"Hamilton," he says, almost in a whisper, "look out for yourself in this fight with Kid Roberts. I got this straight from headquarters and it's no josh. This big stiff is sore at the way you trimmed his sparrin' partzer, and, well—you know how Nada's acted—and he's gonna try and deliberately cut you to pieces to give the gang a laugh! Watch your step and—"
Hamilton cuts in.
"All right—thanks!" he says. "I'll watch out and—you watch me! This is better than I hoped for and I'm going to give this fellow the surprise of his life!"
On top of Hamilton's retreatin' footsteps come Van Dyke's short laugh, and then I stepped from behind the scenery, right into him. He changed colors like a lizard and greatly reminded me of one, for that matter.
"What's the big idea?" I snarls. "Come on, make it snappy and don't stall—I heard the whole layout! Are you tryin' to frame Kid Roberts, you little rat? You know the Kid's got no idea of knockin' Hamilton's head off. Why, he'd no more hurt that guy than he'd—"
"That's what's the matter!" butts in Van Dyke excitedly. "That's exactly the trouble! But if Hamilton comes at him doin' his best, why, the Kid will have to knock his head off, won't he?"
"He might have to stop him—yes," I admits. "But—"
"But nothin'!" says Van Dyke. "You got some brains, ain't you? You know what depends on this fight scene bein' a riot—why, it's the kick to the whole picture! If it flops, good-bye money, my reputation, yes, and a good part of your champ's rep, too. Fight
