Obeying a sign from his manager, he advanced
and the men were locked in a clinch when the
bell rang.
"You're all right!" crackled Larry Delaney
[262]



THE PEAKL BROOCH



hysterically. "He can 't hurt you with the right
hand."

"Can't hurt me!" mumbled Oscar. "Feel
that lump on my head!"

There was a disagreement in Slattery's cor-
ner also.
' ' I told you not to put so much of that stuff
on my hands," growled Steve. "I busted my
hand on that big stiff ! It 's all your fault, too. ' '

"You only think it's broke," said Kahn.
"I wish you had it instead of me," said the
fighter. "I've busted my hands often enough
to know. I copped him right on the top of that
thick head of his. Wow — ^but it hurts ! "

"You can stop him with your left," urged
Kahn. "You don't need your right for a bum
like this fellow."

"It's easy for you to talk," grumbled Slat-
tery.
Oscar's stage fright was wearing away by de-
grees, and in the third round he actually blocked
a few of the cutting lefts which Slattery shot at
his battered features, and essayed several giant
swings, which, though they missed the mark by
a foot or so, made him friends in the gallery.
He paid for his temerity with a rapidly clos-
ing eye and several new cuts. At the end of the
round he walked unsteadily to his comer, and
the gallery cheered him.
