“How are yer?” said Hegner.
The touch of the fellow’s hand gave Merry a feeling of repulsion. He dropped it almost instantly.
“Mr. Hegner is Burk’s trainer, you know,” explained Creighton. “You remember what I was telling you last night about Hank Burk going against Tom Jackson?”
“Yes, I remember,” nodded Merry. “I believe you said this Jackson is backed by the Olympic Club?”
“Yes, they are the challenging parties. They think Jackson can whip his weight in wildcats, and it is their boast that he will hammer the best man Fairmount can put up all over the ring. Mr. Hegner has been handling Burk nearly six weeks, and has him in the pink of condition. He says our man will give Jackson the biggest surprise he ever struck. If it was to be with hard gloves, it’s more than even Burk would knock Jackson out in four rounds. But we——”
“Oh, Charlie!” exclaimed his sister; “what do you suppose we care about that! You can talk of those things at the club, and you are there the most of the time.”
“I beg your pardon,” laughed Creighton. “I forgot the young ladies present. They do not care for boxing.”
“Some of them do,” said Fanny Darling, quickly. “I like a fellow who can handle his fists scientifically and take care of himself. That’s why I admire Mr. Hegner so much.”
“Thank you,” Hegner bowed, with great gravity. “The manly art is worth acquiring, if it were useful only to protect young ladies from insult.”
“Haw!” grunted Hodge. “There are some fellows who can box a little, and yet do not make a great spread about it.”