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wit de guts to stay wit him--he's a fiend for punishment, Hurricane is; he jest

natchrly eats it.

If you're broke I'll give you your keep as long as you stay wit Pete an' don't get

cold feet, an' I'll fix up a mill for you now an' then so's you kin pull down a little

coin fer yourself. Are you game?"

"You know it," said Billy.

"All to the good then," said the professor gaily; "now you put on the mitts an' spell

Hurricane for a couple o' rounds."

Billy slipped his huge hands into the tight-fitting gloves.

"It's been more'n a year since I had these on," he said, "an' I may be a little slow

an' stale at first; but after I get warmed up I'll do better."

Cassidy grinned and winked at Hurricane. "He won't never get warmed up,"

Hurricane confided; "Pete'll knock his block off in about two minutes," and the

men settled back to watch the fun with ill-concealed amusement written upon

their faces.

What happened within the next few minutes in the stuffy little room of Professor

Cassidy's third-floor "gymnasium" marks an epoch in the professor's life--he still

talks of it, and doubtless shall until the Great Referee counts him out in the Last

Round.

The two men sparred for a moment, gaging one another. Then Battling Dago Pete

swung a vicious left that landed square on Billy's face. It was a blow that might

have felled an ox; but Billy only shook his head--it scarce seemed to jar him. Pete

had half lowered his hands as he recovered from the blow, so sure he was that it

would finish his new sparring partner, and now before he could regain his guard

the mucker tore into him like a whirlwind. That single blow to the face seemed to

have brought back to Billy Byrne all that he ever had known of the manly art of

self-defense.

Battling Dago Pete landed a few more before the fight was over, but as any old

fighter will tell you there is nothing more discouraging than to discover that your

most effective blows do not feeze your opponent, and only the knowledge of what

a defeat at the hands of a new sparring partner would mean to his future, kept

him plugging away at the hopeless task of attempting to knock out this mountain

of bone and muscle.

For a few minutes Billy Byrne played with his man, hitting him when and where

he would. He fought, crouching, much as Jeffries used to fight, and in his size

137

The Mucker