the other would make a quick feint or
move, and the other would spring back with the agility of a
dancing-master.

Suddenly the financier thought he saw an opening, and let go his left,
but was short, and received a counter in return which sounded all over
the place; then they went at it hammer and tongs and kept the Referee
very busy separating them, and making them fight fair. Questionable
prize-ring methods were resorted to by both men, and the knowledge shown
by these amateurs of the little unfair tricks of the professional
prize-fighter was astonishing. The bank clerk took especial pains to
stick his thumb in his opponent's eye whenever they clinched, and the
compounder of drugs used his head and elbow in a way which is frowned
upon by advocates of fair play.

The men were fighting hard and fast when the round ended. Every man in
the crowd was on his feet yelling like a hyena, as they went to their
corners. Referee Watkins walked to the side of the ring, and raising
his hand to enjoin silence, stood waiting for the uproar to subside. At
last, when he could be heard, he addressed the crowd as follows:

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to stop this fight, but I must do it. These men
are supposed to be fightin' for the Amatoor Champeenship of the
Territory. Whether this is a put-up job or not, I do not know, but I do
know that the Prescott man is a professional pug, lately arrived from
Australia. I suspected him from the first. From the way he acted I was
pretty blamed sure he was no drug clerk and my friend here, Jim Sweeney,
swears he knows him, and that he was called the 'Ballarat Boy' when he
saw him fight in Australia, some seven months ago. I can't let this
thing go on, and have honest men lose their money. I am not dead sure in
my mind that the other man isn't a ringer; he is a damned sight too good
for an amatoor; but that cuts no ice. This fight stops right now. It's
a draw, and all bets are off."

There was a tremendous row, but the pugilists were hurried off to their
respective dressing-rooms, and the crowd slowly left the building. On
the steps outside, Johnson, the chairman of the Prescott Athletic Club,
met Smith, and, going up to him, he offered him his hand.

"Smith," said he, "I want to tell you how pained I am that the affair
ended as it did. You, of course, do not for a moment suspect that any of
us knew our man was a professional. How he could deceive us I cannot
understand. Why, I was never more fooled