text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/308

 captain looked worried, whilst me and Ptomaine felt low enough to walk under a worm with high hats on!

The minute the sailor hit the dishpan for round one, the mate lowers his head and bores into the Kid, which was busy tryin' to keep his balance on the deck. The champion easily blocked a wild right swing, but slipped on the rollin' deck in duckin' a left to the jaw. Kid Roberts fell on his back, his head strikin' with a sickenin' thump! The sailors danced around, bellerin' like savages for the captain to count the Kid out, but the skipper refused, on the grounds that the mate had nothin' what the so ever to do with Kid Roberts goin' down. The captain was a good egg, at that. Although badly stunned, Kid Roberts had the born fighter's instinct to try and get up till knocked dead! The champion struggled to his feet, swayin' dizzily and at sea in more ways than one. With his shipmates howlin' for a knockout, the mate rushed the groggy and almost defenceless Kid, sprayin' him with terrible lefts and rights. Kid Roberts, bleedin' from nose and mouth, tried a left to the wind. The lead was short and another lurch of the vessel again sent him to his knees. The Kid grabbed the mate around the waist and pulled himself up, then stepped back and threw a hard right at the mate's jaw. Still dazed by his first fall, he missed by a foot and the mate dropped him with a poisonous right, flush to the chin.

Kid Roberts lay on his side with closed eyes, whilst the captain begin to count with a serious face. You couldn't hear him over the shrieks of the sailors, but you could hear me and Ptomaine screamin' that

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/308


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/309

 the whole thing was as foul as the air in a sewer—knocked almost unconscious by that bump he got on the head when he slipped to the deck at the start, what kind of a chance did the Kid have? The skipper reached "five!" without a move from Kid Roberts, beyond the quiverin' of his muscles and the openin' of his eyes which stared up glassily at the sky. I looked wildly round and seen a fire bucket next to the white-faced, speechless Angela Yerkes—as out of place there as a tuxedo in Sing Sing. "Seven!" roars the captain. "The water—the water!" I yelled at Angela, pointin' to the bucket. That girl was no Dumb Dora! She got me like a flash and grabbin' up the fire bucket, drenched the prostrate champion with the water. The Kid blinked, was on one knee at "nine!" and clinched with the angrily protestin' mate before "ten!" left the captain's mouth. That ended round one, Allah be praised!

Led by the mate, the sailors rushed to the captain and claimed the fight on the account of Angela throwin' the water on Kid Roberts. The skipper heard 'em for a minute in cold silence. Then he pulled out a gun and Angela produced hers from her trusty handbag. Before that imposin' array of artillery and the skipper's stern promise that he'd perforate the lot of 'em if they didn't get back in line inside of a minute, these bullies quailed and the clangin' of the dishpan for round two sent 'em scurryin' back to the fight. In the confusion, Ptomaine Joe disappears somewheres and leaves me all alone.

The second and last round was worth a hundred

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/309


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/310

 bucks of anybody's money for a ringside seat and all it cost the sailors was a month's work. As they came together, Kid Roberts floored the mate with a stiff left hook to the jaw. The sailor took a count of four and when he got up he fell again without' bein' hit. He rose quickly and missed a right swing but connected with a wicked left which sent Kid Roberts staggerin' back against the ring of tars which formed the ropes. Rushin' over to finish him, the mate run into a torrid right uppercut which flopped him to the deck once more. He was still on one knee at "ten!", but was in there fightin' again before the captain could make his shouts heard that the fight was over! Another left hook and the mate kissed the boards again. This time for "six". When he got on his feet he rushed Kid Roberts, stingin' the champ with two fearful rights to the ribs. They clinched. On the break, both missed lefts and the Kid slipped to his hands and knees as the result of the miss-spent effort and a roll of the ship. The mate clipped him on the top of the head with a right as he was gettin' up, but a foul in that fight was just a small incident!

They stepped warily around each other for a couple of seconds and then the Kid whipped over a right to the jaw that upset the mate for the fifth time. That baby was as tough as a life sentence and a punishment addict if there ever was one! After a count of "seven" he got to his feet and went down for the sixth time when Kid Roberts reached him with a left to the side of the head. Once again this baby—both the dirtiest and gamest fighter I ever seen—got up, but even his

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/310


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/311

 cheerin' crew could see he was weary. Tired from his own efforts to stop this guy, sick from the crack he got on the head from the hard deck boards and almost punched out, Kid Roberts attempted to clinch. With a dyin' spurt, the mate pushed him off and swung his right to the jaw. The Kid was a fraction of a second too late in blockin' the blow and it crashed him down on all fours, with the mate nearly fallin' on top of him as the force of his own punch carried him forward. What a fight—seven knockdowns in one round and that round not over yet!

Kid Roberts took the full count of nine before arisin' and when he did, the mate, encouraged by this sudden turn of the tide, rushed and hit him with a right chop to the jaw which dazed the champion. Both was practically out on their feet! Kid Roberts shook his head to clear it and missed a left, but ducked a whizzin' right in return. The mate was short with a left hook and Kid Roberts shot over a right cross which put him flat on his shoulder-blades for his seventh trip to the boards. The mate was punch-drunk when he slowly stood erect after a count of eight and the Kid stepped in with a sizzlin' left which shook him from head to heels. Before the reelin' mate knew what it was all about, Kid Roberts then set himself and tossed a terrific right to the point of the jaw and it was all over!

At "ten" there ain't the suspicion of movement in the mate's carcass and actin' on the captain's orders, the crew drenched him with water like Angela had drenched Kid Roberts. But Niagara Falls wouldn't

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/311


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/312

 of brung the sailor back to life! He was through, as even his disappointed shipmates was forced to admit. The skipper then informed 'em that as their charmin' mate had been knocked out they had to work a month for nothin', or else go to jail for kidnappin' us. They milled around, angrily talkin' things over and some of 'em was for lockin' the captain in his cabin and takin' charge themselves. At that minute, Ptomaine returned to the scene and the looks we got from the crew was homicidal!

Somebody knocked the captain's gun out of his hand and matters was rapidly reachin' the critical stage. Kid Roberts had enjoyed plenty fightin' for that evenin', the captain was a old man and Angela a girl. That left only me and Ptomaine to give them roughnecks any kind of a argument and what a swell chance we had, unarmed, against twenty or thirty plug uglies. Good night!

It was right here that Ptomaine come to the front and saved the day—likewise, all our skins. Suddenly sniffin' the air, he broke away from the mob and dashed below decks. I knew that guy well enough to be certain he wasn't leavin' us to our fate, but what I didn't know was the ace he had in the hole. In a few minutes, Ptomaine returns and with a broad grin he mounts the hatch beside the captain and invites the crew, which surrounded the grim-faced skipper, to step down to the forecastle. The appetizin' odor of well-cooked food is already competin' successfully with the salt tang in the air! The two guys Ptomaine had previously fed was hep right away and rushed below,

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/312


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/313

 with the other hungry sailors at their heels. We followed the crowd and reached the forecastle in time to see Ptomaine pointin' with pride to the mess table groanin' under the weight of eats he'd cooked up whilst the fight was goin' on. The Chinese cook is tied to a post, fifteen stilettos on each glance he give us!

Well, one look and one smell was enough for the starved sailors and forgettin' their rage they dove in with glad yells, fairly wolfin' down the food. We left 'em gorgin' and come up on deck for air, everybody congratulatin' the highly pleased Ptomaine on havin' cooked our way out of a extremely ticklish situation. The much relieved captain headed the ship back for the dock and Ptomaine begins writin' out recipes for chafin' dish specialties for Angela Yerkes, at her urgent request.

When Angela fin'ly went in the captain's cabin to concoct her sensational story for the "Morning Shriek" and Kid Roberts was himself again, we're leanin' over the rail, watchin' the lights of Frisco loom up on the water. Each is busy with his own thoughts and I broke the silence.

"Phew—what a night!" I says, "Well, anyways, we leave this burg to-morrow, thank—"

"Where d'ye get that we stuff?" butts in Ptomaine, "You mean you leave! To-morrow I'm goin' to show Angela how to cook chicken à la king at her apartment and after that we're goin' to a seven-reel picture, so I may never leave here. I talk a mean movie and I can do myself a lot of good in seven reels!"

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/313


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/314

a wise-crackin' English actor which tore off his last nifty about a hundred and sixty years ago, was once overheard to make the followin' bald statement:

"Oh, how many torments lie in the small circle of a wedding ring!"

"Well, boys and girls, I never had the pleasure of seein' Colley act, as in 1764 I was far too young to be allowed in a theatre, but the above remark convinces me that Hon. Cibber knew what it was all about! Bein' a manager of box fighters, rings is my speciality and I'm satisfied there's twice and a half as many battles fought in the ever popular weddin' ring as there is in the prize ring in a given year. Ask the man who owns one! Don't get the idea that I'm against the matrimonial racket, because that would be doin' me a injustice and I hate to be done a injustice, don't you? In the contrary, I'm a full-blooded groom myself and even if me and my cute little sparrin' partner does disturb the neighbors now and then, I'm

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/314


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/315

 one of wedlock's most inveterate fans and I don't hesitate to predict a great success for it!

However, there's no gettin' away from the fact that the muffled "I do!" drags difficulties into a man's life which he never had before. The course of true love is no Lincoln Highway and if you think it is you're crazy! You can't expect little wifie to "Yes" you forever and a day—I wouldn't give two counterfeit marks for one which did. But there comes a time in every bride's life when she should stand by her hubby, no matter whether the dizzy old ball and chain is right or not! She should put her own feelin's in her beaded bag for the moment and throw in with the boy for better or worse, as per her contract. Most of 'em do—wives is a great race of people—but some of 'em don't and it's one of these I'm goin' to tell you about, as it's too late to go anywheres now.

