ugh exterior of this savage fighter there was the spirit
of the true sportsman. The two men removed their gloves and gripped bare
hands in a warm grasp.

"The fact of the matter is, you had me outclassed at every turn. Any man
who could do what you have done to-night, after I'd thought I'd spied on
you long enough to secure the key to all your strong points, could make
his fortune in the ring. I'm heartily ashamed that I made myself a party
to this plot to put you out. What your old friend has said is true: I'm
a cur and a white-livered coward to sneak in on you the way I did."

"See here!" shouted Sim Hicks, abandoning all caution, "ain't you going
to finish this little job you've been paid for?"

"It is finished, but it wasn't stipulated in the contract as to who was
going to do the finishing."

"You----"

"Shet that trap of yours, Sim. If you don't it's li'ble to get another
catch," threatened the Captain.

Hicks eyed the seaman, rubbed his swollen nose, and backed away.

Mr. Beaver did a corkscrew dance, and tried in vain to release the hold
on his collar.

"Cap'n Pott!" exclaimed the surprised minister who noticed for the first
time that the seaman was holding Mr. Beaver. "What on earth are you
doing?"

"Well, this little shrimp was mighty interested in the boxing, and I
thought he might as well come down for a few lessons that he wouldn't
forget right off. I cal'lated to give him a few myself."

Mr. Beaver's face was purple. His words would probably have been of the
same hue had there been any possibility of releasing them.

"Let him go, Cap'n, you're strangling him."

"He'd otter be choked, if he's as deep in this thing as I think he is.
But he ain't in no condition for a lesson to-night, he's a mite too
worked up. Harry, I'll let you off, but if this here yarn gets out into
the church through you or through the rest of the menagerie, we'll give
you the little lesson I spoke about, and it will stick like glue to your
anatomy. Now, you run along to Eadie, she'll be missing you, and I'd
hate to send you home mussed up."

Mr. Beaver ran. With a dart he shot for the stair.

The members of the club escorted Mr. McGowan to the Captain's home. As
he said good night, Hank Simpson came forward.

"Mr. McGowan, the fellers want to know if you'll be one of our members
in regular standing."

Mr. McGowan expressed his delight, and declared he would like nothing
better.

"He's 'lected, fellers!" shouted Ha