et it
was apparent to all that he was obeying them. Only once did he attempt a
foul. The Captain's quick eyes saw, and with a thundering command that
shook the room he checked the pugilist's stiff arm movement to the
throat. Then the end came. Mr. McGowan brought forward his head and
shoulders with his usual lightning-like swiftness in order to draw a
lead before the other was prepared for it, and at the same time he
accompanied the movement with a quick jerking back of his left hand as
though suddenly changing his mind. The city man did the rest. He halted.
Mr. McGowan stepped to the left just as the other delivered his spent
blow, and with the added weight of his moving body landed his right
glove against the stranger's ear. This was quickly followed with a
crashing upper-cut to the heavy jaw. There was a loud rending and
ripping of splintered wood as the big man fell through one of the thin
panels of the partition. He slid to the floor and lay motionless amidst
the wreckage.

Sim Hicks bawled at him to get up and go on with the fight. Mr. Beaver
squirmed and whined under the tightening grip like a beaten pup. The
crowd stood dumb with amazement. Few of those present had ever witnessed
the effect of a knock-out blow.

Mr. McGowan was the first to the side of the prostrate man. He lifted
him to his feet, and began walking him about. As the stranger regained
his senses, he smiled faintly at Hicks' repeated requests that the
fight be finished.

"How long was I out?" asked the pugilist.

Sim caught the savage glare in the Captain's eyes, and reluctantly
admitted that it had been over a minute.

"But this ain't no regular match!" he shouted.

The pugilist looked in the direction of the Captain as he drew away from
the minister and steadied himself against an upright.

"I guess we'll have to call it regular enough to go by rules," declared
the city boxer. "I'm beaten, Hicks."

"I was sorry to do it, but there seemed no other way. There was too much
at stake to run the risk of losing," said the minister. "May I say, sir,
that you are a good boxer?"

"Mr. McGowan,"--the stranger extended his hand with unaffected
cordiality,--"it's great of you to say that after what I tried to do to
you. I refused to apologize when that old fellow tried to make me, but I
do it now. I'm ashamed of the way I lost my head. If you'll accept my
apology, I'll accept your compliment."

"Gladly!" exclaimed the minister.

Beneath the ro