other roguishly nuzzled for a share.
'Ain't they, though?' Billy reveled, leading them up and down before her admiring gaze. 'Thirteen hundred an' fifty each, an' they don't look the weight, they're that slick put together. I couldn't believe it myself, till I put 'em on the scales. Twenty-seven hundred an' seven pounds, the two of 'em. An' I tried 'em out-that was two days ago. Good dispositions, no faults, an' true-pullers, automobile broke an' all the rest. I'd back 'em to out-pull any team of their weight I ever seen.-Say, how'd they look hooked up to that wagon of ourn?'
Saxon visioned the picture, and shook her head slowly in a reaction of regret.
'Three hundred spot cash buys 'em,' Billy went on. 'An' that's bed-rock. The owner wants the money so bad he's droolin' for it. Just gotta sell, an' sell quick. An' Saxon, honest to God, that pair'd fetch five hundred at auction down in the city. Both mares, full sisters, five an' six years old, registered Belgian sire, out of a heavy standard-bred mare that I know. Three hundred takes 'em, an' I got the refusal for three days.'
Saxon's regret changed to indignation.
'Oh, why did you show them to me? We haven't any three hundred, and you know it. All I've got in the house is six dollars, and you haven't that much.'
'Maybe you think that's all I brought you down town for,' he replied enigmatically. 'Well, it ain't.'
He paused, licked his lips, and shifted his weight uneasily from one leg to the other.
'Now you listen till I get all done before you say anything. Ready?'
She nodded.
'Won't open your mouth?'
This time she obediently shook her head.
'Well, it's this way,' he began haltingly. 'They's a youngster come up from Frisco, Young Sandow they call 'm, an' the Pride of Telegraph Hill. He's the real goods of a heavyweight, an' he was to fight Montana Red Saturday night, only Montana Red, just in a little trainin' bout, snapped his forearm yesterday. The managers has kept it quiet. Now here's the proposition. Lots of tickets sold, an' they'll be a big crowd Saturday night. At the last moment, so as not to disappoint 'em, they'll spring me to take Montana's place. I 'm the dark horse. Nobody knows me-not even Young Sandow. He's come up since my time. I'll be a rube fighter. I can fight as Horse Roberts.
'Now, wait a minute. The winner'll pull down three hundred big round iron dollars. Wait, I 'm tellin' you! It's a lead-pipe cinch. It's like robbin' a corpse. Sandow's got all the heart in the world-regular knock-down-an'-drag- out-an'-hang-on fighter. I've followed 'm in the papers. But he ain't clever. I 'm slow, all right, all right, but I 'm clever, an' I got a hay-maker in each arm. I got Sandow's number an' I know it.
'Now, you got the say-so in this. If you say yes, the nags is ourn. If you say no, then it's all bets off, an' everything all right, an' I'll take to harness-washin' at the stable so as to buy a couple of plugs. Remember, they'll only be plugs, though. But don't look at me while you're makin' up your mind. Keep your lamps on the horses.'
It was with painful indecision that she looked at the beautiful animals.
'Their names is Hazel an' Hattie,' Billy put in a sly wedge. 'If we get 'em we could call it the 'Double H' outfit.'
But Saxon forgot the team and could only see Billy's frightfully bruised body the night he fought the Chicago Terror. She was about to speak, when Billy, who had been hanging on her lips, broke in:
'Just hitch 'em up to our wagon in your mind an' look at the outfit. You got to go some to beat it.'
'But you're not in training, Billy,' she said suddenly and without having intended to say it.
'Huh!' he snorted. 'I've been in half trainin' for the last year. My legs is like iron. They'll hold me up as long as I've got a punch left in my arms, and I always have that. Besides, I won't let 'm make a long fight. He's a man- eater, an' man-eaters is my meat. I eat 'm alive. It's the clever boys with the stamina an' endurance that I can't put away. But this young Sandow's my meat. I'll get 'm maybe in the third or fourth round-you know, time 'm in a rush an' hand it to 'm just as easy. It's a lead-pipe cinch, I tell you. Honest to God, Saxon, it's a shame to take the money.'
'But I hate to think of you all battered up,' she temporized. 'If I didn't love you so, it might be different. And then, too, you might get hurt.'
Billy laughed in contemptuous pride of youth and brawn.
