He took off his overcoat and then his black Prince Albert coat and passed 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.

[Illustration:  “And then he landed A blow on wood’s nose”]

“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.”

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.”