"I'm Charlie Murray--if that means anything to you. And, believe me, son, I know that something beside the licking you got out there is worrying you. That's why I followed you here. Let's have it; come on, tell me what's wrong. It'll make you feel better." Before he really knew it, John was telling him his story. "That's the reason I made a fool of myself," he said. "I couldn't help crying like that. I guess I was too far gone. I don't know what to do now. It will break my mother's heart when she sees me in this condition. It would have helped if I could have handed her enough to pay the funeral expenses. "I don't know why I've told you all this. Making more of a fool of myself, I suppose." Murray listened to it all, silently. Then he rose and went to the door. "Oh, Murphy," he called, putting his head out the dressing room door. The youth with the twisted nose whom John remembered as his second answered Murray's call. "Fix this boy up, Murphy," said Murray. "Patch up his face the best you can and keep him here until I get back. Understand, keep him here until I get back. Don't let him out of your sight." "I heardja, boss, I heardja," said Murphy. And Murray hurried out, leaving John wondering, in Murphy's hands. * * * * * It was just before the main event that Murray came down the aisle and climbed into the ring, brushing the referee announcer, seconds and others into the corners. He stood in the center of the ring and held up his hand for silence. The crowd quieted. "What is it, Charlie?" someone shouted. "It's this, boys," he said. "I've just had a talk with the Gallant kid, who was knocked kicking a few minutes ago by Battling Rodriguez. You saw the fight he put up and you know it's only a good, game kid that can fight like that. "I don't know how many of you saw it, but the Gallant kid--that's his real name, John Gallant--was crying when he went out of this ring and he wasn't bawling because he got licked, either. "I'll tell you what he told me back there in the dressing rooms. Do you know why he was here fighting, tonight? He was here to get enough money to pay for his father's funeral. He had to have the money given to the winner and he lost. He didn't tell his poor little mother he was coming out here. He wanted to surprise her. "Now, boys, the only surprise he'll take home to her is a battered face unless you want to surprise him with--" A silver dollar spun through the smoke-filled air and hit the canvas at Murray's feet. That started it. For a full two minutes the air was thick with flying coins. They clinked and rolled around in the ring. Bills weighted with coins caromed along the canvas floor. Murray and a few others collected the money and counted it, standing in the ring. "Is it enough?" asked a voice from the crowd. Murray looked up with a broad smile. His hat, held in his hands, was brimming with the money picked from the floor of the ring.