fight Blair had paid him well to throw it. And he had done
so.

Thus, you see, they learned logically why Devereau had quit Perry.
Devereau was square. Sure! This proved it. You said it! They
understood perfectly those eloquent shoulder shrugs now. And they
raised a righteous clamor. Perry Blair denied the charge, and offered
to meet Gay again, anywhere, for any charity. And they replied, with
equal logic, that every reputable club in the country should bar him
thenceforth.

In a short interview, not as unsatisfactory as Devereau's, Pig-iron
Dunham broke a rule and talked for publication.

"It is the sort of thing which has given a bad name to a clean and
manly sport in this state," he said. "I sincerely trust, however, that
all true lovers of the squared circle will put the blame where it
belongs."

And in the meantime his paid mouthpieces parroted everywhere the words
in which they had been drilled. He has no punch at all, they said; he
can't hit. He has no science, they said; he is slow as a freight. He
has not the fighter's heart. He's yellow--yellow! And that word stuck.

The clique which had rated his reticence stingy was eager to believe.
They needed no persuading. So no throngs gathered round him any more.
Those who had fawned passed by on the far side of the street, lest
crudely he recall past accommodations. And, passing, they smiled. And
the public, that public to which a world's champion was something
picturesque at which to crane the neck, if they recognized him at all
now, had to concentrate to remember what it was that they had read
lately about him. Crooked? That was bad. Not clever enough to get
away with it? That was worse. Yellow? Well, that was unpardonable in
any man. And they hardly hid their contempt.

After a few fruitless attempts Perry gave up trying to find a new
manager and sought bouts for himself. He found them, but on such terms
that they were always impossible. He challenged Jimmy Montague, which
was a bad tactical error, but he had been just a little panicky at
first. He challenged Montague who was being hailed as the logical
title-holder, and in so doing seemed tacitly to admit that he realized
the claim was good.

Montague ignored him.

He challenged Holliday, and he was afraid of Holliday, too. And
Holliday made game of him noisily.

"What'll it get me to fight you?" he wanted to know. "If I stub me toe
and fall down, somebody'll raise a yelp t