themselves until the odds are better. If Brophy goes into the ring a
three-to-one favorite these fellows will make a killing that will be
talked of for the next twenty years."

"And incidentally give boxing another black eye," interjected Jimmy.

"Oh, what the hell do we care?" said the other. "I'm goin' to make mine
out of it, and you better do the same. I'm goin' to put up every cent I
can borrow or steal on the other guy."

It was Saturday, the 15th of January, just a week before the fight, that
Jimmy, trained now almost to perfection, stepped into the ring to take
his usual mauling. For some time past there had been insidiously working
its way into his mind a vast contempt for the pugilistic prowess of
Young Brophy.

"If," thought Jimmy, "this bird is of championship caliber, I might be a
champion myself." For, though Young Brophy was not a champion, the
newspapers had been pointing to him for time as a likely possibility for
these pugilistic honors later.

As this mental attitude grew within him and took hold of Jimmy it more
and more irked him to take the punishment which he inwardly felt he
could easily inflict upon Brophy instead, but, as Jimmy had learned
through lean and hungry months, a job is a job, and no job is to be
sneezed at or lightly thrown aside.

There was quite a gathering that afternoon to watch Young Brophy's
work-out, and rather a larger representation than usual from society's
younger set. The program, which had consisted in part of shadow boxing