We had been out to the grounds practicing until nearly nightfall and on the way home we stepped into a German saloon on the corner for the purpose of refreshing the inner man and washing the dust out of our throats.

In some way the conversation turned on the doings of various fighters and I expressed myself pretty freely concerning their merits and demerits, for having taken boxing lessons, I was naturally anxious to set myself up as an authority on matters pugilistic.
Just as we were in the midst of the argument a fresh policeman happened along and "chipped into the game" with the remark that if there was any fighting to be done he would himself take a hand in it.
That was my chance.

For what had I taken boxing lessons unless I could at least do a policeman?
"Come on!" I yelled and then I smashed him.

He was not the only policeman on the beat, however.

There were others--in fact, several of them, and they clubbed me good and plenty, finally leading me away with the nippers on.
Arriving at the police station, and a pretty tough-looking object I was, as you may imagine, I immediately sent for the President of the club, who, as good luck would have it, was also a Police Commissioner.