You see, Hodgson is lazy, and he wanted some
one to challenge the right to represent the school, or I don't fancy
he'd have put in enough good work to stand much chance against the Eton
man. Therefore I stepped into the breach, and, by sweating him, have
made Hodgson from a very fair boxer into a good one--good, but nothing
super-excellent."
"Then who's been lying low all this time?"
"Acton."
"_Acton?_" said I, in utter astonishment. "Why, didn't our dear Theodore
dress him down once for losing his temper in the gym?"
"He did, my boy, and Acton repaid the compliment to-night--with
interest. He opened our eyes for us. I'm telling the bare truth when I
say that he simply played with Theodore, and at the third round he as
good as knocked him out."
I stared into the fire for a minute or two, thinking out this news.
"Eureka!" said I. "I've found it!"
"What?"
"The reason Acton crops up here. He cannot forget an injury. Hodgson
humbled him once, and so Acton must needs take away from Theodore his
own peculiar pet ambition, which is to represent St. Amory's at
Aldershot in the Heavy."
"I wish," said Phil, gloomily, "Biffen's Beauty's schemes always worked
out so well for the school's honour. He'll represent St. Amory's without
a doubt."
"Is he so very good, then?"
"Super-excellent, old fellow! Prodigious!" said Phil, with genuine
admiration. "We'll all sleep with both ears on the pillow when the
telegram comes from Aldershot.
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