"Are the gloves all right," called Cokeson (whose father owned
racehorses, was a pillar of the National Sporting Club, and deeply
interested in the welfare of a certain sporting newspaper).

"No fault can be found with Warren's gloves," said Shanner, coming
over to Dam.

"There's nothing wrong with the gloves here," added Delorme, after
visiting Harberth's corner.

This was the less remarkable in that there were no gloves whatsoever.

Presumably the fiction of a "friendly boxing contest" was to be
stoutly maintained. The crowd of delighted boys laughed.

"Then come here, both of you," said Cokeson.

The combatants complied.

"Don't hold and hit. Don't butt nor trip. Don't clinch. Don't use
knee, elbow, nor shoulder. When I call 'Break away,' break without
hitting. If you do any of these things you will be jolly well
disqualified. Fight fair and God have mercy on your souls." To Dam it
seemed that the advice was superfluous--and of God's mercy on his soul
he had had experience.

Returning to their corners, the two stripped to the waist and sat
ready, arrayed in shorts and gymnasium shoes.