that's
the difference about who takes the other fellow's number. Condition,
that's what it is."

"But he is so big," Saxon protested. "Why, his fists are twice as big as
yours."

"That don't mean anything. What counts is what's behind the fists. He'd
turn loose like a buckin' bronco. If I couldn't drop him at the start,
all I'd do is to keep away, smother up, an' wait. An' all of a sudden
he'd blow up--go all to pieces, you know, wind, heart, everything, and
then I'd have him where I wanted him. And the point is he knows it,
too."

"You're the first prizefighter I ever knew," Saxon said, after a pause.

"I'm not any more," he disclaimed hastily. "That's one thing the
fightin' game taught me--to leave it alone. It don't pay. A fellow
trains as fine as silk--till he's all silk, his skin, everything, and
he's fit to live for a hundred years; an' then he climbs through the
ropes for a hard twenty rounds with some tough customer that's just as
good as he is, and in those twenty rounds he frazzles out all his silk
an' blows in a year of his life. Yes, sometimes he blows in five years
of it, or cuts it in half, or uses up all of it. I've watched 'em. I've
seen fellows strong as bulls fight a hard battle and die inside the year
of consumption, or kidney disease, or anything else. Now what's the good
of it? Money can't buy what they throw away. That's why I quit the game
and went back to drivin' team. I got my silk, an' I'm goin' to keep it,
that's all."

"It must make you feel proud to know you are the master of other men,"
she said softly, aware herself of pride in the strength and skill of
him.

"It does," he admitted frankly. "I'm glad I went into the game--just as
glad as I am that I pulled out of it.... Yep, it's taught me a lot--to
keep my eyes open an' my head cool. Oh, I've got a temper, a peach of a
temper. I get scared of myself sometimes. I used to be always breakin'
loose. But the fightin' taught me to keep down the steam an' not do
things I'd be sorry for afterward."

"Why, you're the sweetest, easiest tempered man I know," she
interjected.

"Don't you believe it. Just watch me, and sometime you'll see me break
out that bad that I won't know what I'm doin' myself. Oh, I'm a holy
terror when I get started!"

This tacit promise of continued acquaintance gave Saxon a little
joy-thrill.

"Say," he said, as they neared her neighborhood, "what are you doin'
next Sunday?"

"Nothing. No plans at all."