"I think you're givin' me a pushin' around," says Fighting Paddy. "How 'bout a little service on that number?"
"They don't answer, King Leary," I tell him.
"Keep ringing' 'em," he says. "Maybe the bell will get on their nerves. And don't think you're kiddin' me with that king business, because before long I'll be a king in my line! If you ever get five minutes to yourself to scan the papers, you might of saw where I stopped Forty-two-Round Hogan over in Jersey just a week ago. Hogan was known far and wide as a glutton for punishment, but he couldn't cope with me. That's one glutton I give indigestion!"
"There's no use of you trying to sell yourself to me, king," I says. "Honestly, I know nothing about prize fighting."
"It ain't hard to learn," says Fighting Paddy. "There's only one rule which amounts to anything—keep' your shoulder blades off the floor. That's all there is to it, but try and do it! What I commenced to say was that by knockin' Forty-two-Round Hogan for a mock orange I get a fight with Grenadier Tompkins, world's middleweight champion. Two years ago I was that egg's sparrin' partner. One day I got sick of lookin' at him and smacked him dead in a trainin' bout. They throwed me out on my ear. A year later I boxed him a fifteen-round draw. I took him too
