The days passed rapidly in a final spurt of intensive training. But his mind was none too clear, as he was uneasy about Babe, wondering what would happen if they could no longer continue their luxurious living. He had doubts. And they are very bad for a fighter.

The night of the fight arrived. Madison Square Garden was packed to the rafters. The ovation he received as he stepped into the ring was like crashes of thunder. The sports writers looked at him and whispered among themselves. They wondered what ailed him. He didn’t look so good. In fact, all through his training they had thought something was wrong. His opponent was in prime condition. After the second round, the question went around the arena: “What is the matter with the Bearcat tonight?”

The fans received their answer when at the end of the fifteen rounds the decision was made against him.

Only the final bell had saved him from collapsing in that last round. Only sheer nerve had kept him on his feet.

The Bearcat had lost his chance for the championship!

XI TRUE COLORS

CHARLIE beat the wall of the Bearcat’s dressing room in futile rage. He almost foamed at the mouth. All his hopes had vanished like smoke tonight. And all because of a woman.

He watched the Bearcat in dreadful silence while the latter was being rubbed down on the table, and when the work was finished he ordered the trainer and seconds to go.

Buck, the trainer, and the seconds had been as kind to Bearcat as they could. They tried to comfort him with words of encouragement which they were unable to make ring true. When they were gone, Charlie, who was pacing furiously up and down the room, stopped in front of the Bearcat, who was making a half-hearted attempt to dress.

The Bearcat had never seen such an ugly look on Charlie’s face. Murder looked out of his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you so?” Charlie almost shrieked. “Didn’t I tell you if you went off your nut and tied up to that Gordon skirt your fightin’ days were numbered? You remember what I told you over the phone, the night you laid out Harlem Joe. I knew you were at the hotel boozin’ up with her. Now don’t tell me you weren’t. I guess it’s a manager’s business to keep his eye on the private life of a pug. I said, ‘Ditch that flashy Gordon tramp.’”

Bearcat was out of his chair and his arm drove viciously at Charlie. Charlie side-stepped and the Bearcat sat down again and rubbed his forehead bewilderedly. The manager waited until the Bearcat’s fury had subsided.

“I told you she’s worked every black and white fighter in Harlem that looked like money.”

“Shut up your mug, Charlie.”

Charlie continued relentlessly.