see that the car's ready, will you, old man? I've promised Dolores I'd box two rounds with some one at the Red Cross benefit to-night. She's one of the patronesses, you know, and it will be rather a feather in her cap to have a world's champion there. They have a big card of theatrical stars, movie people, and a lot of prominent boxers. You know how these things are, one has to help. I want you to handle me yourself—this will be nothing, just an exhibition, and I'm afraid Dynamite Jackson and Knockout Burns might scare the ladies away!"
"Well—all right," I grumbled. "I guess they's no harm in helpin' the Red Cross, Kid, but this here's kind of sudden. I don't like these short-notice affairs. Who you goin' to box and—"
Kid Roberts throws back his head and laughs. "Hurricane Kenney, the Chickasha Bone Crusher!" he chortles. "He's apparently impressed this sporting writer who wrote that article about him, and I really believe the pair of them think they're slipping one over onme. Of course Kenney's challenging me has smoked the thing up so that—"
"Knock him dead the minute he puts up his hands," I butts in. "We'll get that baby all settled to-night!"
"I'm afraid I may have to stop him this time," says the Kid grimly, shakin' his head. "The poor fool. Well—come on!"
The last-minute announcement that Kid Roberts was goin' to step two rounds with Hurricane Kenney, the cowboy challenger for the championship, brought two-
