"Larry sure was game all through, yes—right up to the knock-out. A good, clean fighter. 'N' say, bo, I was real sorry to see him counted out."
"It meant a big purse for you, I remember."
"Oh, sure, I had money to burn. I ain't got much left now, though," said the Spider ruefully.
"You came pretty near being a world's champion, Spider."
"Aw—jest near enough t' miss it, I guess. Talkin' o' champeens, the greatest of 'em, th' best fightin' man as ever swung a mitt, I reckon was Joe Madden, as retired years ago. Nobody could ever lick Joe Madden."
"Did you know him?"
"Not me, bo, I wasn't in his class. But I seen him fight years ago."
"Do you think Spike will ever make a champion?" enquired Ravenslee suddenly. "I mean if he were given every chance?"
"Well," answered the Spider slowly, "he sure has the grit; ther ain't nothin' on two legs he's afraid of except—himself, bo. He's too high-strung. Nerves is his trouble, I reckon. Why, Chee! When he's in d' ring he can't be still a minute, can't let himself rest between rounds, see? He kinder beats himself, I guess."
"I know what you mean," nodded Ravenslee, "and I'm sure you're right. By the way, have you ever seen M'Ginnis fight?"