10 Short Novels Magazine — page 128: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

e Boxing Paul Adams He was a slap-happy chump who ended his fights counting the seams on the canvas. But he played a long-shot risk on a remedy he knew was not a cure. HE manager sneered. The Kid went white. And in the arena the fight-mad customers bellowed over the delay of the semi-windup. Desperately ’ Fletch Brandell struggled for self-con- trol. But he was hopeless. Heading for the ring, he suffered all the agony of a ter- ror-crazed wretch on his way to the death chamber. “Your last chance, hound!” snarled Dude McCafferty, his manager. “If you 126 go into the tank tonight, you’re washed up—an’ I’m not crackin’ wise. Glue that to your alleged mind, slug. End up count- in’ the seams, an’ I’ll street you.” Fletch shuffled into the arena. He re- coiled from the madhouse din. McCafferty sent him ahead with a lift of his knee. “Tt ain’t time to faint yet, tanker!”’ the manager growled. ‘“‘You’ve sure made a prize sap outta me. Six months ago I had you tabbed as a million bucks on the hoof. -