"What's the matter, gentlemen?" asked Mr. Strout.

"Well," said Wood, "I told this young man what you said he said, and he says you're a liar."

"Well," said Strout pompously, "I know that he said it and I have witnesses to prove it. When you settle with him for calling you a jacka.s.s I'll settle with him for calling me a liar."

"Take your coat off, Mr. Sawyer, and get ready. I won't keep you waitin'

but a few moments," said Bob.

A jeering laugh went up from the crowd. Quincy, turning, saw Hiram.

"Here, Hiram," said he, "hold my things."

He took off his overcoat and then his black Prince Albert coat and pa.s.sed them to Hiram. Then he removed his hat, which he also handed to Hiram.

Turning to Wood he said, "Come right out here, Mr. Wood; here is a place where the sun has kindly removed the snow and we can get a good footing."

Wood followed him, and the crowd formed a ring about them.

"Now, Mr. Wood, or perhaps I should say Bob Wood for short, put up your hands."

Bob put them up in defiance of all rules governing boxing. This was enough for Quincy; he had sized up his man and determined to make the most of his opportunity.

"Mr. Wood," he said politely, "before I hit you I am going to tell you just exactly where I am going to strike, so you can't blame me for anything that may happen. I shall commence on your right eye."

Wood's face grew livid; he made a rush at Quincy as though he would fall on him and crush him. Quincy easily eluded him, and when Wood made his second rush at him he parried a right-hander, and before Wood could recover, he struck him a square blow full on his right eye. They faced each other again.

"Now, Mr. Wood," said Quincy, "I see you have a watch in your vest pocket. Is it an open-faced watch?"

"S'posin' you find out," said Wood, glaring at Quincy with his left eye, his right one being closed up.

"Well, then," remarked Quincy, "you will be obliged to have it repaired, for I am going to hit you just where that watch is and it may injure it."

Wood was more wary this time and Quincy was more scientific. He gave Wood a left-hander in the region of the heart which staggered him.

They faced each other for the third time.

"I regret the necessity this time, but I will be obliged to strike you full in the face and in my excitement may hit your nose."

It required all of Quincy's dexterity to avoid the wild rushes and savage thrusts made by Wood. But Quincy understood every one of the boxer's secrets and was as light and agile on his feet as a cat. It was three minutes at least before Quincy got the desired opening, and then he landed a blow on Wood's nose that sent him flat upon his back.

"That's enough," cried the crowd, and several friends led Wood to a seat on the platform.

Quincy turned to Strout. "Now, Mr. Strout, I am at your service."

"No, sir," said Strout, "I am willing to fight a gentleman, but I don't fight with no professional prize fighter like you." Turning to the crowd: "I know all about this fellow. He is no lawyer at all, he is a regular prize fighter, and down in Boston he is known by the name of Billy Shanks."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AND THEN HE LANDED A BLOW ON WOOD'S NOSE"]

Quincy smiled. Turning to the crowd he said, "The statement just made by Mr. Strout is like his statement to Mr. Wood. The first was a lie, the second is a lie, and the man who uttered them is a liar. Good morning, gentlemen."

Quincy went to Hiram, who helped him on with his coats. They walked along together. After they turned the corner and got out of sight of the grocery store, Hiram said:

"Geewhilikins! What a smasher you gave him. I thought you said you didn't know nothin' about fightin'."

"I don't know much," responded Quincy. "There are a dozen men in Boston who could do to me just exactly what I did to Bob Wood."

CHAPTER IX.

MR. SAWYER CALLS ON MISS PUTNAM.

Quincy had a double purpose in calling on Lindy; he actually wished to see her, for they had not met since the concert, but his princ.i.p.al wish was to meet a real old-fashioned country couple. To be sure, Deacon Mason and his wife often dropped into the vernacular, but the Deacon was a very dignified old gentleman and his wife was not a great talker. What he desired was to find one of the old-fashioned style of country women, with a tongue hung in the middle and running at both ends. His wish was to be gratified.

When he clanged the old bra.s.s knocker on the door, Samanthy Green answered the call.

"Is Miss Putnam at home?" asked Quincy politely.

"No, she ain't," said Samanthy, "but Mr. and Mrs. Putnam is. They're allus to hum. They don't go nowheres from one year's end to t'other."

"I would like to see them," said Quincy.

"Yes, sir," said Samanthy, "walk right in."

She threw open the door of the sitting-room. "Here's a gentleman that wants to see you, Mas' Putnam. Leastwise he asked for Lindy fust."

Samanthy left the room, slamming the door after her.

"My name is Sawyer," said Quincy, addressing the old lady and gentleman who were seated in rocking chairs. "I met your daughter at the concert given at the Town Hall New-Year's night."

Mrs. Putnam said, "Glad to see ye, Mr. Sawyer; have a chair."

As Quincy laid his hand upon the chair, the old gentleman called out in a voice that would have startled a bull of Bashan, "What's his name, Heppy?"

Mrs. Putnam answered in a shrill voice with an edge like a knife, "Sawyer."

"Sawyer!" yelled the man. "Any relation to Jim Sawyer that got drunk, beat his wife, starved his children, and finally ended up in the town Poorhouse?"

Quincy shook his head and replied, "I think not. I don't live here; I live in Boston."

"Du tell," said Mrs. Putnam. "How long you been here?"

Quincy replied that he arrived two days after Christmas.

"Where be you stoppin'?" asked Mrs. Putnam.