The White Feather

and their evenings in the old oak parlour, where a picture in boxing costume of Mr Joe Bevan, whose brother was the landlord of the inn, gazed austerely down on t

been converted into a gymnasium for the use of mine host's brother. Thither he brought pugilistic aspirants who wished to be trained for various contests, and it was the boast of the "Blue Boar" that it had never turned ou

and after half an hour's work found himself opposite

t must have been discovered. He had reached the landing-stage in safety, but he had not felt comfortable until he was well out of sight of the town. It was fortunate

e landlord, who was an enlarged and coloured edition of his brother. From the o

t the door

football. To the left, suspended from a beam, was an enormous leather bolster. On the floor, underneath a table bearing several pairs of boxing-gloves, a skipping-rope, and some wooden dumb-bells, was something that looked like a dozen Association footballs rolled into one. All the rest of the room, a space some few yards square, was bare of

thin an inch of his nose, and tapped him caressingly on the waistcoat. Just as the shower was at its heaviest his assailant darted away again, side-stepped an imaginary blow, ducked another, and

evan, reproachfully. "This is a young gen

oke-take it in spirit which is

ssure him that he h

" said Mr Bevan, "and then have a tu

he

, and I'll show you wher

all clothes with him. He ha

Getting on prime, he is. Fit to fig

e doing whe

. It teaches you to get about quick. You try it whe

rrupting you in the middle

to rub him down, and give him his shower

o the gymnasium, Sheen found Francis in a chair,

uired Francis affably, l

to a flood of conversation. He, it appeared, had always been one for dargs. Owned two. Answering to the names of Tim and Tom. Beggars for

. He added that for a brother dog-lover he did not mind stretching a point, so that, if ever Sheen wanted a couple of rounds any day, he, Francis, would see that he got them. This offer, it may be mentioned, Sheen accepted with gratitude, and the extra practice he acquired

ian had passed those preliminary st

lts. A boxing instructor needs three qualities-skill, sympathy, and enthusiasm. Joe Bevan had all three, particularly enthusiasm. His heart was in his work, and he carried Sheen with him. "Beautiful, sir, beautiful," he kept saying, as he guarded the blows; and Sheen, though too clever to be wholly deceived by the praise, for he knew perfectly well that his efforts up to the present had been anything but beautiful, was neve

and he felt the gentle pressure of Joe Bevan's glove less frequently. At no stage of a pupil's education did Joe Bevan hit him really hard, and in the first few lessons he could

flap. Put it in with some weight behind it." He was also fond of mentioning that extrac

sson, feeling hotter than h

condition," commented Mr Be

whole, satisfied with himself. He was brilliant at work, and would certainly get a scholarship at Oxford or Cambridge when the time came; and he had specialised in work to the

cs, that the happy mean was the thing at which to strive. And for the future he meant to aim at

nd heavy. By throwing this-the medicine-ball, as they call it in the profession-at Joe Bevan, and cat

Bevan. "Have a good rub down tonight, or you

k I shall be any g

r. But remember wha

aulting

h, with your hand, thus, but use all gently.' That's what you've got to remember in bo

felt that he had advanced another step. He was not foolish enough to believe that he