever clinched--on the other hand, there was much plunging and rushing. Reuben brought down Realf three times and Realf brought down Reuben once. It was noticeable that if the younger man fell more easily he also picked himself up more quickly. Between the rounds they leaned exhausted against the wall, Pete prowling about between them, longing to take his father on his knee, but still resolved to see fair play. It was not likely that the fight would be a long one, for both combatants were already winded. Realf, moreover, was bleeding from the nose, and Reuben's left eye was swollen. Once he caught a hit flush on the mouth which cut his nether lip in two, and, owing to his bad footwork, brought him down. But he was winning all the same.