A few months after we come back to Gotham from that exhibition-bout tour of the country, I signed Kid Roberts to defend his crown against Guardsman Blue, the European title-holder. This English heavy was somethin' entirely different from the average champ which comes over here from the old country to display his wares. The jolly old Guardsman had one trick alone which made him a first-class curiosity amongst the foreign title-holders—he had conquered the dread habit of kissin' the canvas, with which the bulk of them babies is afflicted. In his first start over here, Monsieur Blue dumfounded the skeptical sport writers by stoppin' Bob Young, the ex-champion, in six rounds. Two months later he rocked Battlin' Miller to sleep in

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/315


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/316

 four hectic frames, and, Miller, which had been picked as the next logical opponent for Kid Roberts, was nobody's fool!

In both these pettin' parties, the Guardsman showed enough stuff to make the experts sit erect and pay flatterin' attention. Two of the said experts was me and Kid Roberts, which viewed the Briton's melee with Battlin' Miller. In that brawl, Guardsman Blue showed everything! He was a sweet puncher, a pretty boxer and as tough as a epidemic of smallpox. The clout which put a end to Battlin' Miller's championship hopes was a murderous right uppercut to the chin which crashed through the unfortunate Battler's guard and etherized him for a good ten minutes! Both me and the Kid was very thankful when we filed out of the abattoir that excitin' night. We knew positively that we had the scrap of our lives starin' us in the pan and that Kid Roberts would have to be right when he climbed through the ropes to defend his title against Guardsman Blue! The Kid begin trainin' like he never had before in his career, we accumulated the best sparrin' partners, handlers, trainers and advisers which money could buy and with many of the boxin' sharps givin' Blue better than a even chance with the champion, public interest in the comin' International glove contest was at the well known fever heat.

A couple of weeks after Kid Roberts started in on the old conditionin' grind, I got a rather peculiar message at the camp which was pitched only a stone's throw—for David—from New York City. The

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/316


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/317

 mornin' mail brung me the followin', marked "Personal!" and wrote on heavy, monogrammed paper, which smelled like the inside of a overstocked florist's:

Well, here was somethin' which couldn't be laughed off, much as I would of loved to of done so. I knew what that young lady wanted to see me about, as well as if she'd of come right out with it in her note!

Election Day happened to fall on the same date as the Kid Roberts-Guardsman Blue entertainment and Dolores was satisfied that this odd coincidence would bring her nothin' but grief at the polls. She was bankin' heavy on the votes of her high society friends to return her a winner and she figured that the notoriety of the Kid's pugilistic endeavors would annoy them babies and cause 'em to leave the day's ballotin' in the hands of the workin' man, where it belongs. Dolores had long ago counted the votes of the rough and raucous precincts as somethin' she'd never get, thinkin' that them jazzbos was greatly against the speaker sex in politics. That was a good thought,

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/317


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/318

 they was, until—but I'll get around to that later, as the guy on the carousel says.

Personally, Kid Roberts hoped and prayed that his kind of balky helpmeet wouldn't click at the polls and thus dispense with her political ambitions which had widened the gap between 'em. It was the Kid's firm intention to throw away his boxin' gloves and call it a day after the Guardsman Blue muss and one other we had scheduled should he manage to slap down the hard-hittin' Englishman. These two bouts figured to net Kid Roberts more than half a million and with five hundred grand in his kick he'd certainly be sittin' pretty to start life anew with Dolores.

Well, anyways, I dashed into Manhattan the day after I got that note from Dolores and taxied to her glitterin' palace on Fifth Avenue, arrivin' there promptly at three. I hadn't cracked nothin' to Kid Roberts about this conference, on the account his spouse had ordered secrecy, but I don't mind tellin' you that I didn't enjoy my position! A friend of 'em both, the best I could look for was the worst of it, like anybody else which steps into a family quarrel either by request or on their own hook. It's a hobby of mine to lay off them affairs, for a man which gets himself mixed up in somebody else's domestica! troubles is a lunatic of the first water!

As usual, Dolores looks more like a million dollars than four $250,000 bills when a frozen-faced butler buttles me in to her in the parlor. Although she's a face card in the society deck, she's never high-hatted me. She tells me I'm lookin' well. I admit the charge

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/318


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/319

 and accuse her of shapin' up a bit keen herself. Then she says:

"How is Kane?"

"Perfect!" I says, truthfully. "He was out studyin' fishin' when I left him and he's in the condition of his life. He'll knock off Mister Guardsman Blue in a couple of rounds! That gil's name will be Black & Blue after"

"Joe—I want you to do me a favor," interrupted Dolores, seriously.

A slight chill capered up my spine and it was a warm day!

"Eh—sure!" I says, lifelessly. "What is it?"

"I want you to postpone Kane's bout with the English champion until after Election Day!" she says, still unsmilin'.

Frigid cat! What a modest little request—like askin' for the loan of my right lung!

"Why—why, honest to Coolidge, Mrs. Halliday, I couldn't do that if I wanted to and I can't say I want to and tell the truth!" I stammers. "You might as well ask me for the bottlin' rights to Niagara Falls. You know there's nothin '  I wouldn't do for the Kid or yourself, but that's out! Just what's the big idea?"

"The big idea, Joe, is that if Kane engages in a prize fight on Election Day, I will be defeated for the senate!" says Dolores. "I have worked day and night—sometimes all night—campaigned the state in all kinds of weather for months, as you know, given up everything, spent thousands of dollars and even neglected my health to win this election. You know what

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/319


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/320

 it means to me and so does Kane. Do you want to be responsible for my having done all that for nothing?"

I ain't a particle comfortable, that's a fact, but I can't cuddle up to the idea of a woman—especially a young good looker—mixin' in politics. Maybe I'm all wrong, but I think it's too rotten a game for 'em to cope with, what I mean!

"Eh—well, that's a kind of tough way to put it," I says, stallin' for time. "I—I'll toss my vote in for you, if that'll help any, but"

"What difference can it possibly make if the contest is held Election Day or the day after?" butts in Dolores, impatiently.

"Plenty difference!" I says, promptly, now on a subject which I could talk about freely. "This fight's had a million dollars worth of advertisin' for that date, I got a twenty-five-thousand-buck appearance forfeit posted, over fifty thousand tickets has been sold and New York is already crammed with train loads of wild-eyed out-of-town fans. Some of them eggs has come from as far as California and Cuba to see this scrap and there'd be a race riot if it was called off now—Say, you'd hear 'em squawkin' in Russia! I know you put a lot into tryin' to make the state senate, Mrs. Halliday, but think what the Kid has at stake. He's battled his way to the top again in the toughest pastime in the wide, wide world! He's had to take set-backs and discouragements which would of licked anybody else long ago, but bein' Kid Roberts—or Kane Halliday, if you like that better—why, he

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/320


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/321

 won through. This fight means as much to him as them votes does to you, if not more! Let me ask you your own question—do you want to be responsible for the Kid havin' done all he's done for nothin'?"

That was cold turkey for your life and Dolores' answer is silence, as she paces the floor, nervously bitin' her pretty lips. I would of gave a bootlegger's ransom to of been back in the camp and away from there. Two things I practically loathe is creamed carrots and arguments with women!

"As the matter of fact, I don't think the fight will make any difference, as far as the election's concerned," I says, fin'ly, in a soothin' voice. "In the first place"

Dolores started and looked at me like she'd been in a trance. Then she held up a lily white hand and on goes the Ritz.

"Very well, Joe," she says with a fixed smile and icicles dangled from each word, "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I suppose you are anxious to get back to your—er—headquarters, aren't you? I have nothing further to say about the matter!"

Seein' I was about as popular as scarlet fever just then, I took the air like a seagull. But she did have somethin' more to say about the matter, don't think she didn't! She sent for Kid Roberts and begged him to call the setto off till they locked up the ballot boxes. Whilst tickled silly to view his lovely, but kind of unreasonable wife again, the Kid says he can do nothin' of the kind. He gently but firmly presents her with my own arguments and a few he'd cooked

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/321


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/322

 up himself, with the results that in a very few minutes they are at it hot and heavy. When he fin'ly tore himself away, they was on the same kind of terms as Germany and France and Kid Roberts come back gloomy, nervous and highly unstrung. This not only burnt me up, but it worried me sick, as I'm afraid it will affect the Kid's work when he steps in the ring with Guardsman Blue.

Well, when I returned to the camp the day I seen Dolores, my ears is annoyed by the followin' ballad, sang in a voice which would be a decided asset to a train-caller:

That, ladies and gentlemen, for no good reason was issuin' from the boisterous throat of Mr. Ptomaine Joe, who was carded to swap wallops with a gent who made a clean breast of bein' "Rough House" Williams, colored heavyweight champion of Mt, McKinley, in the to the Kid Roberts-Guardsman Blue affray. When I come up to him, Ptomaine's got both his hands buried to the hilt in the brine bucket, toughenin' 'em up for his comin' hippodrome. This little incident kind of startled me, as all the trainin' I ever saw Ptomaine do for a fight before was to get his neck shaved.

"Howdy!" he greets me. "Hey, listen—they's a

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/322


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/323

 guy over in the village which sells hooch at three bucks the quart. Lay off it! I knocked over a vial of it this mornin' and from now on I'm aboard the sprinkler. Warm puppy! Talk about bein' potent—'at stuff eat all the gold fillin's out of my fangs!"

"See if I care!" I growls. "I don't want to hear nothin' about your adventures, Tomato, but if you bring any more moon into this camp I'll run you ragged and make you love it! Where's the Kid?"

"Oh, he's acin' around somewheres," answers this scofflaw, carelessly. "He claimed he was goin' fishin', but I think he must be teachin' some of them young trouts how to swim, I ain't cast a eye on him since daybreak!"

