"Holliday's going to be champion some day," Dunham went unconcernedly on. "He's bound to be, whether we want him or not. But Montague comes first. Montague's been a good boy. We merely require your agreement to meet him should you dispose of Holliday, that is all. And since that is assured--" He waved a fat hand. "Personally I believe that Montague is very much better than you are--no offense intended--and against him you can take care of yourself." Rapidly Perry cast it up. They were that confident of Holliday's superiority! And they didn't care whether he suspected their game or not; they weren't even bothering to work carefully. He could take it or leave it. He'd have to. That rank! That coarse! It was an easy sum. Two and two made four. "Whatever agreement is fixed between you and Holliday is no affair of mine," he decided at last. "When?" "A month--five weeks." "How much?" Dunham pondered. "Twenty thousand. We'll give you five for your share." They were that cool! "Not me." "A twenty-thousand-dollar purse seems reasonable," ruminated Dunham. "It may not be a popular match. And Holliday'll come high." "That's your affair. I'll fight one way." Dunham lifted an eyebrow. "Well?" "Winner take all." "But you're certain to win! The fight'll be fixed!" Perry sensed then how greatly the gross man wanted to laugh. Not bother to train? That old one! Did Dunham really think he was taking him at his word? Why, his mind in all the days to come would be riveted on just one thing--that eighth round. He wanted to laugh, too, bitterly. Did they think he was that innocent! "That's your affair," he repeated. "I fight winner take all." There are some who insist that Pig-iron Dunham was not without a virtue. His next words seem to prove it. "Better take your five thousand," he suggested good-naturedly. "It's better than nothing. Holliday could double-cross us." That cool! "Winner take all," droned Perry. "Winner take all!" Dunham snapped. And that afternoon they signed articles, Hamilton acting for Blair. The same night Perry told Felicity what he had done. "So I--I'll either have twenty thousand dollars in a month or so," he made bad work of it, "or I'll know that I'm never likely to have it. If you--if you'll wait . . . I'm glad you like the country. I've always wanted a ranch." Felicity was needlessly callous, either because it made her despise herself a little for the part she had played, or because she was just Felicity. Surely she was more brutal than she need have been. For she sat, chin propped upon one hand, and stared derisively into the boy's self-conscious eyes. "You poor hick!" she said deliberately. "You poor cross-roads hick! Twenty thousand dollars? Why, that's chicken-feed compared with my price."