o sneak a lucky one across."

"Oh, I'll be careful all right, all right," Danny smiled. "I'll get in
at the start an' nurse 'im along for the dear public's sake. What d' ye
say to fifteen rounds, Kelly--an' then the hay for him?"

"That'll do," was the answer. "As long as you make it realistic."

"Then let's get down to biz." Danny paused and calculated. "Of course,
sixty-five per cent of the gate receipts, same as with Carthey. But
the split'll be different. Eighty will just about suit me." And to his
manager, "That right?"

The manager nodded.

"Here, you, did you get that?" Kelly asked Rivera.

Rivera shook his head.

"Well, it is this way," Kelly exposited. "The purse'll be sixty-five per
cent of the gate receipts. You're a dub, and an unknown. You and Danny
split, twenty per cent goin' to you, an' eighty to Danny. That's fair,
isn't it, Roberts?"

"Very fair, Rivera," Roberts agreed.

"You see, you ain't got a reputation yet."

"What will sixty-five per cent of the gate receipts be?" Rivera
demanded.

"Oh, maybe five thousand, maybe as high as eight thousand," Danny broke
in to explain. "Something like that. Your share'll come to something
like a thousand or sixteen hundred. Pretty good for takin' a licking
from a guy with my reputation. What d' ye say?"

Then Rivera took their breaths away. "Winner takes all," he said with
finality.

A dead silence prevailed.

"It's like candy from a baby," Danny's manager proclaimed.

Danny shook his head.

"I've been in the game too long," he explained.

"I'm not casting reflections on the referee, or the present company.
I'm not sayin' nothing about book-makers an' frame-ups that sometimes
happen. But what I do say is that it's poor business for a fighter like
me. I play safe. There's no tellin'. Mebbe I break my arm, eh? Or some
guy slips me a bunch of dope?" He shook his head solemnly. "Win or lose,
eighty is my split. What d' ye say, Mexican?"

Rivera shook his head.

Danny exploded. He was getting down to brass tacks now.

"Why, you dirty little greaser! I've a mind to knock your block off
right now."

Roberts drawled his body to interposition between hostilities.

"Winner takes all," Rivera repeated sullenly.

"Why do you stand out that way?" Danny asked.

"I can lick you," was the straight answer.

Danny half started to take off his coat. But, as his manager knew, it
was a grand stand play. The coat did not come off, and Danny allowed
him