and had a glimpse of her small white teeth. She was laughing. This is
just an impression of a momentary glimpse, but it means much. In this
situation is the psychology of the real Marcia. Jerry, her man-god,
her brute-god, lay prone at her feet a quivering mass of bruised
flesh, beaten and broken mind and body, and she could smile.

Tingling with rage at this incident, which I thanked God Jerry had
not seen, I fought my way behind Jack to the aisle to the
dressing-room, whither willing hands had carried the boy. All around
us we heard the encomiums of the crowd.

"Luck," one said, "mere luck."

"It's all in the game. But Benham's the better man."

"Lucky for Clancy that Jerry mixed it. Could 'a cut the Sailor to
pieces."

"Some fight--what?"

"The best in years. The boy's a wonder."

All this from hardened followers of the ring. The door to the
dressing-room was jammed and a force of policemen was keeping back the
people. Our anxious queries were passed along to the doorway.

"He's coming around all right," said the sergeant. "Now move along
there, gents. No admittance here."

But Jack and I awaited our chance and when Sagorski poked his head out
of the door he saw us and the sergeant let us through.

It was a very crestfallen group that greeted us. Flynn and the negro,
Monroe, were working over Jerry, who lay on a cot-bed near the window.
He had recovered consciousness and even as we entered he raised his
head wearily and looked around. His face was battered and bruised, and
his smile as he greeted us partook of the character of his injuries.
But he was whole and I hoped not badly hurt. Youth and strength, the
best of medicines, were already reviving him.

"Well, Roger," he muttered dully, "I'm licked."

"Luck," I said laconically. Jack Ballard had clasped his big
congested hand, "Proud of you, Jerry, old boy! You ought to have won.
Why the Devil did you let him coax you into close quarters?"

"I thought--I could stand--what he could," grunted Jerry.

"Not the lucky blow. He had it. If you'd stood him off--"

"I came here to fight--" said Jerry sinking back on his mattress
wearily.

I think his mind was beginning to work slowly around to the real
meaning of his defeat, not the mere failure of his science and skill,
but the failure of his body and mind as against the mind and body of a
trained brute, whom he had set his heart on conquering. I knew as no
one else there knew what the victory meant to