Adventure, November 1915 — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

fe, | The RETURN of BILL by WALTER GALY BLAIN Author of “The Second Rung,” “Dorg’s Luck,” “Love and War.” HY a man whose given name was Aaron, and whose father came from Poland, should have chosen Sweeny for a business name is neither here nor there; the point is that the - proprietor of ‘““Sweeny’s Colosseum”’ sat on a tilting chair in the little inner office and looked gloomy. “You come to talk bull or business, which?” he demanded. _ Had he removed his patent-leathers from the dusty windowsill, it might have sug- gested interest, so he left them there. “I want to fix a fight date for my man “Connolly,” said Ephraim Strobinski, test- ing a decayed chair-cautiously. With." f “Dunno yet. Want to pump you first.” “Ym dry. Dunno nuthin’. Tell you this though: the bottom’s dropped clear out o’ the fight game, welterweight division particularly. Ain’t a chance. Public’s sick o’ seein’ bum fights between a pair o’ pugs afraid to lean against each other. I don’t believe I’d take a dollar-at the gate, not if Connolly ’ud guarantee to kill a man or give the money back!” “Aw, have a cigar!” said Ephraim. ‘Take somethin’ for it! Connolly’s cham- pion. Why, they pay to come and see him in vaudeville, and if you want inside dope 127 ee a I from the man who’s most interested— which the same is me—he’s got the bum- mest act that ever was.” ‘Well, ain’t you satisfied? Ain’t you get- tin’ yours?” : ‘Ten per cent. I’ve a contract with him, calls for ten of the vaudeville receipts for me and fifty-fifty of the fight money. Stands to reason he’s all for the stage an’ I’m all for the real thing.”’ “Real thing, eh? What’s real about Mike Connolly beatin’ up a ‘hope,’ ’xcept the hope’s headache? Who’d buy a seat to watch? Couldn’t get a mam who’d go three rounds an’ take the beating for less ’n two fifty. Connolly ’ud want two thousand. Where ’ud I come in? _ “There’s only one man left that ’ud draw a nickel’s worth in a fight with Connolly. He ain’t forgotten yet, and he wasn’t ever licked. He’d draw a houseful. But they can’t come back and he knows it.” ‘“‘Who d’ye mean?” “Blain. Billy Blain.” “Him? Why, he hasn’t fought for four years. His missus made him quit. A guy who’d throw over a good living—and the limelight—on a woman’s say-so wouldn’t have the nerve to fight Mike anyhow. Think up a real live one.” Mr. Sweeny bit the end off a cigar, ECOmicboo