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 would claim that, as neither boy could of known that a fuse was gonna blow out, the break was as fair for one as the other, and Capato had simply been lucky, or clever, enough to beat the Kid to the punch. The rest of the mob wouldn't know what it was all about, but they'd see the Kid on the floor, and that would be ample. Remember, it was Tiger Capato's home town!

As to this "lights out" stuff, any sportin' editor can supply names and dates of duplicates of the above sportsmanlike trick from his files to such gentle readers which is now grinnin' and callin' it impossible.

Well, as the time drawed near for the fight, I got crazier every day. I was afraid to tell Carney I'm wise to his plant for fear he'd call the bout off altogether and give the champ the excuse he was lookin' for to duck a battle with us. To make it worse, when I told the Kid what I'd found out, he laughed his head off and refused to believe it!

"Your mind has been preying on Dummy Carney for so long you'd believe anything!" he chortles. "Why, the thing's too preposterous to give a passing thought. Besides, you say yourself that your source of information was a drunken man, and you know an intoxicated person usually has a wonderful imagination. Not even a Carney would dare attempt anything as glaringly trooked as that—personally, I think the champion's manager has been joshin' you!"

Sweet Papa!

Any doubts I might of had about it myself was all wiped away in New Orleans a few hours before the clash, when word comes to our room that a lady has