uous. "The--? Then
you used him," indicating savagely the entrance at the back, "for a duck
to uncover?" Steele nodded. "And you're the one who's been so long at my
heels?" Rage caused the hot blood to suffuse the man's face. "I'll burke
you for that."

John Steele did not stir; for an instant his look, confident, assured,
seemed to keep the other back. "How? With the lead, or--"

The fellow lifted his hairy fists. "Those are all I--"

"In that case--" Steele took the weapon, on which his hand had rested,
from his pocket; rising with alacrity he placed it on a rickety stand
behind him. "You have me a little outclassed; about seventeen stone, I
should take it; barely turn thirteen, myself. However," tossing his coat
in the corner, "you look a little soft; hardly up to what you were when
you got the belt for the heavy-weight championship. Do you remember? The
'Frisco Pet went against you; but he was only a low, ignorant sailor and
had let himself get out of form. You beat him, beat him," John Steele's
eyes glittered; he touched the other on the arm, "though he fought
seventeen good rounds! You stamped the heart out of him, Tom."

The red-headed giant's arms fell to his side. "How do you--"

"I was there!" An odd smile crossed Steele's determined lips. "Lost a
little money on that battle. Recall the fourteenth round? He nearly had
you; but you played safe in the fifteenth, and then--you sent him
down--down," John Steele's voice died away. "It was a long time before
he got up," he added, almost absently.

The listener's face had become a study; perplexity mingled with other
conflicting emotions. "You know all that--?"

"And all the rest! How for you the fascination of the road became
greater than that of the ring; how the old wildness would crop out; how
the highway drew you, until--"

"See here, what's your little game? Straight now; quick! You come here,
without the police, why?"

John Steele's reply was to the point; he stated exactly what he wanted
and what he meant that the other should give him. As the fellow heard,
he breathed harder; he held himself in with difficulty.

"And so that's what you've come for, Mister?" he said, a hoarse guffaw
falling from the coarse lips. John Steele answered quietly. "And you
think there is any chance of your getting it? May I be asking," with an
evil grin, "how you expect to make me, Tom Rogers," bringing down his
great fist, "do your bidding?"

"In the first place by as