d an answer now. "Champ, I think it's a good thing this is your
last fight. You know too much. After this one you'll have a good strong
boy of your own and you can try some of this stuff you've been learning.
Milt knows you're no kid anymore. That's why he has to be careful with
you."

"I still have it, Benny. My speed, my punch, my timing--all good. There
were a dozen times in those last two fights I could have crossed a right
and gone home early."

"Two times, Frankie. Just two times. And them late in the fight. Milt
didn't think you had it, and I don't think you did either."

* * * * *

Milt, Frankie's master control, came down to the beach and strolled over
to join them. Milt had been a Five-Time Defender in the Welter division
before his fights ran out. Now he was skinny and sixty. His was the mind
that had directed every punch Frankie had ever thrown.

He studied the figure of Frankie lying on the sand. The
two-hundred-pound fighting machine was thirty years old. Milt winced
when he compared it to that of the twenty-two-year-old slugger they
would have to meet in a few hours.

Benny said "Hi," and ambled off.

"Well, boy, this one means a lot to both of us," Milt said.

"Sure," was all Frankie could answer.

"For you, the first Ten-Time Defender the heavyweight division has ever
produced. For me, The Hall of Boxing Fame."

"You want that pretty bad, don't you, Milt?"

"Yeah, I guess I do, Frankie, but not bad enough to win it the wrong
way."

Frankie's head jerked up. "What do you mean, the wrong way?"

Milt scowled and looked as though he wished he hadn't said that. He
turned his head and stared hard at his fighter. "There's something we
maybe ought to have talked about, Frankie."

"What's that?"

Milt struggled for words. "It's just--oh, hell! Forget it. Just forget I
said anything."

"You figure we win tonight?"

"I think maybe we will."

"You don't seem very sure. On points, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe on points." Milt turned his eyes back on Frankie's eager
face. "Frankie, boy--there's something about being a Ten-Time Defender
that's, well--different."

Milt took a deep breath and was evidently ready to tell Frankie exactly
what he meant. But Frankie broke in, his voice low and tense. "Milt--"

"Yes?"

"When I get in there tonight--turn me loose!"

Milt was startled at the words. "Release _control_?"

"Yeah--sure. I think I can take Nappy Gordon on my own