He then introduced Billy to the Harlem
Hurricane, and Battling Dago Pete. "Pete's de guy I was tellin'
you about," explained Professor Cassidy. "He's got such a
wallop dat I can't keep no sparrin' partners for him. The
Hurricane here's de only bloke wit de guts to stay wit him--
he's a fiend for punishment, Hurricane is; he jest natchrly eats
it.
"If you're broke I'll give you your keep as long as you stay
wit Pete an' don't get cold feet, an' I'll fix up a mill for you
now an' then so's you kin pull down a little coin fer yourself.
Are you game?"
"You know it," said Billy.
"All to the good then," said the professor gaily; "now you
put on the mitts an' spell Hurricane for a couple o' rounds."
Billy slipped his huge hands into the tight-fitting gloves.
"It's been more'n a year since I had these on," he said, "an'
I may be a little slow an' stale at first; but after I get warmed
up I'll do better."
Cassidy grinned and winked at Hurricane. "He won't never
get warmed up," Hurricane confided; "Pete'll knock his block
off in about two minutes," and the men settled back to watch
the fun with ill-concealed amusement written upon their faces.
What happened within the next few minutes in the stuffy
little room of Professor Cassidy's third-floor "gymnasium"
marks an epoch in the professor's life--he still talks of it, and
doubtless shall until the Great Referee counts him out in the
Last Round.
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