"How could I take that lucky stiff?" butts in Mike with his first show of interest. "How could I bounce him when he's got a mole on his right shoulder. Nobody can beat no guy with a mole on his right shoulder!"
That incident sort of disgusted me with Mike McGann and I firmly refused to see or talk to him any more. I guess it was two or three months before I heard of him again and then one day, idly glancing through the sporting page at the switchboard, I read where Mike was to defend his championship against one Half-Round O'Cohen at Madison Square Garden. Shortly afterwards Michael and Samuel arrived in person. In some unknown manner Silent Sam had coaxed Hazel into going to dinner with him between shows, had worked fast and won her over again for the time being. She helped him plead for Michael with me and—well, I made it a party of four. Mike kept his personality in high that evening and before we separated he'd managed to foist ringside tickets to his coming bout with Half-Round O'Cohen on me and Hazel.
On the afternoon of the big fight Michael bounded into me in an almost hysterical condition. He blurted out that he wasn't going through with the match as he'd just discovered he hadn't one chance in a million to win!
"We weigh in at two o'clock for the boxin' commis-
