He lifted the boy to his feet.
As he pounded at the punching bag a few minutes later he promised himself that this would be his one and only fight in a ring, for his mother's sake.
That night, when he left for Vernon, he told her his first deliberate lie.
* * * * *
He was in his corner. A scrawny youth with a twisted nose, a jersey sweater and a husky voice was tying on his gloves.
"Wot's your name, kid?"
The announcer was bending over him.
"Gallant," he answered, after hesitating. The announcer turned and crossed to the opposite corner of the ring and John's eyes followed him. He saw his opponent, a thick-shouldered Mexican, with flashing black eyes, gleaming white teeth, a broad, deep chest tapering to a slender waist.
The Mexican returned his appraising look, and sneered.
Arc lamps threw a heated white light down to the canvas floor of the ring. The chatter and rumble of voices came up from the crowd. He looked out past the ropes and saw faces—hundreds of them—dimly through clouds of tobacco smoke. He could only distinguish those at the ringside. He saw Charlie Chaplin, the famous film comedian, looking at him. There was Jack Dempsey, the world's ring champion, towering up in his seat. There was——