"I am told," he said quietly and firmly, "that you are a fighter. Your mind seems to dwell upon physical combat as the solution to all questions. Now, Conlan, I'm no scrapper, but I'll fight you to a finish any time within the next three minutes to see who gets the girl. If I win she goes with me. If you win you have your way, and I'll not trouble her again. Are you game?" Danny Conlan's hard, blue eyes looked a sudden admiration. "You're all right," he conceded with gruff candour. "I didn't think you was that sort. You're all right. It's a dead fair sporting prop., and I'm your company. I'll stand by the results according to terms. Come on, and I'll show you where it can be pulled off. You're all right." Katie tried to interfere, but Danny silenced her. He led Holcombe down the hill to a deep gully that sheltered them from view. Night was just closing in upon the twilight. They laid aside their coats and hats. Here was a situation in the methodical existence of Lawrence Holcombe, real estate and bond broker, representative business man of unquestionable habits and social position! Fighting with a professional tough in a gully in a squalid settlement for the daughter of an Irish washerwoman! The combat was a short one. If it had lasted longer, Holcombe would have lost, for both his wind and his science had deteriorated from long lack of training. Therefore, he forced the fighting from the start. It is difficult to say to what he owed his victory over the once champion middleweight. One thing in his favour was that Mr. Conlan's nerve and judgment had been somewhat shattered by the effects of a recent spree. Another must have been that Holcombe was stimulated to supreme exertion by an absorbing incentive to win--a prompting more powerful than the instinct of the gladiator, deeper than all the motives of gallantry, and more important than the vital influence of love itself. A third fortuitous adjunct was, without doubt, a chance blow upon the projecting chin of the middleweight, under which that warrior sank to the gully's grime and remained incapable, while Holcombe stood above him and leisurely counted him out. Danny got shakily to his feet, and proved to be a true sport. "You're all right," he said. "But if we'd had it by rounds 'twould have ended different. The girl goes with you, do you see? I'm on the square." They climbed back to the cottage. "It's settled," announced Holcombe. "Mr. Conlan removes his objections." "That's straight," said Danny. "He's all right." Holcombe had only a scratched and slightly reddened chin from a vicious, glancing uppercut from Danny's left. Danny showed punishment. One eye was nearly closed. His lip was bleeding.