Rivera shook his head.
Danny exploded. He was getting down to brass tacks now.
"Why, you dirty little greaser! I've a mind to knock your block
off right now."
Roberts drawled his body to interposition between hostilities.
"Winner takes all," Rivera repeated sullenly.
"Why do you stand out that way?" Danny asked.
"I can lick you," was the straight answer.
Danny half started to take off his coat. But, as his manager
knew, it was a grand stand play. The coat did not come off, and
Danny allowed himself to be placated by the group. Everybody
sympathized with him. Rivera stood alone.
"Look here, you little fool," Kelly took up the argument.
"You're nobody. We know what you ve been doing the last few
months--putting away little local fighters. But Danny is class.
His next fight after this will be for the championship. And
you're unknown. Nobody ever heard of you out of Los Angeles."
"They will," Rivera answered with a shrug, "after this fight."
"You think for a second you can lick me?" Danny blurted in.
Rivera nodded.
"Oh, come; listen to reason," Kelly pleaded. "Think of the
advertising."
"I want the money," was Rivera's answer.
"You couldn't win from me in a thousand years," Danny assured
him.
"Then what are you holdin' out for?" Rivera countered. "If the
money's that easy, why don't you go after it?"
"I will, so help me!" Danny cried with abrupt conviction. "I'Il
beat you to death in the ring, my boy--you monkeyin' with me
this way. Make out the articles, Kelly. Winner take all. Play
it up in the sportin' columns. Tell 'em it's a grudge fight.
I'll show this fresh kid a few."
Kelly's secretary had begun to write, when Danny interrupted.
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