n Town it was evident that he lacked Condition. He had
been dieting himself on Pie and Beer, and any Expert, such as the Cigar
Store Man, could tell by looking at him that his Abdomen was not hard
enough to withstand those crushing Body Blows such as the Boy was in the
Habit of Landing--on the Punching Bag. Accordingly the Word went around
that the imported Pug was too Fat and had bad Wind.

It began to resemble a Cinch.

The Manager went out and bet more Money, and the Coming Champion was
Nervous for fear that he would kill the Has-Been if he connected too
strong on the Point of the Jaw. He thought it would be better to wear
him down with Short-Arm blows and make him Quit. He had read that it was
Dangerous to punish a Physical Wreck, who might have Heart Trouble or
something like that. The Boy was a Professional Pugilist, but he had
Humane Instincts.

When the Boy came to the Train which was to carry the Participants and
the Spectators to the Battle-Field he was attended by four Comrades, who
had Ice, Beef Tea, Brandy, Alcohol, Blankets and other Paraphernalia.
They made a Couch for him in the Baggage Car, and had him lie down, so
that he might conserve all his Strength and step into the Ring as fresh
as possible. The so-called Unknown had no one to Handle him. He sat
Alone in the Men's Car, with a queer Telescope Valise on his Knees, and
he smoked a Cigarette, which was in direct Violation of all the Rules of
Training.

At last the Company arrived at the Secluded Spot, and a Ring was staked
out.

The Coming Champion was received with Loud Cheers. He wore a new Pair of
Gymnasium Shoes, spotless Trunks, and around his Waist was an American
Flag, presented by his Admirers in the Athletic Club.

In a few Moments the Imported Scrapper came into the Ring, attended by
the Sporty Undertaker. He wore an old Pair of Bike Shoes and faded Work
Trousers, chopped off at the Knees, while his Belt was a Shawl-Strap.
He was chewing Gum.

[Illustration: AND SEE!]

After he put on the Gloves he looked over at the Coming Champion and
remarked to the Undertaker that he (the Coming Champion) seemed to be a
Nice Young Fellow. After which he Yawned slightly, and wanted to know
what Time they would get a Train back to Town.

The Bell rang, and there in the Center of the Ring stood the Tottering
Has-Been and the Coming Champion.

The Has-Been was crouched, with his Head drawn in, turtle-fashion, his
Legs spraddled, and oh, the har