"Hoh," sniffed Miss Starbird airily, "you don’t need to have any." "Well, don’t you see," said Shorty, "I’m in training. I don’t dare eat any of that kinda stuff." "Stuff!" exclaimed Miss Starbird, her chin in the air. "No one _else_ ever called my cooking stuff." "Well, don’t you see, don’t you see." "No, I don’t see. I guess you must be ’fraid of getting whipped if you’re so ’fraid of a little salad." "What!" exclaimed Shorty, indignantly. "Why I could come into the ring from a jag and whip him; ’fraid! _who’s_ afraid. I’ll show you if I’m afraid. Let’s have your potato salad, an’ some beer, too. Huh! _I’ll_ show you if I’m afraid." But Miss Starbird would not immediately consent to be appeased. "No, you called it stuff," she said, "an’ the superintendent said I was the best cook in Placer County." But at last, as a great favour to Shorty, she relented and brought the potato salad from the kitchen and two bottles of beer. When the town doctor had finished his paper on "Tuberculosis in Cattle," the chairman of the entertainment committee ducked under the ropes of the ring and announced that: "The next would be the event of the evening and would the gentlemen please stop smoking." He went on to explain that the ladies present might remain without fear and without reproach as the participants in the contest would appear in gymnasium tights, and would box with gloves and not with bare knuckles. "Well, don’t they always fight with gloves?" called a voice from the rear of the house. But the chairman ignored the interruption. The "entertainment" was held in the Odd Fellows’ Hall. Shorty’s seconds prepared him for the fight in a back room of the saloon, on the other side of the street, and towards ten o’clock one of the committeemen came running in to say: "What’s the matter? Hurry up, you fellows, McCleaverty’s in the ring already, and the crowd’s beginning to stamp." Shorty rose and slipped into an overcoat. "All ready," he said. "Now mind, Shorty," said Billy Hicks, as he gathered up the sponges, fans and towels, "don’t mix things with him, you don’t have to knock him out, all you want’s the decision." Next, Shorty was aware that he was sitting in a corner of the ring with his back against the ropes, and that diagonally opposite was a huge red man with a shaven head. There was a noisy, murmuring crowd somewhere below him, and there was a glare of kerosene lights over his head. "Buck McCleaverty, the Pride of Colusa," announced the master of ceremonies, standing in the middle of the ring, one hand under the dub’s elbow. There was a ripple of applause. Then the master of ceremonies came over to Shorty’s corner, and, taking him by the arm, conducted him into the middle of the ring.