they lost it’s the same. A stranger has about as much chance with a bunch like you as a day-old chick has in the middle of the Atlantic. But say, stranger, you called me a coward. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You’ve got me topped by seventy-five pounds, and you think you know how to handle your dukes. I’ll box you three rounds, and if you touch my face in any round, I’ll give you a five-case note, the last one I have. Not bet, see! Just give! You can’t lose; you may win. What say?”

The conman’s lips parted, but no sound came. The eyes of his pals and cappers were upon him.

“You wouldn’t let the little runt bluff y’,” suggested the young capper of the green tie.

“Oh—all, all right, brother.” The conman’s voice stuck in his throat. “All right. Somebody fetch the gloves.”

A boxing match, or even a free-for-all, is not so uncommon on the back lines of a circus, but it never fails to draw a crowd. It was upon this inevitable crowd that Johnny counted for his backing, should the three rounds turn into a rough and tumble, with no mercy and no quarter.

Once his gloves were on, he explained to the rapidly growing circle the terms of the match.

“There’s no referee, so all of you are it,” he smiled.

“Right-O. We’re wid ye,” a genial Irishman shouted.

“Go to it, kid,” a sturdy stake driver echoed.

“Are you ready?”

Johnny moved his gloves to a position not ten inches from his body. With fists well extended, the conman leaped across the ring. The blow he aimed at Johnny’s head would have felled an ox, had it landed. It did not land. Johnny had sprung to one side. The next instant he tapped the conman on his ragged ear.

This appeared to infuriate his antagonist. Perhaps it served to bring back memories of another battle in which he had been worsted. His rage did him neither service nor credit. Time and again he bounded at the elusive Johnny, to find himself fanning air. Time and again Johnny tapped that ragged ear. The conman landed not a single blow. When, after three minutes, a man called time, and the two paused to take a breath, the plaudits were all for Johnny.

As he rested, the beady eyes of the conman narrowed to slits. He was thinking, planning. He had not scored on the first bout, the second would see him a winner.

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