The young man never had been affiliated with the gang, as

his escutcheon was defiled with a record of steady employment.

So Billy had known nothing of the sparring lessons his

young neighbor had taken, or of the work he had done at

the down-town gymnasium of Larry Hilmore.

Now it happened that while the new light-weight was unknown

to the charmed circle of the gang, Billy knew him fairly

well by reason of the proximity of their respective parental

back yards, and so when the glamour of pugilistic success

haloed the young man Billy lost no time in basking in the

light of reflected glory.

He saw much of his new hero all the following winter.

He accompanied him to many mills, and on one glorious occasion

occupied a position in the coming champion's corner.

When the prize fighter toured, Billy continued to hang around

Hilmore's place, running errands and doing odd jobs, the

while he picked up pugilistic lore, and absorbed the spirit of the

game along with the rudiments and finer points of its science,

almost unconsciously. Then his ambition changed. Once he

had longed to shine as a gunman; now he was determined

to become a prize fighter; but the old gang still saw much of

him, and he was a familiar figure about the saloon corners

along Grand Avenue and Lake Street.

During this period Billy neglected the box cars on Kinzie

Street, partially because he felt that he was fitted for more

dignified employment, and as well for the fact that the railroad

company had doubled the number of watchmen in the yards;

but there were times when he felt the old yearning for

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