The announcer walked down to the center of the ring and shot up his hand for silence. Jerking his thumb at the blacksmith in the left corner, he barked:

“Blacksmith Cooper, East Side, weight 164,” then jerked his right thumb swiftly at the other corner: “Bearcat Delaney, Jersey City, weight 160.”

A wide grin broke over the Bearcat’s face. The crowd was curious about the newcomer. Shouts went up as the two men met in the center of the ring and clasped gloves.

“Where’d ya get the Bearcat, Charlie?”

Charlie passed the word that Bearcat was off a truck. It was bait for the crowd.

White silk trunks covered the middle of Bearcat’s body. Dark brown wavy hair smoothed back from a triangle point on his well-shaped forehead set off a square-jawed face. A medium-sized nose that had been broken emphasized the strength of a well-formed mouth. Gray-green eyes studied everything with a smiling calm. Babe saw instantly that he was something, and then some.

“Who you for?” Jenny asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Babe drawled, and leaned forward. The gong sounded!

“Come on, Blacksmith!”

“Come on, Bearcat! Do your stuff!”

With a cat-like movement, and arms moving like a piston, the Bearcat forged a ring around the solar plexus of the Blacksmith.

“Look at that, Babe. He’s got the horseshoe dizzy already. It’s goin’ to be a knockout. Charlie’s got a champ this time sure. Look at him dance and sock.” Babe’s eye sneaked over to Charlie, who was watching his boy with satisfied pride. A great shout rose. The Bearcat had tripped but was fighting back from his knees and laughing and hammering blows all over the Blacksmith as the bell rang for the end of the round. A great roar went up.

“You're all right, Bearcat.”

“Yo’ sure can go, white boy!”

“You’d better not step between them headlights, Blacksmith !”

“Watch out. That truck-driver’s gonna run you down, Blacksmith!”

Around the slopes, silver and bills flashed out and were staked on the number of rounds the fight would go—what the decision would be. Bets were made that the Bearcat would slip over a K.O., by the third round. Jenny grabbed Babe excitedly. Babe sat in a daze watching the Bearcat smile as the seconds sponged him with water. Jenny rattled on.

“He’s goin’ to be hard to make, Babe. I told you not to crack with Charlie. You know you ain’t got a chance now. And look what we’re missin’ if this truck-driver lands in the dough. Hell’s a matter with you anyway? Don’t you hear me?”

“Don’t bother me!”

The bell sounded again. Five more rounds to go. Four of them contained sensational fighting with the Bearcat defending himself brilliantly against the veteran blacksmith. The crowd gave the Bearcat a great hand as he finished the fifth round with one more to go.

“What an engine that truck has!”