This time Lottie kept her lips together, but the new hurt showed on her
face. Joe looked at his watch and said it was time to go. His sister's
arms went about his neck, and she kissed him soundly on the lips. She
kissed Genevieve, too, and saw them to the gate, one arm of her brother
about her waist.

"What does ten to six mean?" Genevieve asked, the while their footfalls
rang out on the frosty air.

"That I'm the long end, the favorite," he answered. "That a man bets ten
dollars at the ring side that I win against six dollars another man is
betting that I lose."

"But if you're the favorite and everybody thinks you'll win, how does
anybody bet against you?"

"That's what makes prize-fighting--difference of opinion," he laughed.
"Besides, there's always the chance of a lucky punch, an accident. Lots
of chance," he said gravely.

She shrank against him, clingingly and protectingly, and he laughed with
surety.

"You wait, and you'll see. An' don't get scared at the start. The first
few rounds'll be something fierce. That's Ponta's strong point. He's a
wild man, with an kinds of punches,--a whirlwind,--and he gets his man in
the first rounds. He's put away a whole lot of cleverer and better men
than him. It's up to me to live through it, that's all. Then he'll be
all in. Then I go after him, just watch. You'll know when I go after
him, an' I'll get'm, too."