Like the chair,
the Spider was somewhat exotic as to socks and tie, and he seemed a
trifle irked by stiff cuffs and collar as he sat staring at the green
and yellow tablecloth and doing his best not to tread upon the pink
hearthrug.
"Joe," said Ravenslee, "this is Spider Connolly, who knocked out Larry
McKinnon at San Francisco last year in the sixty-ninth. Spider, I want
you to shake hands with--"
"Bo," exclaimed the Spider, rising reverently and taking a step toward
Joe's massive figure, quite forgetful of the pink hearthrug now, "you
don't have t' tell me nothin'. I guess I know th' best all-round
fightin' man, the greatest champion as ever swung a mitt, when I see
him! T' shake his hand'll sure be--"
"Young feller, me lad," cried the Old Un, reaching out nimbly and
catching the Spider's extended hand, "you got a sharp eye, a true eye--a
eye as can discrimpinate, like--ah, like a flash o' light. You're right,
me lad, I was the best fightin' man, the greatest champeen as ever
was--sixty odd years ago. Ho, yus, I were the best of 'em all, an' I
ain't t' be sniffed at now.
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