It was the first direct question which had been asked him. He had stood in the midst of them like a horse at a fair, and he was just beginning to wonder whether he was more angry or amused. “I am just eleven stone,” said he. “I said that he was a welter weight.” “But suppose you was trained?” said the publican. “Wot then?” “I am always in training.” “In a manner of speakin’, no doubt, he _is_ always in trainin’,” remarked the horse-breaker. “But trainin’ for everyday work ain’t the same as trainin’ with a trainer; and I dare bet, with all respec’ to your opinion, Mr. Wilson, that there’s half a stone of tallow on him at this minute.” The young Cantab put his fingers on the assistant’s upper arm, then with his other hand on his wrist, he bent the forearm sharply, and felt the biceps, as round and hard as a cricket-ball, spring up under his fingers. “Feel that!” said he. The publican and horse-breaker felt it with an air of reverence. “Good lad! He’ll do yet!” cried Purvis. “Gentlemen,” said Montgomery, “I think that you will acknowledge that I have been very patient with you. I have listened to all that you have to say about my personal appearance, and now I must really beg that you will have the goodness to tell me what is the matter.” They all sat down in their serious, business-like way. “That’s easy done, Mr. Montgomery,” said the fat-voiced publican. “But before sayin’ anything we had to wait and see whether, in a way of speakin’, there was any need for us to say anything at all. Mr. Wilson thinks there is. Mr. Fawcett, who has the same right to his opinion, bein’ also a backer and one o’ the committee, thinks the other way.” “I thought him too light built, and I think so now,” said the horse-breaker, still tapping his prominent teeth with the metal head of his riding-whip. “But happen he may pull through, and he’s a fine-made, buirdly young chap, so if you mean to back him, Mr. Wilson----” “Which I do.” “And you, Purvis?” “I ain’t one to go back, Fawcett.” “Well, I’ll stan’ to my share of the purse.” “And well I knew you would,” said Purvis, “for it would be somethin’ new to find Isaac Fawcett as a spoil-sport. Well, then, we will make up the hundred for the stake among us, and the fight stands--always supposin’ the young man is willin’.” “Excuse all this rot, Mr. Montgomery,” said the University man, in a genial voice. “We’ve begun at the wrong end, I know, but we’ll soon straighten it out, and I hope that you will see your way to falling in with our views. In the first place, you remember the man whom you knocked out this morning? He is Barton--the famous Ted Barton.” “I’m sure, sir, you may well be proud to have outed him in one round,” said the publican. “Why, it took Morris, the ten-stone-six champion, a deal more trouble than that before he put Barton to sleep. You’ve done a fine performance, sir, and happen you’ll do a finer, if you give yourself the chance.”