It was almost a month later that young Davy and Peter were in another fight; what they didn't know was that someone was watching the fight intensly.

Davy, despite his discriminating height, fended off his attackers with such force and determination that he nearly frightened himself.

When the boys that Peter and Davy were fighting ran off in surrender, the man who'd been watching approached the two young men....

"Uh, 'scuse me, what's your name, son?" the man addressed Davy; he was tall and lanky, and wore a green wool hat.

"What's it t' you?" Davy asked in defense. Peter didn't like this guy...at all...

"Well, with fighting like that, my boy, you could be making your career!" the man drawled.

"Davy Jones; staht talkin'," Davy demanded.

The man introduced himself as Michael Nesmith and he was looking to manage a good young boxer and help them make it to the big time. He said Davy had fists of iron and gold, and that he could become a well-known boxer.

Back at the old shack that Peter and Davy called home, Peter regarded his brown-haired friend seriously.

"You're not really gonna take his offer, are ya? He seems too...I dunno quite what, but I don't trust him," Peter said.

"It sounds good; fame,money..... everythin' I wanted when I came t' America. I don't LOVE fightin', but if I can profit from it, I might as well take it," Davy answered his friend with only the upmost sincerity.

Peter cast his glance downward....

"Well, even though I don't like your descision I still wish you the best of luck," Peter replied, taking Davy's hand in his and giving it a squeeze before he walked out of the room, leaving the younger boy to pack and think....

continued