rst families of Brooklyn--lives under the bridge.
His name's Mike Slattery. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll get busy."

As I takes my corner, I could see mother beginnin' to look worried; but
sister opens a box of chocolate creams and prepares to have the time of
her life. Lady Evelyn springs her lorgnette and sizes us up like we was
a bunch of Buffalo Bill Indians just off the reservation.

I'd forgot to tip off Slattery that there wasn't any postprandials
expected of him; so the first thing I knew he was makin' his little ring
speech, just the same's if he was announcin' events at the Never Die
Athletic club.

"Now gents--and ladies," says he, "this is a five-round go for a stay,
between Professor Shorty McCabe, ex-light-weight champeen of the world,
and another gent what goes on the cards as an unknown. It's catch
weights, an' the winner pulls down the whole basket of greens. There
ain't goin' to be no hittin' after the clinch, and if there's any fouls,
you leave it to me. Don't come buttin' in. It's been put up to me to
keep time an' referee this mix-up, and I don't want no help. You
bottle-holders stay in your corners till the count's over. Now are you
ready? Then go!"

There was a squeal or two when we sheds our bath-robes and steps to the
middle, and I guesses that the ladies was gettin' their first view of
ring clothes. But I wasn't lookin' anywhere but at Jarvis. And say, he
would have made a hit anywhere. He had just paddin' enough to round him
out well, and not so much as to make him look ladyfied. Course, he was a
good many pounds over-weight for the job he'd tackled, but he'd have
looked mighty well on a poster. Honest, it seemed a shame to have to
muss him.

Jarvis wa'n't there to stand in the lime-light, though. He went right to
work as though he meant business. I'd kind of figured on lettin' him
have his own way for a couple of rounds, takin' it easy, an' jockeyin'
him into making a showin'; but the first thing I knows he lands a right
swing that near lifts me off my feet, an' Swifty sings out to me to stop
my kiddin'.

"Beg pardon," says Jarvis; "but I'm after that fifty."

"If I'd had a putty jaw, you'd got it then," says I. "Here's the twin to
that."

But my swipe didn't reach him by an inch, and the best I could do was to
swap half-arm jolts until I'd got steadied down again. Well say, I
wasn't more'n an hour findin' out that I couldn't monkey much with
Jarvis. He knew how to let his weight