"But what's the idea? What's it all for?
Are you getting a chunk of money from him?"

"Come to think of it," said the doctor, "I am
entitled to a fee for this. There isn't any ar-
rangement about money, though."

"Well, then, what have you got up your
sleeve ? ' ' persisted Haynes. ' ' You 're not doing
this out of charity, or because you think you
owe something to your profession."

"No-o," said Phelps. "You might say I'm
taking it on purely as a sporting proposition.
It's this way: Billy wants to get another crack
at Frankie Brady. Frankie isn't a great light-
weight by any manner of means, but he's the
champion of the world just the same. He's
such a poor fighter that I bet eight hundred on
Wade when they met last year. I thought
Billy's stamina would carry him through. You
remember what a ripping, slashing little devil
he used to be? He won all his fights because
he could set a terrific pace and hold it. That's
stamina — energy. That's what Billy has lost,
and, without it, anybody can whip him. The
general opinion is that when a man's stamina
goes back on him, he 's through for good. I be-

[32]



THE SPOETING DOOTOE



lieve that theory is wrong — ^in this case, at least.
Billy is only a kid yet, and if I can get him
cleaned out and trained and his hands in shape
so that he can hit with 'em again, I'll guarantee
that he'll lick all the Frankie Bradys that you
can pile into a ten-acre lot!"

"Oho!" said Haynes. "I'm on, Doc. You're
going to make a clean-up in the betting !"

Phelps' round face flushed slightly.
