“If you’re broke I’ll give you your keep as long as you stay wit Pete an’ don’t get cold feet, an’ I’ll fix up a mill for you now an’ then so’s you kin pull down a little coin fer yourself.  Are you game?”

“You know it,” said Billy.

“All to the good then,” said the professor gaily; “now you put on the mitts an’ spell Hurricane for a couple o’ rounds.”

Billy slipped his huge hands into the tight-fitting gloves.

“It’s been more’n a year since I had these on,” he said, “an’ I may be a little slow an’ stale at first; but after I get warmed up I’ll do better.”

Cassidy grinned and winked at Hurricane.  “He won’t never get warmed up,” Hurricane confided; “Pete’ll knock his block off in about two minutes,” and the men settled back to watch the fun with ill-concealed amusement written upon their faces.

What happened within the next few minutes in the stuffy little room of Professor Cassidy’s third-floor “gymnasium” marks an epoch in the professor’s life—­he still talks of it, and doubtless shall until the Great Referee counts him out in the Last Round.

The two men sparred for a moment, gaging one another.  Then Battling Dago Pete swung a vicious left that landed square on Billy’s face.  It was a blow that might have felled an ox; but Billy only shook his head—­it scarce seemed to jar him.  Pete had half lowered his hands as he recovered from the blow, so sure he was that it would finish his new sparring partner, and now before he could regain his guard the mucker tore into him like a whirlwind.  That single blow to the face seemed to have brought back to Billy Byrne all that he ever had known of the manly art of self-defense.

Battling Dago Pete landed a few more before the fight was over, but as any old fighter will tell you there is nothing more discouraging than to discover that your most effective blows do not feeze your opponent, and only the knowledge of what a defeat at the hands of a new sparring partner would mean to his future, kept him plugging away at the hopeless task of attempting to knock out this mountain of bone and muscle.

For a few minutes Billy Byrne played with his man, hitting him when and where he would.  He fought, crouching, much as Jeffries used to fight, and in his size and strength was much that reminded Cassidy of the fallen idol that in his heart of hearts he still worshiped.

And then, like a panther, the mucker sprang in with a vicious left hook to the jaw, followed, with lightning rapidity, by a right upper cut to the chin that lifted Battling Dago Pete a foot from the floor to drop him, unconscious, against the foot of the further wall.

It was a clean knock-out, and when Cassidy and Hurricane got through ministering to the fallen man, and indications of returning consciousness were apparent, the professor turned to Billy.

“Got any more ‘hopes’ lyin’ around loose?” asked the mucker with a grin.  “I guess the big dinge’s safe for a while yet.”