This was not a friendly spar. It was business. The first move
was made by Walton, who feinted with his right and dashed in to fight
at close quarters. It was not a convincing feint. At any rate, it did
not deceive Kennedy. He countered with his left, and swung his right
at the body with all the force he could put into the hit. Walton went
back a pace, sparred for a moment, then came in again, hitting
heavily. Kennedy's counter missed its mark this time. He just stopped
a round sweep of Walton's right, ducked to avoid a similar effort of
his left, and they came together in a clinch.
In a properly regulated glove-fight, the referee, on observing the
principals clinch, says, "Break away there, break away," in a sad,
reproachful voice, and the fighters separate without demur, being very
much alive to the fact that, as far as that contest is concerned,
their destinies are in his hands, and that any bad behaviour in the
ring will lose them the victory. But in an impromptu turn-up like this
one, the combatants show a tendency to ignore the rules so carefully
mapped out by the present Marquess of Queensberry's grandfather, and
revert to the conditions of warfare under which Cribb and Spring won
their battles. Kennedy and Walton, having clinched, proceeded to
wrestle up and down the room, while Jimmy Silver looked on from his
eminence in pained surprise at the sight of two men, who knew the
rules of the ring, so far forgetting themselves.
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