Would the soldier rise?
Would he take the tips of those fingers from the floor, stand up again and face his man?
Or was he beaten?
"Five, six, seven, eight"-- the referee counted, his voice rising above the clamour of voices.

The audience had risen, men stood upon their benches, cries of expostulation were shouted to the soldier.
"Nine, ten," counted the referee, and the fight was over.

The soldier had been counted out.
Shere Ali was upon his feet like the rest of the enthusiasts.
"Well done!" he cried.

"Well done!" and as the Jew came back to his corner Shere Ali shook him excitedly by the hand.

The sign had been given; the subject race had beaten the soldier.