down the steps in a swoon! Bettin' on the round with a tough nut like Enright, hey? Woof!
The minute old man Halliday has said good night. After we get to the hotel, I dragged the Kid in my room and shut the door.
"I ain't no keyhole hound," I says, "but bein' on the steps up at the house like I was just now, I heard you tell Miss Brewster you was goin' to bet your end of the Enright purse that you'll stop this guy in six rounds."
"Well, keep it quiet," he says after lookin' at me for a minute. "I don't want my father to know anything about it—yet."
"You don't want—you don't mean to tell me you actually intend makin' a sucker bet like that, do you?" I gasps.
"I was never more in earnest!" he says, bangin' his fist down on the bureau. "The minute you collect our money, three days or whatever it is before the fight, you get it down—you'll know where—on me to win by a knockout inside of six rounds. I want every cent of it covered when I step into the ring!"
"A hundred and fifty grands!" I breathed. "You're cuckoo!"
"Not at all," he says impatiently. "Good Lord, I never was surrounded by so many crape hangers in my life! After this fight I expect to have something like half a million dollars, for I'll stop Enright in a couple of rounds as sure as my name is Halliday! Or maybe," he adds, suddenly turnin' a hard stare on me—"maybe you think I won't?"
