THE MEXICAN
Rivera nodded.
"Oh, come; listen to reason," Kelly pleaded. "Think of the advertising."
"I want the money," was Rivera's answer.
"You couldn't win from me in a thousand years," Danny assured him.
"Then what are you holding out for?" Rivera countered. "If the money's that easy, why don't you go after it?"
"I will, so help me!" Danny cried with abrupt conviction. "I'll beat you to death in the ring, my boy— you monkeyin' with me this way. Make out the articles, Kelly. Winner take all. Play it up in the sportin' columns. Tell 'em it's a grudge fight. I'll show this fresh kid a few."
Kelly's secretary had begun to write, when Danny interrupted.
"Hold on!" He turned to Rivera. "Weights?"
"Ringside," came the answer.
"Not on your life. Fresh Kid. If winner takes all, we weigh in at ten a. m."
"And winner takes all?" Rivera queried.
Danny nodded. That settled it. He would enter the ring in his full ripeness of strength.
"Weigh in at ten," Rivera said.
The secretary's pen went on scratching.
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