"Get in that kitchen and ham and egg me!" I says, and added, "make that two!" as Kid Roberts breezed into sight.

But Kid Roberts had a million rainbows on the end of his string and the ham and eggs was out. Wam! Them fishes went down elegant with slices of crisp bacon on top of 'em—which only goes to show that the fish is a very useful animal, indeed.

The very next day, Jack Haines, a good boy and one of the Kid's ablest sparrin' partners, accidentally butted Kid Roberts and reopened a old cut over the eye which had caused us trouble for years. So I took him to a medico in town. Ptomaine went with us, as he'll never let Kid Roberts out of his sight.

In the doctor's office, Ptomaine met his Fate again for the three thousandth time. This panic was a big blonde—a easy to witness, strappin', Swedish nurse

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/323


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/324

 which passed me and Kid Roberts up and after a good gaze at Ptomaine's huge bulk, throwed that ape a long, lingerin' smile. She got immediate action—give Ptomaine a inch and you're crazy!

"Good mornin', Good-lookin'!" says Ptomaine, returnin' her smile with a grin which would of terrorized a kindergarten. "Is the quack in?"

"The doctor's busy just now," says Miss Nurse, still smilin'. Me and Kid Roberts could of been in Afghanistan, for all the attention we drawed. "Have you an appointment?" she adds.

"No," says Ptomaine, "I got a cold in the head, but the champ here wants some hem-stitchin' done on his glim. What time do you knock off for the day?"

That's speed, hey?

"Why—why I leave at five o'clock," says this large heart-breaker, blushin' coyly. It was one o'clock then.

"Good!" says Ptomaine, floppin' in a chair, "I'll wait!"

Kid Roberts breaks out a healthy laugh and the nurse looks at him curiously.

"Are you really the heavyweight champion?" she asks him.

Nobody else can talk when Ptomaine's present!

"You tell 'em!" butts in this boy scout, before the Kid can answer. "There stands the champeen of champeens—the greatest puncher since Cain! And what d'ye think keeps him in the pink of condition? What gives him the stren'th to knock 'em all for a loop?"

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/324


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/325

 "Oh!" says friend nurse, lookin' fearfully disappointed. "You don't mean to say you're selling a patent medicine, do you?"

"Be yourself—I'm laughin' from you!" snorts Ptomaine. Me and the Kid is in convulsions, no foolin'! "The only thing I'm sellin' is myself. I'il tell you what put Kid Roberts over—my cookin'!"

"You're a cook?" asks the nurse, not sure whether she's bein' kidded or not.

That's like askin' Babe Ruth has he ever saw a ball game!

"Not a cook—Cook himself!" whinnies Ptomaine, loudly, "I was born in a kitchen and dragged up in Table de Hôte, France. When I was a young infant I played with fryin' pans instead of rattles! I never seen no milk when I was a baby, they raised me on batter and grease. I studied at restaurants instead of at school and I fin'ly graduated with the rare degree of G. C. O. E.—Greatest Chef on Earth! I'm good and I know it. Believe me, Sweetness, I broil a cruel steak!"

Nursie wipes her Alice-blue eyes.

"I'll have to try one of your steaks sometime," she says.

"Do that!" says Ptomaine, lookin' at her like a castaway would look at the Leviathan. "I'm a son-of-a-gun on wheels with a skillet!"

Then we went in to the doctor. Intermission.

Well, as the oil driller remarks, that was the start of Ptomaine's weekly romance. The nurse's name turned out to be Hilda Dahlstrom and she seemed to

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/325


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/326

 be sold on this cuckoo, though she give no other evidences of insanity. She was also a boxin' fan and Ptomaine used that weakness to build her up, which he done to the Queen's taste! There was scarcely a night when they wasn't steppin' out somewheres, and, Ptomaine, now the heavy boy friend, was in hock to everybody in the camp from takin' his sweetie to theatres, dinners, cabarets and whatnot. He spent the few hours he was absent from Hilda's side concoctin' warm love letters to her in penmanship which would of befuddled all the handwritin' experts in the world. You could take one of Ptomaine's letters to a Chinese laundry and get a package of collars with it, any time! In a maniacal outburst of generosity, he also give her a couple of ringside seats for the big fight, assurin' her he would take the greatest of pleasure in assassinatin' Rough House Williams for her amusement.

In the meanwhile, Election Day and the championship battle was swiftly drawin' near. Dolores was makin' a whirlwind stump-speakin' tour of New York in a last-minute appeal for votes and one day Kid Roberts startled me by announcin' his intentions of goin' into town to hear one of his wife's speeches. He says it was somethin' more than mere curiosity which interested him and arguments against it proved useless, With the Guardsman Blue pogrom only a week off, I most certainly didn't want to take no risks with my champion and I was afraid a accident might happen if he left the guarded confines of our camp. Kid Roberts laughed at my childish fears, but a accident did happen, nevers the less!

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/326


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/327

 Me and Ptomaine escorted Kid Roberts into the city and we took up positions on the outskirts of a mob which was listenin' to Dolores do her stuff from a big auto at Tenth Avenue and Forty-Eighth Streets. Besides bein' as attractive as sin, Dolores was plenty talker—she could do with the English language what Willie Hoppe can do with a billiard ball, what I mean! Everything was runnin' along smooth and even me and Ptomaine was interested in her chatter, when some guerillas in the audience begin to heckle the girl. In one minute flat, Kid Roberts gets red-headed and in two minutes we're mixed up in one of the snappiest free-for-alls I ever been in in my life and I been in more than several! For awhile, it was a better fight than the one at Verdun from the spectators' standpoint. None of these guys was cake-eaters by no means and it soon became a typical case of nothin' barred and the man which goes down loses! In the excitement, Dolores sped away in her car and I don't know if she even seen us or knew we was in there tryin.' Anyways,tryin'. Anyways, [sic] when the reserves come to our assistance—not that we particularly needed them bulls—we throwed a bevy of brickbats at the last few runners and checked up on our casualties, I had a set of skinned kunckles, my nose was inclined to be a bit gory and the majority of Ptomaine's bulky ears had been badly cut by a iron hoop which one of our charmin' tête-à-têtes skillfully wielded. But the worst break we got happened to Kid Roberts. His right hand—the money paw—was a ugly, inflamed red and all swelled up like a new judge!

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/327


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/328

 Well, on account of the prominence of Kid Roberts and Dolores, the newspapers played up that scrimmage and what caused it like it was a airplane wreck in the subway. It was splashed all over the front pages with their photos and this simply poisoned Dolores, which was satisfied how she'd get trimmed at the polls on the account of the incessant couplin' of her name with the heavyweight champion's. As if that ain't enough, Kid Roberts accepts a invitation to speak over the radio about his comin' brawl with Guardsman Blue. We ain't no more than stepped into the broadcastin' room, when we bump right into Dolores, which was there to spill a campaign talk!

"Eh—how do you do!" stammers Kid Roberts.

All he got was a cold little bow.

That was apparently embarrassin' enough for Dolores, but the Kid made it more so by forgettin' alt about his speech on the fight and launchin' into a long and enthusiastic appeal for votes for his wife! That made more newspaper stories the followin' day and further infuriated the already maddened Dolores. Broilin' canine, but she was sore!

The Kid's right hand, injured in that untoward gang fight, was keepin' me from oversleepin' durin' the next few nights. It was terrible slow in respondin' to scientific treatment and as tender as a schoolgirl's heart—grammar school. I went to all the extremes to keep this fact a dark secret from the public and the newspaper guys, but somehow or other it got out and the odds shifted to six to five, with Guardsman Blue the favorite. At this tasty price, Kid Roberts, Ptomaine,

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/328


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/329

 myself and the Kid's entire camp went down hook, line and sinker on the champion to win by a knockout. In the case of Ptomaine and the handlers, they bet all the sugar they got for helpin' Kid Roberts train, figurin' the Guardsman a spread for the champ, burn hand or not!

Election Day, the day of the combat, dawned bright and clear, forecastin' the record crowd which was to see one of the greatest glove contests ever fought for a world's championship. Even the most calloused, case-hardened fan was breathless, hoarse and tremblin' when he milled his way out of the arena that afternoon, I'll inform the globe!

As usual, Ptomaine tried his best to gum matters up and nearly succeeded. Early in the mornin' he vanished from the camp and the next I heard from him was by the via of a phone call around noon. The call come from a police station. I rushed down and found this half-wit in a cell, battered and gloomy. He looked like a total loss!

"How come?" I asked him angrily.

"Creepin' mackerel, what a break I got!" says Ptomaine, gingerly feelin' a bump on his bean, "I had a heavy date with Hilda this mornin' and wishin' to put on a little dog I took her for a taxi ride. 'At went over fine, but when the fatal time to pay off comes rollin' around, I find I ain't got a thin dime on me—I left my dough in my other coat, get me? Well, I asked Hilda to stake me to twenty bucks; the bill was nineteen ninety and I naturally wished to tip the chauffeur—a fool and his money is soon parted!

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/329


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/330

 But Hilda ain't puttin' nothin' out. She tells me to cut myself a piece of cake and immediately takes the air! A nice girl what?"

"How did you get into this jam?" I hollers, angrily. "Never mind your love affairs!"

"A dose of patience woulddo you the world of good," says Ptomaine. "Well, the chauffeur starts gettin' rosey with me and I get steamed myself when in the midst of his barkin' and meowin' he claims I'm a big bum! They ain't nobody goin' to push me around like 'at, which I told him. The big false alarm goes crazy and chooses me and then the fun began! I'm sprayin' him with left hooks and givin' him a proper cuffin', when a couple of coppers comes poundin' up. I told 'em I was Ptomaine Joe, the heavyweight sensation, and they told me I was both a liar and pinched! Well, I'm cop-proof. I knocked them two bulls and the taxi yegg stiff, but then all the cops in the world held a reunion over my body. They was too frequent for me and here I am. Check me out of this trap, will you? I want to go places!"

