Before the fight the bruiser said: "I'll surely kill that aleck dead! He thinks he has a chance with me! His gall is beautiful to see. His friends are betting quite a stack, and say that I cannot come back. I'm better now, I say right here, than ever in my great career; I'm sound and good in wind and limb, and I will put the lid on him. Just take it from me, take it straight; I'm fit to lick a hundredweight of wildcats, wolves or rattlesnakes; I'll whip him in a brace of shakes!" The fight was o'er; the bruiser sat, his head too large to fit his hat, his eyes bunged up, his teeth knocked in; he muttered, with a swollen grin: "Well, yes, he licked me, that blamed ape! But I was badly out of shape; I didn't train the way I should; my knees were stiff, my wind no good; I had lumbago and the gout—no wonder that he knocked me out! But just you wait ten years or more! I'm after that four-flusher's gore! When I have rested for a spell, and when my face is good and well, I'll spring a challenge good and hard, and whip him in his own back yard!"