d and thirty-five pounds."

John went back to his corner. He rested his gloved hands on the ropes
and scraped the soles of his shoes into a box of rosin shoved beneath
his feet by the twisted nose youth, who had a towel thrown over his
shoulder and a pail of water near him.

Blake pulled himself up beside him.

"Remember, John, keep cool and keep jabbing that left in his face," he
said.

John looked out at the crowd. A thought of his mother flashed into his
head and he seemed to see her face in the blue haze of smoke.

"He'll try rushing you--he thinks he's another Joe Rivers," said Blake.
"Wait for a chance to soak him."

The gong sounded and, whirling around, he went to the center of the
ring. The Battler came dancing out to meet him. They touched gloves for
a handshake and each took a step back. The Battler moved his gloves in
quick little circles and the noise from the crowd stopped. John forgot
everything else, the fight was on.

The Battler feinted, swaying his body from side to side, and came at
him. He shot out his left hand, jabbing at the swarthy face of the
Mexican. His fist struck only the air and the Battler, his lips drawn
back, his eyes blazing, crashed into him.

A fist pounded into his stomach and another ripped into his face. He
heard a wild shout from the crowd and the Mexican jumped back, smiling.
A trickle of blood dropped to his cheek from a cut over his eye. He
heard the Battler's seconds shout to their man to "tear into" him. He
watched, his left extended, his right close to his body.

The Battler rushed again, swaying from the hips. John's left fist found
its mark. He jabbed--once, twice, three times--and lashed out with his
right. The blow glanced off the Mexican's shoulders and they clinched.
He felt the Battler's strength in that clinch and he realized it was
more than his. The referee called "Break!" and they pushed away from
each other.

He must keep his head. The Mexican was fast; he pounced like a panther.
Blake's warning came back to him--"keep cool and wait." That was it,
wait, wait for a chance to land a blow that would end the fight.

He shot out his left again as the Battler came at him. It missed and the
strength he put behind it carried his head forward. Like a flash the
Mexican's right crashed to his jaw. John stumbled to his knees. The
referee was over him.

"One--two--three--four--five--six----"

He felt his head slowly clearing. What a punch that Mexican had! He