The atmosphere was one of physical battle; the red-faced gentlemen were filled with alcoholic spirits; yet who shall say just why the red-faced man, his friend stumbling against him, gained the impression that Anthony Fry had struck him a coward's blow from behind? Or why, with a roar of incoherent fury, he aimed a dreadful punch at Anthony himself, standing there quite collected if somewhat paler? That is what happened, although by no means all that happened. The unfortunate spot came three seconds later when Anthony, side-stepping the alcoholized jab, threw up his hands to fend off the jabber's whole swaying person--threw them, all unwittingly, so that his right fist settled squarely on a red nose, drawing therefrom a magic spurt of blood! After that, for a little, nothing was very clear. Three sets of fists began to hammer in Anthony's general direction; three throats shouted--and three hundred took up the shout. Men came tumbling toward Box B and into it. A large person in bright blue shirt-sleeves, with a derby on the back of his head, received the third blow intended for Anthony and returned it with interest, just as that startled person was jammed against the rail. From three different points, high-held night-sticks were pushing through the surging crowd; and Johnson Boller, looking quickly at the storm center, counted no less than eleven separate couples pounding one another, and smiled as he jerked Anthony bodily over the rail and hissed: "Come on, you poor lunatic! Come on!" "Johnson, upon my soul----" Anthony began. "Never mind your soul! Get your body out of here before the cops find it and club it to death for starting this rumpus!" Mr. Boller cried agitatedly. "Look at that sergeant, Anthony! He's got his eye on you and he's fighting his way over here! Now, you scoot down there, kid! Move! Quick, before----" "No! Come with us, boy!" Anthony said, somewhat disconcertingly. "What for?" the boy inquired. "I want to watch this." "You stay and watch it by all means!" Johnson Boller smiled quickly. "You're perfectly safe, youngster; I was only fooling. Now you come this way, Anthony, and----" Anthony, unperturbed, laid a kindly hand on the youngster's shoulder. "You'd better come with us, my son," said he. "They'll run you in for a witness and you may be locked up for a week unless you have friends to get you out." This time he had startled the young man. Wide eyes turned and stared at him and there was a distinct note of fright in the voice that said: "What do you mean? Arrest me?" "Of course, if you stay here," Anthony said. "Come with me and I'll take care of you." And then Johnson Boller had caught his arm and was dragging him away; and Anthony, catching the willing arm of the boy, was dragging him after. Around the side of the ring they sped, where an interested group of fighters and trainers watched the mêlée; and, veering, on through a small side door and into the night.