Iron Man could hear, behind and around him, the swelling roar of the crowd. He knew it was for him. He had won. A hard, good fight. He had won. It remained now for him to put the trimmings on the package. Artfully he flirted in and around the Tanker, jabbing him lightly, ripping powerful right-hand shots to his head, toying with him. The crowd was roaring for blood. They wanted the finish. The Champion moved forward, wound up. He started his famous knockout sequence of punches, landing the first and second carefully, playing to his audience so that they could see what was happening and appreciate from the beginning what was about to happen. The Champion was enjoying himself. He worked with flash and flourish, and the crowd began to love it. Then Tanker Bell came alive. The Champion was first to see the expression of his face, and a split-second before it happened, he knew he had been tricked. He would forever remember that expression. It was almost human. It was an expression of hatred. Of murderous, long-controlled rage, diabolical and lethal. Tanker Bell ripped a blow to his jaw so well-set, so precise, so accurate, that when the Champion's head snapped back, the cable at the back of his neck broke. The Champion fell over on his back, striking the deck like fallen thunder. The Champion was not only 'out'--he was 'dead'. There was a great, still silence in the arena as Tanker Bell strode back to his corner. It was as if the air, and sound, and people had been frozen. The Referee came to his senses first, stood over Iron-Man, and counted, with long strokes of the arm. At the last stroke, chaos broke loose. Fans and officials swarmed into the ring. The spectators roared. But Tanker Bell had eyes for one single human being in that arena. Charlie Jingle. When he turned, Tanker saw Charlie Jingle doubled over the ropes, laughing. A reporter pulled Tanker to the middle of the ring before he could get to Charlie. While they quizzed him and prodded him, Charlie Jingle remained doubled over the ropes in a violent fit of hysteria. Finally they drew Charlie Jingle into the circle at ring-center. Had he had any doubts that Tanker would win? "Never!" Did he know that Tanker was faking toward the last? Certainly, came the laughing reply. How much money had he bet on his fighter? Ten thousand dollars, came the uproarious reply, and Tanker Bell bellowed, "He's a liar! He never bet a thing!" The Press was astonished. The Officials perked up their suspicious noses. What did Tanker Bell mean? "Ask him!" accused the glaring Tanker. Did Charlie Jingle have the bet ticket with him? After all, Mister Jingle--news. Charlie Jingle, laughing, with a flourish, produced a ticket from his shirt pocket. Tanker Bell stared at it, goggle-eyed. What would Charlie Jingle do with the money from the proceeds? "Ruin Pugs, Inc.," said Charlie Jingle. "Me and a California Rabbit are goin' into business together. Ruinin' Pugs, Inc."