second his eyes lit on the Kid he has him by the shoulder and swung him around.
"Well, see what's here!" he sneers. "Little Kewpie, the sassiety boxer, hey?" He raised his voice, and some of the gang stopped workin' to look. "Are you ready to live up to your contract with me yet, you big bum?"
The Kid puts his hands in his pockets and his complexion turns a shade or so lighter.
"You deserted me in Sandusky in my first fight when you thought I was going to be knocked out," he says pretty even. "I have no contract with you, as I consider that your yellow action automatically broke it. If you make one more insulting remark to me or annoy me in any way, I will take great pleasure in knocking you through that wall!"
Dummy' face turned a unbecoming shade of purple, and he begin to gasp like a newly captured trout. When he fin'ly succeeded in gettin' a fresh grip on the English language he shook his fist in the Kid's face and bellered:
"You—you—why—don't you dare to double-cross me, you boob, or you'll never get a fight around New York! Your contract called for at least three starts under my management, and you'll go through with it or you don't pull on another glove!"
The Kid deliberately turns his back to him and gazes at Al Kennedy, which, whilst still whippin' the bag around, has got a attentive though battered ear open to the conversation.
Dummy let fall a expression which is rarely heard in a church and wheeled around to his two maulers, Rocky Martin and Sailor McGann.