How would you like to be pilot for a jobbie like that?

Disgusted, I went out to the desk sergeant and asked him to let me lamp what the blotter had to state about Mons. Ptomaine Joe.

"There you are!" snarls the sarg, pushin' the blotter towards me. "Read it and weep!"

As near as I can remember, the blotter read like thus:

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/330


text:
Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/193

Rh don’t believe this is a fresh affair,’ said another. ‘In all probability she is only some discarded mistress who needs looking after for a time….’

The party arrived in three carriages. As Ukon had superintended every detail, the whole turn-out was quite adequately stylish, or at any rate did not betray such rusticity as to attract attention. On their arrival they found their quarters stacked with all sorts of presents from Genji. He gave them time to settle in, and did not call till late the same night. Long, long ago Tamakatsura used often to hear him spoken of in terms of extravagant admiration; ‘Genji the Shining One,’ that was what people had called him. All the rest she had forgotten; for hers had been a life from which tales of Courts and palaces seemed so remote that she had scarcely heeded them. And now when through a chink in her curtains-of-state she caught a glimpse of him—vague enough, for the room was lit only by the far distant rays of the great lamp beyond the partition—her feeling was one of admiration, but (could it be so, she asked herself) of downright terror.

Ukon had flung open both halves of the heavy main-door and was now obsequiously ushering him into the room. ‘You should not have done that,’ he protested. ‘You are making too much of my entry. No such ceremonies are necessary when one inmate of this house takes it into his head to visit another,’ and he seated himself alongside her curtained chair. ‘This dim light too,’ he continued, addressing Ukon, ‘may seem to you very romantic. But Lady Tamakatsura has consented to make believe that she is my daughter, and family meetings such as this require a better illumination. Do you not agree?’ And with this he slightly raised one corner of her curtain. She looked extremely shy and was sitting, as he now discovered, with face half-turned away. But he knew at once that as far

title: Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/193


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/331

"For cryin' out loud!" I says, when I had read that novel, "This guy'll go to the chair, won't he?"

"They'll probably start with that!" growls the sergeant.

But it turned out that me and the desk sergeant was lodge members and his name happened to be Murphy, the same as mine is. So I fin'ly managed to bail Ptomaine out and take him to a medico, which treated this cop-killer's again badly damaged ears and stuffed 'em with cotton packs. The doctor remarks that after what Ptomaine had just been through he's crazy to enter a prize ring that afternoon and Ptomaine says he's commencin' to think he's crazy to enter a prize ring any afternoon!

Well we come down from the camp right after lunch so's we could cast our votes for the beautiful Dolores, before enterin' the arena. The lady herself happens to be in the pollin' place when we blowed in and the delighted crowd outside quickly recognized both her and Kid Roberts. Dolores drawed a polite cheer, but the Kid, which was to defend his championship within a few hours, got a ovation which brung hundreds on the run! A newspaper photographer wouldn't have it no other way but that they pose for a picture together and as in front of that mob of hero

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/331


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/332

 worshippers there was no escape, Dolores gave a resigned sign and consented. She forced a pleasant smile and a lovin' expression, but she was double furious at what she thought was the final blow to her political hopes.

The scene then shifted to the ring, where Ptomaine Joe was all set to go on with Rough House Williams in the bout. As his elephant's ears is stuffed with cotton, Ptomaine couldn't hear a earthquake, let alone the bell, and he's arranged with his goofy handlers to raise their arms as a signal when the gong rings, so's he'll know when it's the end of a round and stop fightin'. He's goin' to watch his seconds for this highly important signal at every opportunity durin' the quarrel.

Whilst awaitin' the word to start this gymkana, Ptomaine peers eagerly through the haze of tobacco smoke for a glimpse of the fair Hilda Dahlstrom, the nurse which had given him the run-around. Suddenly, he releases a oath which would of made a army mule skinner blush and look askance—I ain't got the faintest idea what askance means, but it's a high class word, now ain't it? I followed Ptomaine's infuriated gaze and then I laughed myself ill! Jammed right up against the ropes in the costly seats Ptomaine had to pay for, is Hilda Dahlstrom and some big Swede which give Ptomaine a silly grin. Then the bell rung!

The enraged Ptomaine shot off his stool like somebody had lit a fire under it and smacked Rough House Williams on the button with a ruinous right before the burly colored boy knew what it was all about.

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/332


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/333

 The crowd yelled as Rough House sagged a bit at the knees and another horrible right to the jaw sent the dark-skinned gent crashin' into the ropes. The customers madly beseeched Ptomaine to finish his man and Ptomaine tried hard to fill their order. Rough House, who'd been busy doin' nothin', rallied and managed to land a weak left to the pan, but the barrage of rights and lefts from the heart-broken Ptomaine soon had the Ethiopian in a bad way.

Well, it looked like a miracle was about to happen before our eyes—Ptomaine Joe was goin' to leave a ring under his own power and leave it a winner to boot! Our dare-devil cook seemed to realize this himself and he steadied, timin' his punches nicely. Fearful of losin' on a foul what seemed a certain win, he even remembered to keep watchin' his corner for the upraised arms of his handlers—the signal that the bell had clanged, endin' the first frame. In response to the mob's howl for more speed, Ptomaine stepped on it and wowed 'em by floorin' Rough House with a beautiful right to the body. The dazed colored boy staggered to his feet, beatin' the count by a eyelash and Ptomaine eagerly rushed in to finish him. The house was in a uproar and so was Williams, when to the stunned amazement of the crowd and the wonderin' joy of Rough House, Ptomaine drops his gloves! He'd glanced hastily at his corner and seein' a forest of upraised arms, he thought the bell had rung.

Mr. Rough House Williams squandered a paltry second on a dumfounded stare at the defenceless Ptomaine. Then he let go a wide grin and a right swing

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/333


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/334

 from the regions of his heel. The crowd groans in unison, but Ptomaine didn't—that punch caught him under the chin and sprawled him on the canvas, as cold as a step-mother's caress!

As our noble athalete's frenzied seconds drag his limp carcass to his corner and the attendance is behavin' like mental defectives, the bell rings!

What had happened was this; 64-Round McHook and the other brainless wonders handlin' Ptomaine hadn't signalled him at all, or at least, they hadn't meant to. In the general confusion they'd forgot all about the agreed upon signal and that Ptomaine couldn't hear with that cotton in his ears. So in their amazement at seein' him winnin' a fight, they'd throwed up their arms in delight! Ptomaine seen nothin' but arms in the air when he looked at 'em and thought the round was over. Well, it was, as far as he was concerned!

With the comedy part of the bill out of the way, the nervous, impatient crowd buzzed like the drone of two million bees with excitement over the dramatic part of the program—Kid Roberts of the United States vs. Guardsman Blue of the United Kingdom, for the heavyweight championship of the world! And what a two-man Gettysburg that was, with the result in doubt almost till the last punch!

The election returns was bein' announced from the ring between rounds and the very first thing we heard was that Dolores was bein' snowed under in the blueblooded districts by votes for the bozo she was runnin' against. A reporter motions for me to bend down

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/334


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/335

 over the ropes and when I do he tells me that the Kid's wife has arranged to get the fight returns at her home, along with the results of the ballotin'. Well, up till the third round, Dolores was hearin' of her hubby receivin' as steady a beatin' in the ring as she was gettin' at the polls. That sore right hand proved a decided handicap, and, takin' a desperate chance with it in the second round, the Kid broke it, renderin' it practically useless from then on!

The first round went to the cool and clever Guardsman by a good margin. Kid Roberts was nervous and cold. He couldn't seem to untrack himself, whilst the Englishman piled up points with a stiff straight left which didn't seem able to miss the Kid's face. The champion tried sayin' it with left hooks, but Guardsman Blue smothered his efforts with apparent ease, frequently crossin' his own right with damagin' effect. Blue was a pretty boxer and no mistake! Towards the end of the round, the Guardsman hit Kid Roberts on the back of the neck with a rabbit punch in a clinch. The crowd hissed and the referee warned Blue, which politely touched gloves in apology with the Kid, causin' the feverish crowd to cheer him. Crowds is funny, what?

The bell found the men sparrin' cautiously in mid-ring and the patrons of the manly art bellerin' for a little more manslaughter and a little less dancin'. The Kid run to his corner breathin' as regular as a sleepin' baby, but he hadn't landed four clean blows on the shifty Englishman. I give him a light spongin' and told him to keep in close, as it was a cinch even that

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/335


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/336

 early in the tussle that Kid Roberts had no chance outboxin' Mons, Blue at long range.

The Briton come out for round two a photograph of confidence. He tore in with that deadly left and connected four times without a return. Then the Kid tried his own left, but was short, immediately clinchin' and poundin' the Guardsman about the body with his only good hand—the left. On the break, each missed lefts, but Blue then jabbed the champion hard to the face and head. Still cool and calculatin,' thecalculatin', the [sic] Guardsman continued to hook and jab Kid Roberts, till in desperation the Kid decided to obey the irritated crowd's squawk to "Take a chance!"

The champ rushed the Englishman to the ropes and landed a straight left to the head. It was a stiff punch and shook the Guardsman up so much that he was unable to block another one to the same place. Kid Roberts then set his teeth and hooked the sore right hand to the jaw. The blow had plenty behind it and caught Blue on the side of the head as he frantically ducked. Instantly, the Kid's face twisted in pain, and, clinchin', he looked at me over the Guardsman's shoulder and shook his head. The referee broke 'em and Blue woke the crowd up by connectin' several times with hard drives to the head and body. A hot left hook to the Kid's jaw slowed him to a walk and he missed a left uppercut at the bell.

