# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3817/Mr. Punch's Holiday Stories

MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY STORIES.
III.—The Fight of the Century.
(Concluded.)
[Synopsis of Preceding Instalment:—The great boxing boom is at its height. A fight arranged between Smasher Mike and the famous heavyweight champion, Mauler Mills, is arousing intense excitement throughout the country. Nothing whatever is known of the Smasher, and the betting is therefore 100 to 1 against him. Young Lord Tamerton is at this time in desperate financial straits. His bosom friend, Ralph Wonderson, who is in love with his sister, the beautiful Lady Margaret Tamerton, prevails upon him to wager heavily on Smasher Mike, and undertakes to put him in the way of obtaining a loan of £5,000 for this purpose. Their conversation is overheard by an agent of Sir Ernest Scrivener, alias Marmaduke Moorsdyke, who is the mortal enemy of Wonderson and is plotting to get Lady Margaret Tamerton in his power.]
The vast area of Corinthia was crammed with eager spectators, whose eyes were concentrated with feverish intensity on the raised platform in the centre of the hall. In the seats near the ring, for each of which a hundred guineas had been charged, sat the cream of Britain's aristocracy, including Lord Tamerton and Lady Margaret Tamerton, for whom two tickets in a plain envelope had been left that morning.
At last the preliminaries came to an end and Smasher Mike, clad in a claret-coloured dressing-gown with yellow facings, crawled through the ropes and went to his corner. As he raised his face to the lights a murmur of amazement ran through the hall.
"It's Ralph Wonderson!" Lady Margaret gripped her brother's arm till the perspiration stood out on his forehead.
"It's Ralph Wonderson!" The ​whisper passed from lip to lip, merging presently into a burst of cheering as Mauler Mills scrambled up to the platform, wearing an electric-blue dressing-gown with green facings and pink sash.
Ralph sat motionless in his corner, watching his gigantic adversary with a pleasant smile and softly whistling the air of a popular song. At length the referee leisurely entered the ring. As he did so, Ralph gave a violent start and Lady Margaret gripped her brother's arm till his teeth chattered. The referee was not the popular Algernon Mittens, as had been announced, but Sir Ernest Scrivener!
Lord Tamerton stared up at the ring with ashen lips. With such an official in charge nothing but a miracle could save Ralph Wonderson from being dis-qualified in the first round. The House of Tamerton was more utterly ruined than ever.
But in thirty seconds Ralph, trained in many sports to meet all emergencies, had summed up the situation and decided upon his course of action.
The gong sounded and the two pugilists advanced warily towards each other. Suddenly Ralph lashed out a terrific right which, as he intended, missed the Mauler by a foot. Unable, apparently, to retain his balance, he swung completely round with the impetus of the blow, and his clenched fist landed squarely upon the referee's jaw. Sir Ernest shot high over the ropes and crashed down on the Dowager Duchess of Cumbersea, whence he re-bounded with terrible force into the arms of the Marquis of Meltington.
After a brief delay all three were removed to the hospital.
The fight, under a new referee, was in its twentieth round. Not a sound could be heard beyond the shuffling of the pugilists' feet and the thud of fist on flesh.
Feinting with his left, the Mauler clinched heavily with his right, but Ralph foiled the attack with a clever half-nelson. Again Mills swung his right, and again Ralph parried the blow, this time by sending his left to the funny-bone and thus paralysing the arm. He then dashed in and uppercut his opponent severely on the occiput. Mauler Mills staggered to the ropes, to which he clung frantically in order to preserve his balance.
A savage roar went up from the crowd, roused now to a pitch of frenzied excitement. "Now you've got him! Finish him! Put him out!" they shouted.
But Ralph, chivalrous as always, drew back, bowed formally to his opponent and quietly awaited his recovery. Presently, after a courteous enquiry and an assurance from the Mauler that he was quite ready, the pair exchanged a warm handshake and renewed their combat.
Taking a deep breath, Ralph advanced with cat-like tread and flashing eyes upon his adversary. Knowing from painful experience what to expect, the latter circled cautiously away, covering his face with his hands. But Ralph, realising that time was short, determined not to be baffled. Combining the agility of the chamois with the ponderous strength of the hippopotamus, he crouched low and sprang like a tiger through the air upon the unhappy Mauler, striking him full on the solar plexus. White to the lips, the Mauler fell squirming to the floor, while Ralph nonchalantly adjusted a lock of hair which had floated loose.
"One—two—three…" the voice of the referee was like the voice of inexorable Fate… "four—fire—six…" Lady Margaret gripped her brother's arm till his hair stood on end .."seven—eight…" The Countess of Snecks fainted with a loud shriek…"nine—Out"!
The great fight was won. The House of Tamerton was saved.
Clad in his claret-coloured dressing-gown, the new champion pressed his fiancée against the yellow facings and stroked her fair hair fondly with his boxing-gloves.
"My little wife!" he whispered.
And the vast area of Corinthia rang with emotional cheers.