self to be placated by the group. Everybody sympathized with him.
Rivera stood alone.

"Look here, you little fool," Kelly took up the argument. "You're
nobody. We know what you've been doing the last few months--putting away
little local fighters. But Danny is class. His next fight after this
will be for the championship. And you're unknown. Nobody ever heard of
you out of Los Angeles."

"They will," Rivera answered with a shrug, "after this fight."

"You think for a second you can lick me?" Danny blurted in.

Rivera nodded.

"Oh, come; listen to reason," Kelly pleaded. "Think of the advertising."

"I want the money," was Rivera's answer.

"You couldn't win from me in a thousand years," Danny assured him.

"Then what are you holdin' out for?" Rivera countered. "If the money's
that easy, why don't you go after it?"

"I will, so help me!" Danny cried with abrupt conviction. "I'll beat you
to death in the ring, my boy--you monkeyin' with me this way. Make
out the articles, Kelly. Winner take all. Play it up in the sportin'
columns. Tell 'em it's a grudge fight. I'll show this fresh kid a few."

Kelly's secretary had begun to write, when Danny interrupted.

"Hold on!" He turned to Rivera.

"Weights?"

"Ringside," came the answer.

"Not on your life, Fresh Kid. If winner takes all, we weigh in at ten
A.M."

"And winner takes all?" Rivera queried.

Danny nodded. That settled it. He would enter the ring in his full
ripeness of strength.

"Weigh in at ten," Rivera said.

The secretary's pen went on scratching.

"It means five pounds," Roberts complained to Rivera.

"You've given too much away. You've thrown the fight right there.
Danny'll lick you sure. He'll be as strong as a bull. You're a fool. You
ain't got the chance of a dewdrop in hell."

Rivera's answer was a calculated look of hatred. Even this Gringo he
despised, and him had he found the whitest Gringo of them all.

IV

Barely noticed was Rivera as he entered the ring. Only a very slight and
very scattering ripple of half-hearted hand-clapping greeted him. The
house did not believe in him. He was the lamb led to slaughter at the
hands of the great Danny. Besides, the house was disappointed. It had
expected a rushing battle between Danny Ward and Billy Carthey, and
here it must put up with this poor little tyro. Still further, it had
manifested its disapproval of the change by betting two, and even three,
to one on Danny. And where a bett