A hasty examination of the champion's right hand when he slumped on his stool showed it was busted, as I feared. Whilst the announcer is megaphonin' the election returns to the mob durin' the rest, I

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/336


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/337

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/337


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/338

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/338


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/339

 shoved half a orange in the Kid's mouth and showered instructions on him with the water. The votin' disclosed that Dolores was makin' a trifle better showin' and this seemed to interest the Kid more than the fact that he was now defendin' his world's championship with one hand!

"Pay attention to me, now, Kid!" I whisper in his ear. "Keep in close and pound this mug's heart with your left. I don't think he likes 'em down below! Are you listenin'?" I adds, slappin' him sharply on the shoulder.

He starts like he'd been asleep.

"By Gad!" he mutters, dreamily, "I think she'll be elected, after all!"

Then he skipped out for the third round.

Up to this innin', the showin' of Kid Roberts had been a severe disappointment to his admirers, which knew nothin' about his cracked right hand. The speedy Englishman seemed to be hittin' the champ at will and the Kid's famous right hook, or "Iron Mike", as the sport writers had christened it, could of been checked at the box office for all the use it was to him. They screamed at him to start somethin' as he met Blue in the center of the ring and start somethin' he did!

Guardsman Blue had evidently got the word from his seconds to throw caution to the winds and cut loose with everything he had in a try for a knock out. The Britisher's handlers was hep to the Kid's broken right hand and they joyfully figured they had the new world's champion in their corner. The

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/339


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/340

 Guardsman charged and swung a heavy right to the Kid's head which was cleverly blocked to his great surprise and half the roarin' mob's delight. Kid Roberts then stung Blue with two lightnin' lefts to the mouth and drove the same glove flush to the heart. These three clean wallops made the Guardsman pensive and he worked into a clinch to think matters over. The referee warned him for holdin' and fin'ly had to tear him away from the Kid. Both then prettily blocked each other's leads and the champion suddenly set himself and shot his right to the jaw. The blow caught Blue off balance and he plunged to his knees for the first knockdown, bringin' the crowd to its feet with a mighty cheer. Blue took a count of five, slyly rubbin' his gloves in the rosin as he did so. I seen that, but I guess the busy referee didn't. When Blue arose, he proceeded to rub them gloves against the Kid's face at every opportunity, the caked rosin soon makin' the champ's face raw. The gong found 'em clinched in Blue's corner, with the Kid sinkin' his left to the wrist in the pantin' Englishman's stomach, again and again and again!

Durin' the one-minute intermission, I maraged to get the referee to wipe the rosin off Blue's gloves and then come the fourth and last frame—the thriller of thrillers!

Kid Roberts grimly walked right into the Guardsman in spite of a volley of left jabs and right hooks which drove the house crazy. The champion clipped Blue on the chin with a wicked left and then started the gore in a stream with another one to the nose.

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/340


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/341

 Blue covered up and wanted to clinch, but the Kid boxed him off, left-handin' him all over the ring and usin' the broken right for defensive purposes only. Blue managed to slip over a couple of body punches, but he looked tired and the blows seemed to lack force. On the other hand, Kid Roberts was as strong as a bull. Actin' on the hysterical advice from his corner, the Englishman bored in and found the champion more than willin' to mix. Nobody sat down as they stood up to each other and exchanged lefts and rights to head and body. A savage right uppercut got past the champion's guard and he dropped to the canvas. By this time, the roar of the mob would of drowned out a broadside from a dreadnaught! Kid Roberts got to one knee and signalled me he wasn't hurt, but he took the full count to get his bearin's, nevers the less. When he arose as the referee bawls "Nine!", he was all business!

The eager Guardsman missed a left lead and the champ promptly crossed his right to the jaw, quickly followin' with a sizzlin' left to the stomach which seemed to cave the British boxer in. Swift as a flash of light, Kid Roberts stepped in and hooked his right to the jaw again and Blue fell in'a heap, the claret gushin' freely from his nose and mouth. The Kid was usin' that swollen and agonizin' right like there was nothin' the matter with it at all, but I winced with him every time he landed it! The Guardsman was down for a count of seven. He tried to dance away when he got up, but the Kid was now too fast for him. He drove a crashin' left to Blue's ribs and the

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/341


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/342

 punch made the Briton change feet and look anxiously to his corner for counsel. They yelled to him to clinch, but the champion pushed him away and shot both right and left to the stomach as Blue weakly pawed at him. The Guardsman sank to his knees, complainin' to the referee that he'd been fouled. That was the tip-off that Mr. Blue was through! His squawk was ridiculous—Kid Roberts never fouled anybody in his life, in the ring or out of it. The referee shook his head at Blue and counted to eight, at which point Blue scrambled to his feet in a daze. About all he had left was his trunks and Kid Roberts made a choppin' block out of him with his left. The delirious crowd begged for a knockout and the Kid waded in, intent on doin' just that!

A right hand uppercut to the tip of the chin floored Blue for the third knockdown and when he got up a terrific left to the stomach sent him sprawlin' again. How he ever regained his footin' after that blow is a mystery, but he did, swayin' on his feet like a souse and soused he was from punishment. The referee looked meanin'ly at the Englishman's corner and there was some yells of "Stop it!" With victory a certainty, Kid Roberts stalled, a troubled look in his eyes. He was afraid another hard punch might be fatal to the groggy Guardsman—licked to a fare-thee-well, but game as they make 'em! Whilst the champion hesitates and the crowd's in a frenzy, a bloody towel comes hurtlin' into the ring from Blue's corner, followed by the old sponge. At the same minute, Blue sank to the floor without bein' hit and it was all over!

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/342


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/343

 Unmindful of the thunderous applause, Kid Roberts collapsed in his corner from the agony of that busted hand, whisperin' to me that his career in the ring was about ended, in spite of the fact that he was still champion. There was plenty young huskies comin' up, whilst the years was beginnin' to punish the Kid severely. The Guardsman had hit him hard and often, even floored him, before goin' out cold. His hands was commencin' to get brittle, his timin' and judgment was poor—old Mother Nature was startin' the count over him, what I mean!

Well, whilst we're all rejoicin' in the dressin' room over the result of the battle and the Kid's hand is bein' set by a openly admirin' sawbones, the sensational news comes that Dolores has been elected to the state senate! It seems that a landslide of votes at the last minute from the rough and tough neighborhoods had swung the tide in her favor. There's no question but that these citizens was for Dolores simply because she was the wife of their idol—Kid Roberts. The voters which put her over was mostly fighters, seconds, promoters, managers, boxin' fans and the etc. So the very thing which made Dolores leave the Kid and which she feared would defeat her ambitions, was responsible for her victory at the end!

But I guess in the first flush of winnin', Dolores didn't realize all that. Back in our hotel that night, with the mountainous Ptomaine outside the door to keep away the mobs which wanted to see the champion, I'm lookin' over a pile of newspaper extras filled with accounts of the big fight and likewise the election

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/343


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/344

 returns. All at once I let out a howl and handed a paper to the questionin' Kid.

"It was nothin' in the world but the leatherpushers and their friends which put your wife in the senate and now look what she does!" I groaned.

Kid Roberts gazes at the newspaper, gasps—and then bursts out in hysterical laughter. On the first page was this, in big black type:

Right next to that is this:

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/344


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/345

thirty-six hundred months ago, Mr. W. Shakespeare which refused time and time again to appear in the movies, ride in a airplane, operate a typewriter, attend Ziegfeld Follies or speak over the radio, fin'ly bowed to public demand and consented to write the followin':

Well, that's all right as far as it goes, but like a bookkeeper's wages it don't go far enough, what I mean, For one thing, there's much more girls prowlin' gracefully around now than there was in the noted year of 1600 —which, as the initials shows, was All Different. Maybe in them days you could talk your ways into the tender hearts of what few ladies hadn't made other arrangements, but in the current year mere conversation will get you nowheres with the skin you love to touch!

By a odd coincidence, the modern damsel's motto is that actions talk much more vociferous than re-

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/345


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/346

 marks. She craves to hear "I love you!" every bit as well as Eve did, but she demands some proofs of that highly popular method of gettin' her kind attention. In the olden times, a well-placed kiss would satisfy the little woman that you was maniacal about her and you could get away with murder. But that's all damp to-day. Instead of bein' the golden band which shows the world you're her lord and master, the weddin' ring is a platinum hoop through which hubby has got to jump when wifie says so, or she absolutely won't play!

After punchin' Guardsman Blue incoherent the Kid made up our minds that he was ripe to quit the boxin' racket forever and a day. The young man wished to devote his entire time and attentions to the difficult feat of winnin' back the comely Dolores, still A. W. O. L. from the dear old family hearth. But whilst havin' important money, Kid Roberts was now more than willin' to leave the ring flat, the idea of his delicious helpmeet bein' in politics was just as unappetizin' to him as him being a box fighter was to her. But all set to do his wife a favor and swear off breakin' noses, he felt the least she could do in return was to meet him half ways by throwin' up her job in the senate. Kid Roberts figured she'd have to do it eventually, so why not now?

How the so ever, the confident Kid reckoned without his hostess. Hurt by his previous refusals to forget about the manly art of self-defence for her sake and all hopped up over her win at the polls, which she expected like she expected to become Queen of Siam,

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/346


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/347

 Dolores was the exact opposite of anxious to give up her brand new honors at what she considered a mere wave of the hand from her formerly indifferent husband, Woman-like, she thought Kid Roberts had a little more punishment comin' to him and that she rated much coaxin' and plenty pettin' before she'd kiss and make up. Well, even though they're full of the best intentions in the world, there's some masculines which just ain't got a hobby of goin' down on their knees whilst beggin' your pardon.

