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 woman and the mother of four children. She—eh—ah—she is afraid—well, she—this may sound absurd to you, but it didn't to me, not with the pathetic eagerness she told it! She had a dream last night in which she saw Capato—her husband—knocked out. As I say, you will smile, but, nevertheless, that woman is convinced that Capato is going to lose. I—ah—wish I were as certain!" he adds, with a short laugh. "However, she has asked me to do her a favor, which, under the circumstances, I could not well refuse. I—"

"For God's sake, what have you promised her, Kid?" I bawls, grabbin' him.

"Don't get excited!" he says, movin' away irritably. "As she explains it, Capato is married and has children. Prize fighting is his profession—it's the only thing he has ever done or can do well enough to make a living. He's a big favorite in this town, and a quick defeat would hurt his value to the clubs here to a great extent. Capato's wife simply wants me to allow him to make some kind of a showing for a few rounds—I tell you, she is as certain that he will ultimately lose as I am of my name! She sat there and repeated it over and over in a dull, toneless voice, with the fatalistic calm that is peculiar to the superstitious. You do not understand her type—I do. So, therefore, I will—"

"You'll knock Capato dead with the first punch if you can, or you'll leave the ring on a shutter!" I howls, dancin' around him. "You big fathead, don't you see now that Jack Easton's dope was right? They got that lights-out stunt framed for the fourth round, and she