Montgomery stood half dazed, looking down at the huge, prostrate figure. He could hardly realize that it was indeed all over. He saw the referee motion towards him with his hand. He heard his name bellowed in triumph from every side. And then he was aware of some one rushing towards him; he caught a glimpse of a flushed face and an aureole of flying red hair, a gloveless fist struck him between the eyes, and he was on his back in the ring beside his antagonist, while a dozen of his supporters were endeavouring to secure the frantic Anastasia. He heard the angry shouting of the referee, the screaming of the furious woman, and the cries of the mob. Then something seemed to break like an over-stretched banjo-string, and he sank into the deep, deep, mist-girt abyss of unconsciousness.
The dressing was like a thing in a dream, and so was a vision of the Master with the grin of a bulldog upon his face, and his three teeth amiably protruded. He shook Montgomery heartily by the hand.
“I would have been rare pleased to shake thee by the throttle, lad, a short while syne,” said he. “But I bear no ill-feelin’ again’ thee. It was a rare poonch that brought me down—I have not had a better since my second fight wi’ Billy Edwards in ’89. Happen thou might think o’ goin’ further wi’ this business. If thou dost, and want a trainer, there’s not much inside t’ ropes as I don’t know. Or happen thou might like to try it wi’ me old style and bare knuckles. Thou hast but to write to t’ iron-works to find me.”
But Montgomery disclaimed any such ambition. A canvas bag with his share—one hundred and ninety sovereigns—was handed to him, of which he gave ten to the Master, who also received some share of the gate-money.
Then, with young Wilson escorting him on one side, Purvis on the other, and Fawcett carrying his bag behind, he went in triumph to his carriage, and drove amid a long roar, which lined the highway like a hedge for the seven miles, back to his starting-point.
“It’s the greatest thing I ever saw in my life. By George, it’s ripping!” cried Wilson, who had been left in a kind of ecstasy by the events of the day. “There’s a chap over Barnsley way who fancies himself a bit. Let us spring you on him, and let him see what he can make of you. We’ll put up a purse—won’t we, Purvis? You shall never want a backer.”
“At his weight,” said the publican, “I’m behind him, I am, for twenty rounds, and no age, country, or color barred.”
“So am I!” cried Fawcett; “middle-weight champion of the world, that’s what he is—here, in the same carriage with us.”
But Montgomery was not to be beguiled.
“No; I have my own work to do now.”
“And what may that be?”
“I’ll use this money to get my medical degree.”
“Well, we’ve plenty of doctors, but you’re the only man in the Riding that could smack the Croxley Master off his legs. However, I suppose you know your own business best. When you’re a doctor, you’d best come down into these parts, and you’ll always find a job waiting for you at the Wilson Coal-pits.”
Montgomery had returned by devious ways to the surgery. The horses were smoking at the door, and the doctor was just back from his long journey. Several patients had called in his absence, and he was in the worst of tempers.
“I suppose I should be glad that you have come back at all, Mr. Montgomery!” he snarled. “When next you elect to take a holiday, I trust, it will not be at so busy a time.”
“I am sorry, sir, that you should have been inconvenienced.”
“Yes, sir, I have been exceedingly inconvenienced.” Here, for the first time, he looked hard at the assistant. “Good heavens, Mr. Montgomery, what have you been doing with your left eye?”
It was where Anastasia had lodged her protest.
Montgomery laughed. “It is nothing, sir,” said he.
“And you have a livid mark under your jaw. It is, indeed, terrible that my representative should be going about in so disreputable a condition. How did you receive these injuries?”
“Well, sir, as you know, there was a little glove-fight to-day over at Croxley.”
“And you got mixed up with that brutal crowd?”
“I was rather mixed up with them.”
“And who assaulted you?”
“One of the fighters.”
“Which of them?”
“The Master of Croxley.”
“Good heavens! Perhaps you interfered with him?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I did a little.”
“Mr. Montgomery, in such a practice as mine, intimately associated as it is with the highest and most progressive elements of our small community, it is impossible——”
But just then the tentative bray of a cornet-player searching for his keynote jarred upon their ears, and an instant later the Wilson Colliery brass band was in full cry with, “See the Conquering Hero Comes,” outside the surgery window. There was a banner waving, and a shouting crowd of miners.
“What is it? What does it mean?” cried the angry doctor.
“It means, sir, that I have, in the only way which was open to me, earned the money which is necessary for my education. It is my duty, Doctor Oldacre, to warn you that I am about to return to the University, and that you should lose no time in appointing my successor.”
