His months of training had put the Bearcat in the pink of condition again. Babe had written him a few encouraging letters, and with the cheerful, easy-going Joe Malone as a companion, his life in the camp was quite happy, except that he missed Babe.

Charlie Yates had come up to the camp with a new boy he was training, and received the surprise of his life when he saw the Bearcat wade through his boxing partners, and then step out for a ten mile hike.

“What a great fighter I missed havin’ in him!” Charlie told himself, with a feeling of regret.

He and the Bearcat became friends again through the good-natured maneuvering of Joe Malone. Charlie still liked the kid, anyway.

Joe even persuaded Charlie to arrange a match for the Bearcat on his return. If he made good Charlie had other bouts in mind for him. He began to have real respect for the Bearcat, now that he had torn himself away from that no-good dame of his. Charlie had heard about Babe’s being with Money Johnson and, assuming the Bearcat had heard it too, thought the fighter was well out of her clutches.

The Bearcat was grateful to Charlie, and he returned to New York with fresh energy, and a determination to make good for Babe’s sake.

XXII THE HOUSE OF ALL NATIONS

MONEY JOHNSON bore no resentment toward those who had plotted his downfall. It was all in the racket. He had grabbed off too much to suit the other sporting interests in Harlem, so friends gave him the tip that he could expect trouble when he got out of stir. The opposition was sore that he was locked up for only three months. They had hoped for at least a year, confident that if he were away for that length of time, they could destroy his business and prestige in Harlem. But Johnson was a slick negro. He had lieutenants he could trust, who looked after his interests while he was in jail.

What really disturbed him most was the loss of his white woman. Three months without her were torture for him. He didn’t mind the jail so much. It was the thought of losing Babe that nearly drove him insane. Those three months dragged out like thirty years.

He was soon to learn about Babe. Willis, a friend of his, who was a waiter in the Harley Club, visited Johnson in his cell. After they had talked for a few minutes, Willis said:

“Money, Ah think Ah done see yo’ woman, las’ night.”

Money’s eyes flashed.

“Yo’ mean yo’ done see Babe?”

“Ah think so.”

“Tell me, man—tell me where yo’ see her?”

“Up at duh club. Ah was waitin’ on her—Ah knows dat pretty face o’ hers when Ah sees it.”

“Whut she doin’ dere? Who was she wit’?” Johnson cried, excitedly.