His eyes wandered across the ropes to the sea of faces turned up toward him, and all of a sudden Billy Byrne went into a blue funk. Professor Cassidy, shrewd and experienced, saw it even as soon as Billy realized it--he saw the fading of his high hopes--he saw his castles in Spain tumbling in ruins about his ears--he saw his huge giant lying prone within that squared circle as the hand of the referee rose and fell in cadence to the ticking of seconds that would count his man out. “Here,” he whispered, “take a swig o' this,” and he pressed a bottle toward Billy's lips. Billy shook his head. The stuff had kept him down all his life--he had sworn never to touch another drop of it, and he never would, whether he lost this and every other fight he ever fought. He had sworn to leave it alone for HER sake! And then the gong called him to the center of the ring. Billy knew that he was afraid--he thought that he was afraid of the big, trained fighter who faced him; but Cassidy knew that it was a plain case of stage fright that had gripped his man. He knew, too, that it would be enough to defeat Billy's every chance for victory, and after the big “white hope” had felled Billy twice in the first minute of the first round Cassidy knew that it was all over but the shouting. The fans, many of them, were laughing, and yelling derogatory remarks at Billy. “Stan' up an' fight, yeh big stiff!” and “Back to de farm fer youse!” and then, high above the others a shrill voice cried “Coward! Coward!” The word penetrated Billy's hopeless, muddled brain. Coward! SHE had called him that once, and then she had changed her mind. Theriere had thought him a coward, yet as he died he had said that he was the bravest man he ever had known. Billy recalled the yelling samurai with their keen swords and terrible spears. He saw the little room in the “palace” of Oda Yorimoto, and again he faced the brown devils who had hacked and hewed and stabbed at him that day as he fought to save the woman he loved. Coward! What was there in this padded ring for a man to fear who had faced death as Billy had faced it, and without an instant's consciousness of the meaning of the word fear? What was wrong with him, and then the shouts and curses and taunts of the crowd smote upon his ears, and he knew. It was the crowd! Again the heavy fist of the “coming champion” brought Billy to the mat, and then, before further damage could be done him, the gong saved him.