When the bell sounded Dynamite Danny went
briskly to work, as was his wont, and just as
briskly there sprang to meet him a trim, flat-
muscled little thunderbolt under an immense
thatch of straw colored hair, ' ' Huh ! ' ' thought
Danny, who was accustomed to cautious oppo-
nents. "This guy don't know who I am — ^he
ain't afraid, nor nothing!"

O'Brien introduced himself by means of a
right hook aimed at the jaw. The blond un-
known ducked, suifering a glancing blow upon

[179]



TAKING THE COUNT



ihis cauliflower ear, countered with a stiff, dig-
ging jolt under the heart — and the battle was
on. And such a battle ! The irresistible force
had encountered the immovable obstacle, each
possessing elements of the other. Dynamite
Danny set his teeth and whaled away with his
deadly right; Joe O'Malley set his teeth and
met it — and a little bit more. The straw-colored
hair rocked and tossed under the brutal assault ;
O'Brien's mid section quivered under a re-
sponding tattoo. No ground was given and no
quarter asked; it was five rounds of savage
fighting crowded into one, and when the bell
struck the boys apart and sent them to their
corners the spectators leaped to their feet and
yelled themselves hoarse. The grubby little
manager, deftly plying a sponge, caught the
sporting editor's eye — and winked.
