Lovely thought at that moment that death on the rack would be a delight if it only could win a nod of approbation from Charley De Soto.
"How's your muscles?" asked Turkey. He ran his fingers over him, slapped his chest and punched his hips, saying:
"Hard as a rock, Charley."
"How's your wind?" said De Soto.
"Pretty well, thank you, sir," said Lovely, quite overcome by the august presence.
"Now keep your mind off things. Don't let the Gutter Pup bluff you. Slip over to the Upper, right after lights, and I'll take charge of the rest. By the way, Turk, who's in the corner with the Gutter Pup?"
"Billy Condit and the Triumphant Egghead."
"Good. We'll just saunter over and lay a little bet. So-long, youngster. No jiggers or éclairs. See you later."
"So-long, old Sporting Life," added Turkey, with a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Mind now, keep cheerful."
Lovely's mood was not exactly cheerful. In fact he felt as if the bottom had fallen out of things. He tried his best to follow Charley De Soto's advice and not think of the coming encounter, but, do what he would, his mind slipped ahead to the crowded baseball cage, the small, ill-lighted ring, and the Gutter Pup.