Kid Roberts was one of 'em.

As I'd handled the Kid in as many battles with his wife as I'd went behind him in his brawls in the ring, he requested the slight boon of my presence at the big pow wow with Dolores. There was nothin' phenomenal in that—I was well known to 'em both. As usual, Mr. Conference started off beautiful and wound up pitiful!

"Why—why, Kane!" breathes Dolores, as she lamps her former fireside companion.

Kid Roberts stares at his charmin' opponent like she was Eve and he was Adam, Neither of 'em give me a tumble.

"Dolores!" he says, a bit dreamily.

So far, everything is jake. Then the fun began!

"Sweetheart, I've thrown away my boxing gloves forever!" says the Kid.

They clinch and no referee in the world would of had the heart to break 'em, no kiddin'!

"That's the best news I've heard since my election to the senate!" says Dolores, the photograph of hap-

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/347


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/348

 piness, "I'll send Jimpson right over to your hotel for your things and—" she stops, blushin'. I started to the street myself, but the Kid stops me by flickin' a eyebrow, a old signal between us.

"Of course, dear, this means that you'll esti from the senate at once, doesn't it?" asks Kid Roberts, like he's merely statin' a fact they both take for granted.

The prettiest face I ever seen loses the joyful smile with the speed of radio or light—whichever's the fastest. Dolores kind of squares her lovely shoulders and emits a frown.

"Why, Kane," she says softly to her sparrin' partner, "I cannot see why my career in politics should be interrupted or—or how it might jeopardize our happiness in any way. Many professional women are happily married and"

"And you expect me to discard my title of world's champion to be known merely as the husband of the—er—famous Dolores Halliday, state senator," butts in the Kid, two miles above the height of sarcasm.

"I do not expect you to do anything you do not want to do, Kane—you never have, you know!" says Dolores, coldly.

That got the desired results and the panic was on!

Steamed by his frow's catty remark, Kid Roberts hotly accused her of knifin' the voters whose ballots elected her, by introducin' bills against boxin'. Dolores come back with equally heavy artillery and the fun waxed fast and furious, comin' to a raucous close with a ton of grief for both as of yore. Dolores was

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/348


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/349

 weepin' and the Kid gnashin' his pearly teeth when they parted, with nothin' further between 'em than a heartily banged door!

In the meanwhile, a new and sensational heavyweight has flashed across the boxin' horizon in what I'll call a spectacular fashion. This big blah was known far and wide as the "Fightin' Sheik", for the main reasons that he's supposed to be a full-blooded Arabian of important birth. The name his admirin' parents made him a present of was somethin' no announcer could cope with, so he's slappin' 'em stiff under the tasty cognomen of "Jack Thomas." HonHon. [sic] Thomas, which stood six foot seven inches with his wavy hair brushed back and weighed two hundred and forty-five pounds after a shave, has dumfounded Europe and South America by a uninterrupted series of one-round knockouts of the foreign heavies. As we all know, knockin' out foreign heavies is only givin' 'em what they've learned to expect. Still, turnin' the trick in one frame ain't exactly a common practice, at that—most of 'em don't last that long, what I mean.

Well, to the New York fight promoters, always willin' to take the best of it, this Samson of the desert looks like a ham bone looks to a Airedale. Mr. Jack Thomas is the find of the century! As far as the nude eye can see, there ain't nobody in the good old U. S. A. which is capable of givin' the world's champion, Kid Roberts, as much as a good, stiff workout and the promoters reason rightly that regardless of whether or not Thomas is a bum, he'll certainly do till one comes along. They figure that the Inter-

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/349


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/350

 national flavor of a bout between the Arab and Kid Roberts would pack even Central Park to its furthest shrubbery—picture the publicity value of a properly built up fightin' sheik!

A cloudburst of cables descends on Thomas and his manager, which is boundin' around sweet old England, flattenin' the divin' Joe Becketts and the like as fast as they come along. It's triple easy to sell the battlin' and money lovin' Arabian the idea that he should see America first, particularly when a guarantee of $100,000 for a setto with Kid Roberts is served up pipin' hot with the courteous invitation. Then the boys which loves to keep the manly art—and their bank accounts—alive, comes cuddlin' up to me and Kid Roberts. For the paltry favor of pushin' this Jack Thomas loose from his reputed equilibrium we could have anything our little hearts desired—try and get it!

Should they of sit up all night plannin' ways and means, the fight promoters couldn't of approached the champion at a better time to do business. The Kid was as hot as a saxophone player and no mistake! The refusal of his wife to forget about politics had him fit to be chained to a post and the sport writers' printed remarks about him bein' a "burnt out, battle-scarred veteran" turned him red-headed. All his resolutions went by the board and in less than a week the fumin' Kid Roberts signs to cuff Jack Thomas for $300,000—win, lose, draw or what have you?

About this time the boxin' game was gave one of the biggest boosts it ever got since David stopped

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/350


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/351

 Goliath with a punch. Said boost was the complete retirement from the ring of Ptomaine Joe which left a record for the boys to shoot at for some time to come. A perfect percentage—not a single win in a entire career in the ring. Hot puppy!

This parsnip seeks me out in the trainin' camp one day.

"Hold everything!" he says, "and get set for a shock!"

"On your way, Ignorant," I answers, the height of courtesy, "I wouldn't loan you a nickel if I had two more than there is in the mint!"

"And I wouldn't ask you for one if I knowed where I could buy a steam yacht with it!" says Ptomaine. "You'd think you was payin' teller durin' your spare time—always talkin' about money. If"

"Come to the point and be done with it, will you?" I butt in harshly.

"You don't give me the opportunity," complains Ptomaine, "It's a wonder you ain't on the board of pardons—you never let nobody finish a sentence!"

"That wins!" I says, throwin' up my hands. "Do your stuff and make it snappy!"

"Well," says Ptomaine, "what I wished to state was 'at the fight industry will have to crawl along without my valuable services from now on. I'll never pull on another boxin' glove as long as I'm allowed to breathe! If Kid Roberts was wise, he'd quit the game too and let this Arabian punk content himself with shadow boxin'. Old Father Time is startin' to tell on the champ, just like it ison me. We're pretty much alike."

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/351


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/352

 "Under the arms!" I says, "Y'know, Ptomaine, you always been a puzzle to me at that. You seem to be poison in a rough and tumble, I've saw you baffle a dozen guys in free-for-alls. How is it that one man seems to be just one too many for you?"

"They ain't nothin' mysterious about 'at," says Ptomaine. "One man was just one too many for Abel, too!"

Well, before another couple of weeks had visited us and departed, Ptomaine Joe hands us shock number two and this one was more astoundin' than his welcome resignation from the prize ring. Kid Roberts sends him up to his wife's home with a note one day and that day was either the luckiest or the unluckiest in Ptomaine's life! Whilst deliverin' the message, he crossed the path of Dolores' pretty French maid Yvonne and a tasty number she was, too, like the ones you see in the plays and movies—and nowheres else. Our unhandsome hero run right to past performances and fell for Yvonne like Antony crashed for the noted Cleo. In fact, when Ptomaine staggered back to the trainin' camp he was "drunk with love!", as he put it himself. Assisted by what Frog he picked up in Paris as the results of the draft and his wild cravin' for Yvonne, he then starts in a busy campaign for that damsel's heart.

Well, boys and girls, this time Ptomaine got service! He strutted in on the open-mouthed camp one afternoon with his chest out three lineal feet and the shyly blushin' Yvonne on his arm.

"Meet the wife—don't laugh!" says Ptomaine.

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/352


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/353

 Frankie Finn and One-Round Fay, two of the Kid's sparrin' partners, looked from the eye-widenin' Yvonne to Ptomaine's fearful features and then turned away, shakin' their bullet-heads in silent wonderment. When Kid Roberts recovers from this typical case of unexpectedness, he smiles and bows to Yvonne, crackin' somethin' in her own tongue which makes the gal flush with pleasure. Then he shakes Ptomaine's hand heartily and wished him the thing the grinnin' Ptomaine was goin' to need most—luck!

"Well, Ptomaine," I says with a sigh of deep relief, as Kid Roberts walks away, "I'm certainly fearful delighted that you're now off my hands and in charge of somebody else for life! You couldn't of done nothin' which would please me better than gettin' wed. Eh—what are you and Yvonne goin' to use for money?"

"I ain't annoyed about money, you sarcastical monkey," grows Ptomaine. "And besides, Yvonne ain't exactly no pauper and she's got a good job to boot. We're sittin' pretty, and in due time, after I've rested up from the rush and bustle of the honeymoon, I can win myself a job as a chef anywheres, I ain't one of them stuck-up husbands which is too proud to work after they're married!"

Payin' not the slightest of slight attention to the loud guffaws of the Kid's handlers, Ptomaine then proudly relates how he made Yvonne see her ways clear into committin' the lunatical act of marryin' him.

"Needless delays and a faint heart is what beat me with the women in the dim past," he says, "so first I

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/353


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/354

 learned enough Frog to ask Yvonne this simple little question, to viz, 'Will you wed me, Kid?' Well bein' a smart girl, Yvonne immediately hung her comely head and murmured soft and low, '' ' Mais oui! ' ''—'at's Paris for 'Absolutely!' This gets me a bit delirious, but I says, 'Thanks very much!' and rushed her off to a minister before she knowed what it was all about. Yvonne's one of the main reasons I left the ring, because she didn't wish to be married to no prize fighter, which I'm glad to say I ain't any more!"

"When was you one?" I asks.

"C'mon, Yvonne, let's leave these roughnecks," says Ptomaine. "We've did enough slummin' for to-day!"

It took half the trainin' camp to hold me and the big stiff got away.

