he have been pointed out as the "guy that croaked Sheehan";
but there is always a fly in the ointment, and Billy only
sighed and came out of his temporary retirement.

That battle started Billy to thinking, and the result of that
mental activity was a determination to learn to handle his
mitts scientifically--people of the West Side do not have
hands; they are equipped by Nature with mitts and dukes.
A few have paws and flippers.

He had no opportunity to realize his new dream for several
years; but when he was about seventeen a neighbor's
son surprised his little world by suddenly developing from an
unknown teamster into a locally famous light-weight.

The young man never had been affiliated with the gang, as
his escutcheon was defiled with a record of steady employment.
So Billy had known nothing of the sparring lessons his
young neighbor had taken, or of the work he had done at
the down-town gymnasium of Larry Hilmore.

Now it happened that while the new light-weight was unknown
to the charmed circle of the gang, Billy knew him fairly
well by reason of the proximity of their respective parental
back yards, and so when the glamour of pugilistic success
haloed the young man Billy lost no time in basking in the
light of reflected glory.

He saw much of his new hero all the following winter.
He accompanied him to many mills, and on one glorious occasion