you're going to whip Holliday," Dunham went on tentatively, as if
sure of what was in the other's mind.

Perry watched him.

"We're going to see to that. It'll be a twenty-round fight to a
decision. Somewhere in the South. But you'll stop Holliday in the
eighth round."

"I fight fair," said Perry, "or I don't fight at all."

"Don't get excited." Dunham was laughing at him a little, not
pleasantly. "You'll be no party to anything--ah--iniquitous. Beat him
before that if you're able. But it'll come in the eighth, don't doubt
that. I'm just telling you beforehand so that you'll lose no sleep in
case you're afraid of Holliday." That was a thrust. "I'm telling you
so you needn't kill yourself training to get ready, though you don't
look over-fed." That was another. Yet Perry felt that he had balanced
them both when he looked the huge man's jelly-bulk up and down.

"Holliday's going to be champion some day," Dunham went unconcernedly
on. "He's bound to be, whether we want him or not. But Montague comes
first. Montague's been a good boy. We merely require your agreement
to meet him should you dispose of Holliday, that is all. And since
that is assured--" He waved a fat hand. "Personally I believe that
Montague is very much better than you are--no offense intended--and
against him you can take care of yourself."

Rapidly Perry cast it up. They were that confident of Holliday's
superiority! And they didn't care whether he suspected their game or
not; they weren't even bothering to work carefully. He could take it
or leave it. He'd have to. That rank! That coarse! It was an easy
sum. Two and two made four.

"Whatever agreement is fixed between you and Holliday is no affair of
mine," he decided at last. "When?"

"A month--five weeks."

"How much?"

Dunham pondered.

"Twenty thousand. We'll give you five for your share."

They were that cool!

"Not me."

"A twenty-thousand-dollar purse seems reasonable," ruminated Dunham.
"It may not be a popular match. And Holliday'll come high."

"That's your affair. I'll fight one way."

Dunham lifted an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Winner take all."

"But you're certain to win! The fight'll be fixed!"

Perry sensed then how greatly the gross man wanted to laugh. Not
bother to train? That old one! Did Dunham really think he was taking
him at his word? Why, his mind in all the days to come would be
riveted on just one thing--that eighth roun