back of any man he gets his arms round—and the rest's a mixture of boxing, ju-jitsu, and la savate, which, as you know, is kicking. Yes, he's a dirty tighter, though it's precious rarely that it comes to what you could call a fight. What I'm waiting for is the most unholy and colossal turn-up that's due to come between him and Buck sooner or later. It's bound to come, and it'll be a scrap worth seeing. Buck has been a professional glove-man among other things, and he holds less conservative views than I do, as to what is permissible against an opponent who kicks, clinches, and butts. … No, fighting's apt to be rather a dirty business here, and, short of a proper duel, a case of stand face to face and do all you can with all Nature's weapons, not forgetting your teeth. … 'C'est la Légion.'"
"How disgustin'!" murmured the young man. "Will this bird trouble me?"
"He will," answered the other, "but I'll take a hand, and then Buck will too. He hates Luigi like poison, and frequently remarks that he has it in for him when the time comes, and Luigi isn't over anxious to tackle him, though he hankers. Doesn't understand him, nor like the look in his eye. Buck is afraid of angering Carmelita if he 'beats up' Rivoli. … Yes, I dare say Buck and I can put the gentle Neapolitan off between us."
Reginald Rupert stiffened.
"I beg that you will in no way interfere," he observed coldly. "I should most strongly resent it."
The heart of the old soldier warmed to the youth, as he contrasted his slim boyish grace with the mighty strength, natural and developed, of the professional
