Shorty came up bravely. In his stomach there was a pain that made it torture to stand erect. Nevertheless he rushed, lashing out right and left. He was dizzy; before he knew it he was beating the air. Suddenly his chin jolted backward, and the lights began to spin; he was tiring rapidly, too, and with every second his arms grew heavier and heavier and his knees began to tremble more and more. McCleaverty gave him no rest. Shorty tried to clinch, but the dub sidestepped, and came in twice with a hard right and left over the heart. Shorty’s gloves seemed made of iron; he found time to mutter, "If I only hadn’t eaten that stuff last night." What with the nausea and the pain, he was hard put to it to keep from groaning. It was the dub who was rushing now; Shorty felt he could not support the weight of his own arms another instant. What was that on his face that was warm and tickled? He knew that he had just strength enough left for one more good blow; if he could only upper-cut squarely on McCleaverty’s chin it might suffice. "_Break!_" The referee thrust himself between them, but instantly McCleaverty closed again. Would the round _never_ end? The dub swung again, missed, and Shorty saw his chance; he stepped in, upper-cutting with all the strength he could summon up. The lights swam again, and the roar of the crowd dwindled to a couple of voices. He smelt whisky. "Gimme that sponge." It was Billy Hicks voice. "He’ll do all right now." Shorty suddenly realised that he was lying on his back. In another second he would be counted out. He raised himself, but his hands touched a bed quilt and not the resined floor of the ring. He looked around him and saw that he was in the back room of the saloon where he had dressed. The fight was over. "Did I win?" he asked, getting on his feet. "Win!" exclaimed Billy Hicks. "You were knocked out. He put you out after you had him beaten. Oh, you’re a peach of a fighter, you are!" * * * * * Half an hour later when he had dressed, Shorty went over to the Hall. His lip was badly swollen and his chin had a funny shape, but otherwise he was fairly presentable. The Iowa Hill orchestra had just struck into the march for the walk around. He pushed through the crowd of men around the door looking for Miss Starbird. Just after he had passed he heard a remark and the laugh that followed it: "Quitter, oh, what a quitter!" Shorty turned fiercely about and would have answered, but just at that moment he caught sight of Miss Starbird. She had just joined the promenade or the walk around with some other man. He went up to her: "Didn’t you promise to have this walk around with me?" he said aggrievedly. "Well, did you think I was going to wait all night for you?" returned Miss Starbird. As she turned from him and joined the march Shorty’s eye fell upon her partner. It was McCleaverty. _*The Strangest Thing*_