"Well, Mike, I am that fellow; an' that's what ye gave me." Jim raised his chin and showed an irregular scar.
"Well sure, that's the Gospel truth"; and Michael grinned. "By gosh, that's the time I had to skip out of Chicago. A little election fuss ye understand," and he chuckled. "Set down. What'll ye drink?" and the huge hand swung two chairs within reach.
"No," said Jim. "I'm not drinking to-day; but I want to tell you that I was only a kid when you licked me. I swore that some day I'd meet you and have another try. Well, I've filled out some in the last seven years, an' some day, when ye feel like it, we might put on the gloves together."
Mike chuckled, "Now you're talking! What's the matter with right now?" and he pointed to a room farther back. "But, say, ye ain't in training, are ye?"
"No; are you?"
"No."
"Then come on."
Mike opened the next door and led the way into a larger room, with the fixings of a regular boxing academy, followed by his friends and one or two additional customers from the bar room.
Hopkins followed Hartigan, and was filled, apparently, with strange and mixed emotions. "Really, Mr. Hartigan, as President of the Board of Deacons, I must protest against this whole shocking procedure." Then, in a different tone: "But, as a man, by jinks! I'm going to see it through."
"Why not?" said Jim. "Sure it's simple and easy. In about three rounds, I'll get him or he'll get me; then we'll shake hands and all be good friends ever after. It couldn't have happened better."