love had opened afresh the half-healed cut on
his cheek; he was shaking his head as he waved aside the wet towel in
Ogden's hands.

"Man, but you're some bear for punishment!" Ogden chattered, strangely
weak himself beneath his belt. "If you only had a little speed--just a
little! Why, he sent over a dozen to your chin that ought to have laid
you away. But you're playing him right! You're working him, and if you
can manage to hang on you'll get him in the end. Just keep away--keep
away and let him wear himself out. But--oh, if you did have it. Just
one real punch!"

Young Denny continued to shake his head--continued to shake it
doggedly.

"Do--do you mean that that is as hard as he is likely to hit?" he
queried slowly. "Do you mean--he was really trying--hard?"

Ogden stopped urging the wet towel upon him and stood and gazed at him
with something close akin to awe in his eyes.

"Hard!" he echoed in a small voice. "Hard! How hard do you expect a
man to hit?"

"Then your plan was wrong," Young Denny told him. "Of course," he
hastened to soften that abrupt statement, "of course it would work all
right, only--only I'm not much good at that kind of fancy work. I--I
just have to wade right in, when I want to do any damage, because I'm
slow getting away from a man. I can't punch--not hard--when I'm
backing off. But now I aim to show you how hard I expect a man to hit,
just as soon as they ring that bell!"

Hogarty was leaning over Sutton in the opposite corner, frowning and
talking rapidly.

"What's the matter, Boots?" he demanded anxiously. "Haven't lost your
kick, have you?"

Sutton gazed contemplatively down at his gloved hands and up again
into his employer's face.

"Who'd you say that guy was?" he countered. "Where's he blowed in
from--again?"

"A rube--down from the hills he called it. Just some come-on,"
Hogarty repeated his former information, "who thinks because he's
cleaned up main street and licked the village blacksmith that
he's a world-beater. Why, Boots? You aren't worried, are you?"

The contemplative gleam in Sutton's eyes deepened.

"Because," he stated thoughtfully, "just because there's some
mistake--or--or he's made of brass. I--I hit him pretty hard, Flash--and
do you know what he done? Well, he blinked. He--blinked--at--me. I
never hit any man harder."

Hogarty's face had lost a little of its inscrutability. He flashed one
sharp glance across at Young Denny in the other corner as he s