They spoke no more that night, undressing in silence, each covertly swelling his muscles and glancing with stolen looks at his opponent's knotted torso. By morning the Gutter Pup's serenity had returned. "Well, how're you feeling? How did you sleep?" he asked, poking his nose over the coverlets. "Like a log," returned Lovely, lying gloriously. "Good. Better take a nap in the afternoon, though, if you're not used to midnight scrapping." "Thanks." "Mind the food--no hot biscuits, and that sort of thing. A dish of popovers almost put me to the bad the first time I met Bull Dunham. Fact, and he didn't know enough to counter." Lovely dressed and hurriedly left the room. At two o'clock, to his amazement, Charley De Soto, the great quarterback, in person, waited on him in company with the gigantic Turkey Reiter, tackle on the eleven, and informed him that they had been appointed his seconds and anxiously inquired after his welfare. "I--oh, I'm doing pretty well, thank you, sir," said Lovely, overcome with embarrassment and pride. "Say, Charley," said Turkey, after an approving examination, "I kind of hanker to the looks of this here bantam. He's got the proper colour hair and the protruding jaw. Danged if I don't believe he'll give the Gutter Pup the fight of his life." "Can you lick him?" said De Soto, looking Lovely tensely in the eyes. "I'll do it or die," said Lovely, with a lump in his throat. "Good, but mind this, youngster: no funking. I don't stand second to any quitter. If I'm behind you, you've _got_ to win." Lovely thought at that moment that death on the rack would be a delight if it only could win a nod of approbation from Charley De Soto. "How's your muscles?" asked Turkey. He ran his fingers over him, slapped his chest and punched his hips, saying: "Hard as a rock, Charley." "How's your wind?" said De Soto. "Pretty well, thank you, sir," said Lovely, quite overcome by the august presence. "Now keep your mind off things. Don't let the Gutter Pup bluff you. Slip over to the Upper, right after lights, and I'll take charge of the rest. By the way, Turk, who's in the corner with the Gutter Pup?" "Billy Condit and the Triumphant Egghead." "Good. We'll just saunter over and lay a little bet. So-long, youngster. No jiggers or éclairs. See you later." "So-long, old Sporting Life," added Turkey, with a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Mind now, keep cheerful." Lovely's mood was not exactly cheerful. In fact he felt as if the bottom had fallen out of things. He tried his best to follow Charley De Soto's advice and not think of the coming encounter, but, do what he would, his mind slipped ahead to the crowded baseball cage, the small, ill-lighted ring, and the Gutter Pup. "After all, will he lick me?" he said, almost aloud. His heart sank, or rather it was a depression in the pit of his stomach.