“I told them,” continued MacGregor, “that you were one of America’s most promising young boxers, but a little out of training.”
“Quite a little,” Johnny agreed.
“I said you and your boy pal would put on an exhibition match on deck tonight.”
Rusty shot him a look, but said never a word.
“I hope you understand,” the old man said soberly, “that I am asking you to do this for your own good.” He was talking to Rusty.
She bowed gravely. Then, of a sudden, her face brightened. “I hope they take us lightly,” she said. “That may give us a chance to escape.”
“That’s what it will,” MacGregor agreed. “And this boxin’ stunt is just the thing to put them off their guard.”
A half hour later, beneath a brilliant electric light, with a circle of dark faces about them, Johnny and Rusty shook hands for the first time in their lives, then drew on the gloves.
Johnny had boxed strange people in many an out-of-the-way place. Never before had he boxed with a girl. He was not sure he was going to like it now. But with MacGregor as manager of the strange affair, there was no turning back.
It was strange, there was no getting around that. A swaying light, a host of sober, brown faces, the gray fog hanging over all, made it seem fantastic indeed.