In due course of time, Jack Thomas, the Arabian Goliath, unboated himself at the United States and is met at the dock by an army of sport writers and photographers. From the reception this gil got he might of been one of them foreign lecturers which loathes our manners, but loves our dollars—the difference bein' that there was a chance that the Arab really had somethin' to deliver. The mammoth Thomas at least looked like a killer and for days afterwards the sport pages is full of his sensational history and the stark terror he'd created in the ring. Lady writers interviewed him from the female points of view, he was photographed almost hourly and generally gave the freedom of the city by New York, which is much freer with that than with anything else.

Well, Thomas at once goes into secret trainin' for

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/354


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/355

 a quickly arranged bout with Bill McCann, a fearful set-up hand-picked by the careful promoters of the Arabian's fight with Kid Roberts. The reason for this preliminary showin' of the dizzy sheik's wares, was that the hard-boiled sport writers insisted on the rights of the fans to see a sample of how Mr. Thomas conducted himself in a prize ring before payin' famine prices to witness his collision with the world's champion. Both me and Kid Roberts was muchly pleased when we hear that the Arab is trainin' behind locked doors and won't even let the newspaper guys in to see him workout. That kind of stuff is usually the tip-off that a fighter's got somethin' either him or the promoters wishes to hide from the boxin' sharps—in other words, that he's not so good.

The Jack Thomas-Bill McCann hippodrome lasted just fifty-nine seconds, the Arab knockin' the badly scared McCann dead with a punch. In fact, the "fight" was over so swiftly that nobody had a chance to get the faintest line on the Arabian scrapper's ability to box or take punishment. There seemed to be no doubt that the foreign importation could hit, but what he would do against a seasoned ring general and master boxer like Kid Roberts, which would be steppin' around him and exchangin' blow for blow, was somethin' else again.

I'll tell you what he done!

There was only a few which recalled that Bill McCann was a twenty-eighth rater, but thousands remembered that the Arab had stopped him with a single right to the jaw. Therefore, the overflow

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/355


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/356

 crowd hoped for by the promoters turned out for the Kid Roberts-Jack Thomas battle, with the world's heavyweight championship at stake. Kid Roberts, the first to enter the ring, got his regular five-minute ovation—a clean liver, square fighter and murderous hitter, the Kid was always a popular champ. The dusky Thomas tramped down the aisle a few minutes later, loomin' up like the Woolworth Buildin' with a bathrobe on. The Arabian, too, got a thunderous cheer; after all, the mob was there to see bloodshed and violence and plenty of both—deep in the fight fan's heart he knows when his yell splits the roof he's not applaudin' one combatant or the other as much as the game itself!

Kid Roberts grinned like a boy at his warm reception and waved his gloved hands at the boisterous crowd. The Arab bowed very solemnly to one and all, then sat unsmilin'ly on his stool, as dignified as a rajah. At this point, Ptomaine Joe makes the unpleasant discovery that Thomas' seconds is Rough House Williams and Two-Punch McGazzatti—both of which gents has had the extreme pleasure of flattenin' Ptomaine in the ring. Some suitable repartee follows which delights the ringsiders, quick to recognize Ptomaine as one of the greatest dry tank divers which ever laced on a boxin' glove. Don't blame me for not repeatin' here the above-mentioned repartee. I try to be a gentleman at all times if it's in any way possible, and besides, there's laws about what kind of words you can print.

Well, the fightin' sheik looked very impressive durin'

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/356


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/357

 the introductions, the posin' for the newspaper photographers, the instructions from the referee and the general thrillin' bustle of this and that which always comes before the first bell in a big fight. As he stood in his corner, facin' the noisy crowd and awaitin' the openin' gong, Mr. Jack Thomas from far off Arabia certainly seemed able to prevent himself from bein' picked on, "Get him quick!" was all the instructions I felt called upon to give Kid Roberts, before I grabbed the stool and ducked down under the ropes.

I've had some surprises in my life and I take it for granted I'm due for some more before the embalmer looks me over with a professional eye and quotes a price for the job. But the league-leader to date is the surprise I got a few seconds after this Arabian world-beater turned to face Kid Roberts at the bell. Honest to Baltimore, Thomas was a terrible joke—he was simply horrible! He seemed to know nothin' what the so ever about the scientific end of the game and his clumsy swings missed the smilin', nimble-footed champion by a city block! The desert warrior's left hand seemed to be more in his way than anything else and he soon let it hang useless at his side. Clumpin' around the ring like a bull elephant, the snortin' Thomas clubbed at Kid Roberts with his aimless right. Whilst any one of these terrible clouts would of ruined the Kid had they landed, there was no more chance of them landin' than there's a chance of me bein' favorably mentioned in Rockfeller's will! Twice the Arabian giant fell flat on his pan as the result of missin' wild haymakers and Kid Roberts

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/357


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/358

 danced around him cuttin' him to ribbons, but apparently unable to put him away on account of his uncalled for size.

At first the crowd was thunderstruck by the Arab's clownish exhibition, then enraged and fin'ly convulsed with laughter at his weird antics. As matters went along, the sheik got better—as an entertainer. Every time one of the Kid's busy gloves thudded home into some part of his rapidly reddenin' body, Thomas would wow the customers by howlin' a wild Arabian oath and gallopin' madly around the ring, the while makin' horrible faces at the Kid. Even repeated warnin's from the almost hysterical referee failed to improve Mr. Arab's style, though it did make him look longin'ly at that official, like he would love to smack him down.

But the real thrills of the evenin' was yet to come! The mob had paid fancy prices to see a fight and not no circus. They soon got tired laughin' and begin a bedlam of groans, jeers and squawks for their money back. Cushions, programs, pop bottles and similar confetti begin hurtlin' into the ring and the place was in a uproar. Ptomaine loudly beseeched me to let him through the ropes and take just one punch at the Arab, as here at last is a guy he knows he can knock off!

The referee disgustedly leans down over the ropes and tells the merrily guffawin' reporters that he's about made up his mind to stop this farce and call it "no contest," when the Arabian nightmare takes matters into his own hands. Infuriated at his inability to connect solidly with the grinnin' Kid Roberts, Thomas

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/358


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/359

 suddenly rushes blindly into a clinch and durin' the mix-up which follows, he deliberately sinks his flashin' teeth in the Kid's left ear!

Leapin' Tuna! You should of heard that crowd!

When the startled referee recovered his senses, he immediately stopped proceedin's and raised Kid Roberts' gloved hand, awardin' the champion the fight on a foul amidst the wildest confusion. That was O. K.—the referee couldn't do nothin' else—but it wasn't enough for Ptomaine Joe! This gent prob'ly thought the already overfed patrons hadn't yet had enough amusement for their money and he decided to personally remedy the shortage.

Enraged by the cannibal tactics of the Arab in tryin' to graze from the Kid's ear, Ptomaine broke away from me and jumped into the ring. His face is as grim as a death sentence as he starts for the bitin' sheik's corner—he looks business, what I mean! The foreigner's handlers, Rough House Williams and Two-Punch McGazzatti, rush forward to protect their man, but the thoroughly burnt up Ptomaine was in no mood for nonsense. Had them babies tackled Ptomaine one at a time they might of stopped him, but they tried to gang him and that was their hard luck! Ptomaine whinnied, "Come on, like it!" with pure delight and tied into them. When the smoke of battle cleared away, both of Ptomaine's former conquerors was stretched flat on the canvas as cold as a loan shark's heart! All Ptomaine got out of it was two or three deep breaths.

The coppers swarm into the ring as Thomas, with

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/359


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/360

 a angry bellow, gets off his stool to come to the rescue of his seconds. That was what you might call a illadvised move! Ptomaine curls his lip at the Arabian, then, apropos of nothin', he puts the entire weight of his two hundred odd muscular pounds behind a right swing which clipped his tête-à-tête right on the button. The Arab hit the floor like he fell off the city hall roof and he couldn't of got up had he been called by Gabriel! Cheers which quivered the buildin's foundations greeted Ptomaine's three knockouts and then the attendance stumbled and milled hurriedly to the exits as the blood-thirsty chef leans over the ropes and howls for more victims. The admirin' coppers looked at him and become ungruff as they politely asked him to leave the ring and finish his killin's elsewhere.

"Well, boys—that was the last one!" says Kid Roberts to the sport writers in his dressin' room, whilst Ptomaine is impatiently tryin' to be interviewed. "Regardless of what the future may hold for me, I'm through with the ring forever! I'm retiring an undefeated champion, but I don't want the title. Let the others fight it out for"

"It makes great copy, Kid!" butts in one of the younger reporters, excitedly. "Your wife at the ringside during your last fight—plenty of human interest and color there, eh?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" asks the Kid, turnin' pale. "My wife is at Albany!"

"Your wife was in a box, four rows back of me!" says the reporter. "D'ye mean to say you didn't know she was here?"

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/360


text:
Page:Following the Equator (Mark Twain).djvu/529

 erous impulses; he lived and died famous for these fine and rare qualities; yet when he found out what was happening to that unwatched sleeve, he took the precaution to suck that one dry first. The miseries of the Black Hole were able to change even a nature like his. But that young gentleman was one of the twenty-three survivors, and he said it was the stolen perspiration that saved his life. From the middle of Mr. Holwell's narrative I will make a brief excerpt:

"Then a general prayer to Heaven, to hasten the approach of the flames to the right and left of us, and put a period to our misery. But these failing, they whose strength and spirits were quite exhausted laid themselves down and expired quietly upon their fellows: others who had yet some strength and vigor left made a last effort at the windows, and several succeeded by leaping and scrambling over the backs and heads of those in the first rank, and got hold of the bars, from which there was no removing them. Many to the right and left sunk with the violent pressure, and were soon suffocated; for now a steam arose from the living and the dead, which affected us in all its circumstances as if we were forcibly held with our heads over a bowl full of strong volatile spirit of hartshorn, until suffocated; nor could the effluvia of the one be distinguished from the other, and frequently, when I was forced by the load upon my head and shoulders to hold my face down, I was obliged, near as I was to the window, instantly to raise it again to avoid suffocation. I need not, my dear friend, ask your commiseration, when I tell you, that in this plight, from half an hour past eleven till near two in the morning, I sustained the weight of a heavy man, with his knees in my back, and the pressure of his whole body on my head. A Dutch surgeon who had taken his seat upon my left shoulder, and a Topaz (a black Christian soldier) bearing on my right; all which nothing could have enabled me to support but the props and pressure equally sustaining me all around. The two latter I frequently dislodged by shifting my hold on the bars and driving my knuckles into their ribs; but my friend above stuck fast, held immovable by two bars.