'You won't know I've been in a fight, except that we'll own Hazel an' Hattie there. An' besides, Saxon, I just gotta stick my fist in somebody's face once in a while. You know I can go for months peaceable an' gentle as a lamb, an' then my knuckles actually begin to itch to land on something. Now, it's a whole lot sensibler to land on Young Sandow an' get three hundred for it, than to land on some hayseed an' get hauled up an' fined before some justice of the peace. Now take another squint at Hazel an' Hattie. They're regular farm furniture, good to breed from when we get to that valley of the moon. An' they're heavy enough to turn right into the plowin', too.'
The evening of the fight at quarter past eight, Saxon parted from Billy. At quarter past nine, with hot water, ice, and everything ready in anticipation, she heard the gate click and Billy's step come up the porch. She had agreed to the fight much against her better judgment, and had regretted her consent every minute of the hour she had just waited; so that, as she opened the front door, she was expectant of any sort of a terrible husband-wreck. But the Billy she saw was precisely the Billy she had parted from.
'There was no fights' she cried, in so evident disappointment that he laughed.
'They was all yellin' 'Fake! Fake!' when I left, an' wantin' their money back.'
'Well, I've got YOU,' she laughed, leading him in, though secretly she sighed farewell to Hazel and Hattie.
'I stopped by the way to get something for you that you've been wantin' some time,' Billy said casually. 'Shut your eyes an' open your hand; an' when you open your eyes you'll find it grand,' he chanted.
Into her hand something was laid that was very heavy and very cold, and when her eyes opened she saw it was a stack of fifteen twenty-dollar gold pieces.
'I told you it was like takin' money from a corpse,' he exulted, as he emerged grinning from the whirlwind of punches, whacks, and hugs in which she had enveloped him. 'They wasn't no fight at all. D 'ye want to know how long it lasted? Just twenty-seven seconds-less 'n half a minute. An' how many blows struck? One. An' it was me that done it. Here, I'll show you. It was just like this-a regular scream.'
Billy had taken his place in the middle of the room, slightly crouching, chin tucked against the sheltering left shoulder, fists closed, elbows in so as to guard left side and abdomen, and forearms close to the body.
'It's the first round,' he pictured. 'Gong's sounded, an' we've shook hands. Of course, seein' as it's a long fight an' we've never seen each other in action, we ain't in no rush. We're just feelin' each other out an' fiddlin' around. Seventeen seconds like that. Not a blow struck. Nothin'. An' then it's all off with the big Swede. It takes some time to tell it, but it happened in a jiffy, in fess In a tenth of a second. I wasn't expectin' it myself. We're awful close together. His left glove ain't a foot from my jaw, an' my left glove ain't a foot from his. He feints with his right, an' I know it's a feint, an' just hunch up my left shoulder a bit an' feint with my right. That draws his guard over just about an inch, an' I see my openin'. My left ain't got a foot to travel. I don't draw it back none. I start it from where it is, corkscrewin' around his right guard an' pivotin' at the waist to put the weight of my shoulder into the punch. An' it connects!-Square on the point of the chin, sideways. He drops deado. I walk back to my corner, an', honest to God, Saxon, I can't help gigglin' a little, it was that easy. The referee stands over 'm an' counts 'm out. He never quivers. The audience don't know what to make of it an' sits paralyzed. His seconds carry 'm to his corner an' set 'm on the stool. But they gotta hold 'm up. Five minutes afterward he opens his eyes-but he ain't seein' nothing. They're glassy. Five minutes more, an' he stands up. They got to help hold 'm, his legs givin' under 'm like they was sausages. An' the seconds has to help 'm through the ropes, an' they go down the aisle to his dressin' room a-helpin' 'm. An' the crowd beginning to yell fake an' want its money back. Twenty-seven seconds- one punch-n' a spankin' pair of horses for the best wife Billy Roberts ever had in his long experience.'
All of Saxon's old physical worship of her husband revived and doubled on itself many times. He was in all truth a hero, worthy to be of that wing-helmeted company leaping from the beaked boats upon the bloody English sands. The next morning he was awakened by her lips pressed on his left hand.
'Hey!-what are you doin'?'' he demanded.
'Kissing Hazel and Hattie good morning,' she answered demurely. 'And now I 'm going to kiss you good morning…… And just where did your punch land? Show me.'
Billy complied, touching the point of her chin with his knuckles. With both her hands on his arm, she shored it back and tried to draw it forward sharply in similitude of a punch. But Billy withstrained her.
'Wait,' he said. 'You don't want to knock your jaw off. I'll show you. A quarter of an inch will do.'
