Up at Billy Morgan's I let the Kid roam around at will while I tried to make arrangements to have him took on as a sparrin' partner for some good guy. Billy gazed around the gym, where there were half a dozen of all weights workin' the pulleys, punchin' the bag, sparrin' or shadow boxin'.
"Well," he says, "I dunno. There's not many boys here now—most of the big fellers is goin' around the circuit outa town and the like. Al Kennedy is readyin' himself for his quarrel with Young Williams, but I guess Al's a little too tough for your kid, hey?"
"You tell 'em!" I says with feelin'. "My boy's only started twict and I ain't gonna have him cut up and discouraged by that big stiff for nothin', that's a cinch! By the way, who's got Kennedy now?"
"Heh?" says Bill. "Oh, Dummy Carney—he's around here somewheres now with Rocky Martin and Sailor McGann, them two boloneys of his. Say—Dummy oughta fix you up at that. His guys is workin' out here, and no doubt Dummy will ease your boy in with 'em. He's a pretty good friend of yours, ain't he?"
The answer come from Carney.
I can see the thing now as well as if I was standin' there in Billy's gym lookin' at it again. Dummy Carney slouchin' in with his two bruisers, me gettin' and feelin' pale in the neighborhood of the gills when I seen him, because the last time we bosom friends had met, Kid Roberts had knocked Dummy flat—and the Kid watchin' big Al Kennedy punchin' the bag.
Dummy is a big man and far from yellah. The
