poor fish, you should be willing to spend a million dollars if it will set you right in your home town. What's a mere thousand to you?"
"My right eye!" says Hurricane.
But he interrupts before I get a chance to bear down on him.
"If you actually think that bringin' them saps down to see me work will do me some good, I'll bring 'em down," he says. "Anything you say is kayo with me, kid, unless you tell me good by!"
Which is as near as Hurricane had yet come to making love to me.
Well, the large night finally arrives when Hurricane Sherlock is to massacre Ignorant Eddie Biff for the edification of his former townsmen of East Silo, N. Y. Among those present was me, of course, at Hurricane's urgent invitation. He had scrupulously attended to the details of my plan to make him a big fellow in his home town. I instructed him to have twenty-five representative citizens of East Silo at the ringside—Hurricane had fifty! I looked 'em over with interest, having no trouble in picking 'em out. They couldn't of made me believe they had come from anywheres else but East Silo if they swore different on a stack of—phone books.
The noisy crowd, the glare of the lights, the gory—preliminary bouts and the general atmosphere of sup-
