k it open, delivering at the same instant a hook
that no man when giving a blow could hope to block. He caught Tony
coming in and that lent additional momentum to the blow which got Tony
on the side of the neck, over the artery, and it was as clean a
knock-out as could be given. They carried the Italian to a wrestling
mat, fanned and bathed his face, and when he came to and sat up, Siebold
was there with his ready tongue.

"He's too heavy for you. No fellow could hope to stand up to Sadler at
his own game. I told you so."

Gus saw Tony's real hurt and was incensed. "Oh, don't you believe that,"
he said to Tony. "Another time----"

"Huh, fellow! Maybe you think you could stand up to Sadler. I'd like to
see you, or anyone here, even the instructor." He glanced around. "Could
they, Mr. Gay?"

"Well, perhaps not. Sadler has the punch and you can't hurt him," said
the instructor, coming up. "Feel all right now, Sabaste?"

Nothing more was said about another bout, but the subject stirred the
crowd so that it could not die out entirely. Three or four days later
the instructor and Siebold entered the gym together, and stopped to
watch Gus punching the bag. Siebold had never seen anything quite so
snappy as that. Mr. Gay made some remarks.

"That fellow must have had some instructions under a strong teacher--
there's good material there! Say, look at the way he plays a tattoo
and swings, too, and gets away from it. Foot work, my boy--foot work!
You're good, Siebold, but we haven't anything like that in the school.
I had no idea of it."

"Shucks! All the same I'd like to see him swap cracks with Sadler," said
Siebold doggedly. Just at that instant Sadler came lumbering in with a
dozen other fellows at his heels.

"Better not start anything rough," cautioned Mr. Gay.

But Siebold paid no heed. He walked over to Gus and addressed him
roughly:

"Say, would you have the nerve to fight Sadler?"

"Fight? Fight? Why, man, I have no reason to. I haven't anything against
him." Gus was indignant. "And as to boxing bouts, I'm not in this game.
Too busy!"

"Shucks! One way to whitewash a little streak of yellow." This with a
sneer.

Suddenly the kindly smile on Gus's manly face faded out. He stepped
quickly in front of Siebold.

"You can't say that to me! I'll fight you here and now; bare knuckles if
you like."

Mr. Gay overheard the conversation and came back to the boys.

"None of that here," he said. "If you want to