"I exerted anew my strength and fortitude; but the repeated trials and efforts I made to dislodge the insufferable incumbrances upon me at last quite exhausted me; and towards two o'clock, finding I must quit the window or sink where I was, I resolved on the former, having bore, truly for the sake of others, infinitely more for life than the best of it is worth. In the rank close behind me was an officer of one of the ships, whose name was Cary, and who had behaved with much bravery during the siege (his wife, a fine woman, though country born, would not quit him, but accompanied him into the prison, and was one who survived). This poor wretch had been long raving for water and air; I told him I was determined to give up life, and recommended his gaining my station. On my quitting it he made a fruitless attempt to get my place; but the Dutch surgeon, who sat on my shoulder, supplanted him. Poor Cary expressed his thankfulness, and said he would


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/361

 But Kid Roberts has dashed out the door!

When I got to our hotel with Ptomaine later, I found a note from the Kid in my box to the effects that if I expected to see him before the next mornin' I was crazy. How the so ever, if anything come up that I had to get hold of him I could reach him at Rhinelander 87449. In the telephone novel, that number's listed as the home of my athalete's wife!

Well, the next day Kid Roberts showed up at our inn about noon. He's gaily whistlin' a tune and looks ten years younger than he did the night before in the ting, what I mean. Honest, he capers about the room like a schoolboy, without no explanation of what's detained him, why, and what the Indianapolis is the matter with him. How the so ever, at last my peevish questions gets startlin' results. The Kid stops his whistlin' selection long enough to inform me that Dolores really was among those present at the "battle" the night before. Without givin' me time to recover from that bit of unlooked for news, he adds happily that him and Dolores has kissed and made up and she's goin' to leave the state senate flat on its vertebræ!

"You see, Joe," says Kid Roberts, "Dolores had to attend the fight last night in her official capacity as a senator, through her being on a committee investigating the alleged brutality of boxing contests in New York."

"I get you," I says. "Well, the only thing brutal about that bout was the prices they charged the fans for viewin' it!"

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/361


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/362

 "Exactly!" frowns the Kid. Then he brightens up again. "However, Dolores realizes that it was the admirers of boxing who put her in the senate and she doesn't wish to betray them by voting to suppress the sport. At the same time, she personally still believes pugilism brutal and degrading and her conscience won't allow her to vote in favor of its continuance. So she has agreed with me that the best way out of her dilemma is to resign. Besides, Dolores is about fed up on politics, as sordid to her now as my—eh—former profession. She thinks she can be a much more useful citizen in her home with her husband than in the state senate, Joe."

"What a talk you must of released last night to sell her all that!" I says, in honest admiration.

"We're going on a round-the-world trip for a second honeymoon," smiles Kid Roberts. "Sail in a couple of weeks." He suddenly turns to Ptomaine Joe, which has been glumly listenin' to all this interestin' conversation—silent for the first time in his life! "How about you, Ptomaine?" the Kid asks him. "You're a married man, now, you know, and have serious responsibilities. What are you going to do?"

at this approachin' separation from his god, Ptomaine blinks a few times, clears his throat and mumbles that he don't know what he'll actually do, but what he feels like doin' is jumpin' off the dock!

Kid Roberts laughs and pats him on the back.

"You're just a big, overgrown kid, Ptomaine," he says, affectionately. "How do you like this proposition? Yvonne will of course accompany Mrs. Halli-

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/362


text:
Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/363

 day—would you care to go along with your wife as—as—well, bodyguard and valet until we return, and then, why—by Gad, I have it, you can practise your culinary arts in my kitchen!"

"Hot towel!" bellers Ptomaine, knockin' me half ways across the room with a joyful slap on the shoulders. "See what I got by bein' the cat's spats with a skillet!"

We left him and walked into the next room. Not just manager and fighter, but pals through the best and the worst of it for manys the year. The lump in my throat wasn't no tonsillitis and the moisture in the Kid's eyes didn't come from no cold in the head, either!

"Why not go with us, Joe?" says Kid Roberts, after a minute's embarrassin' silence.

I figured I'd bust out weepin' if I didn't take the air right away. Believe me, I felt plenty low!

"I can't spare the time now, Kid," I says, grippin' his hand and forcin' a smile. "I'll see you when you get back. I been tipped on a middleweight in Atlanta which they claim is the next champ. I'm goin' to dash down and look the boy over, just for fun—I looked you over just for fun once, remember?"

Now you tell one!

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/363


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/364

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/364


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/365

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/365


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/366

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/366


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/367

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/367


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/368

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/368


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/369

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/369


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/370

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/370


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/371

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/371


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/372

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/372


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/373

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/373


text: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/374

title: Page:Fighting Back (1924).pdf/374


text: Fighting Back

title: Fighting Back


text: Fighting Back/Round 1

title: Fighting Back/Round 1


text: Fighting Back/Round 2

title: Fighting Back/Round 2


text: Fighting Back/Round 3

title: Fighting Back/Round 3


text: Fighting Back/Round 4

title: Fighting Back/Round 4


text: Fighting Back/Round 5

title: Fighting Back/Round 5


text: Fighting Back/Round 6

title: Fighting Back/Round 6


text: Fighting Back/Round 7

title: Fighting Back/Round 7


text: Fighting Back/Round 8

title: Fighting Back/Round 8


text: Fighting Back/Round 9

title: Fighting Back/Round 9


text: Fighting Back/Round 10

title: Fighting Back/Round 10


text: Fighting Back/Round 11

title: Fighting Back/Round 11


text: Fighting Back/Round 12

title: Fighting Back/Round 12


text:
Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/194

190 as looks were concerned she was not going to cause him any anxiety. ‘Could we not have a little more light?’ he said, turning again to Ukon. ‘It is so irritating….’ Ukon lit a candle and came towards them holding it aloft in her hand. ‘It is rather heavy work to get started!’ he whispered, smiling. ‘Things will go better presently.’ Even the way she hung her head, as though frightened of meeting his eyes, reminded him so vividly of Yūgao that it was impossible for him to treat her as a stranger; instinctively indeed he began to speak to her in a tone of complete familiarity as though they had shared the same house all their lives: ‘I have been hunting high and low for you ever since you were a baby,’ he said, ‘ and now that I have found you, and see you sitting there with a look that I know so well, it is more than I can bear. I wanted so much to talk to you, but now…’ and he paused to wipe the tears from his eyes, whilst there rushed to his mind a thousand tender recollections of Yūgao and her incomparable ways. ‘I doubt,’ he said at last, reckoning up the years since her death, ‘whether true parent has ever reclaimed a child after so long a search as I have made for you. Indeed so long a time has passed that you are already a woman of judgment and experience, and can tell me a far more interesting story of all that has befallen you on that island of yours than could be told by a mere child. I have that compensation at least for having met you so late….’

What would she tell him? For a long while she hung her head in silence. At last she said shyly: ‘Pray remember that like the leech-child, at three years old I was set adrift

title: Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/194


text:
Page:The Incas of Peru.djvu/404

364

That singer, unseen and unknown, Has declared Coyllur's beauty and grace; He should fly hence, where grief overwhelms. O Princess! O loveliest Star, I alone am the cause of thy death, I also should die with my love.
 * Piqui Chaqui. Perhaps thy star has passed away,

For the heavens are sombre and grey.
 * Ollantay. When they know that their Chief has fled,

title: Page:The Incas of Peru.djvu/404


text:
Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/195

Rh upon the ocean. Since then I have been stranded in a place where only such things could befall me as to you would seem nothing at all.’ Her voice died away at the end of the sentence with a half-childish murmur, exactly as her mother’s had done long ago. ‘I was “sorry for you” indeed,’ he said, ‘when I heard whither you had drifted. But I am going to see to it now that no one shall ever be sorry for you again.’ She said no more that night; but her one short reply had convinced him that she was by no means a nonentity, and he went back to his own quarters feeling confident that there could be no difficulty in launching her upon a suitable career. ‘Poor Tamakatsura has lived in the country for so long,’ he said to Murasaki later, ‘that it would not at all have surprised me to find her very boorish, and I was prepared to make every allowance…. But on the contrary she seems very well able to hold her own. It will be amusing to watch the effect upon our friends when it becomes known that this girl is living in the house. I can well imagine the flutter into which she will put some of them,—my half-brother Prince Sochi no Miya for example. The reason that quite lively and amusing people often look so gloomy when they come here is that there have been no attractions of this kind. We must make as much play with her as possible; it will be such fun to see which of our acquaintances become brisker, and which remain as solemn as ever.’ ‘You are certainly the strangest “father”!’ exclaimed Murasaki. The first thing you think of is how to use her as a bait to the more unprincipled among your friends. It is monstrous!’ ‘If only I had thought of it in time,’ he laughed, ‘I see now how splendidly you would have served for the same purpose. It was silly of me not to think of it; but, somehow or other, I preferred to keep you all to myself.’ She flushed slightly as he said this, looking younger and

title: Page:A Wreath of Cloud.djvu/195