Adventure, November 1915 — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

af eV Ae T* @ RES Sy dr) yy) Neston yD ae 136 come back, after a four-year absence from the ring. Billy had seen a dozen try to do it, and every single one had failed. His one advantage lay in the fact that he was still unbeaten. Mike Connolly was popular, as most flashy fighters are while their star is in the ascendent; and he had advertised himself thoroughly of late. Billy was mere history. His name was known, but his personality was utterly forgotten. Connolly had spent most of the evening in the hall, had let the crowd see him, and had been cheered and joshed between each preliminary bout. The spectators felt as if they owned him before ten o’clock came, and unconsciously they had begun to look on Billy Blain as an outsider. / For the first time since he had begun to fight in the United States, Billy did not have O’Hanlon for his second. Usually the huge Irishman’s tornado voice had bellowed him encouragement from his corner, and had drowned the opposition jeers; but on this occasion O’Hanlon had private and differ- ent instructions, and proceeded to carry them out while a mechanic from the shop looked after Billy, crawling unapplauded through the ropes. While the roars of applause for Connolly were all but lifting off the roof, and nobody was thinking of O’Hanlon, that gentleman sought out the referee and backed him off into a corner of the ring. “Speakin’ just as man to man,” said Terence, ‘I’m in favor of an absolutely on-the-level fight. Did ye ever see a thing like that?”’ He produced a one-inch washer from his right hip pocket, and held it out for Engle- hart to see. Englehart said nothing. “T can throw one of those,”’ said Terence, curling his long forefinger round the washer lovingly, “‘so good that the man I singled out would drop dead in his tracks. D’ye get me?” “What about it?” “Count slow, that’s all!” “How d’ye mean?” “This. Yecan’t have me put out o’ here, for I’ve bought my seat, and I’m one of the principals as well. I’ll be sittin’ there down by the ringside, in the middle of the front row. Ye might remember that.”’ “What’s that got to do with me?” “This. I’m partial to a slow count. No favoritism. One second full between each Adventure count. Same for both men, whichever’s down. Get me?” Englehart said nothing, but began to sidle off. “There'll be no fight and all bets ’ll be off,” advised O’Hanlon, “‘if ye try to have a thing done tome. Just you remember, and ye’re all right!” “They can’t come back! They can’t come back! They can’t come back!’ the crowd began to shout, with monotonous in- sistency, and the referee believed it. After all, he thought, why worry? There would be no need to do any dirty work. “T always count slowly,” he said, nodding to O’Hanlon. : “Three to one on Connolly!” yelled an enthusiast at the far end of the hall. ‘Three to one against Blain!’ echoed a man at the ringside, displaying a fat roll of yellowbacks in proof that his offer was not mere hot air. O’Hanlon caught Billy’s eye, and Billy nodded to him. O’Hanlon pulled out the last five hundred dollars of the mortgage. money and bet it against fifteen hundred of the other man’s. - “That’s the lot!” he reflected cheerfully. “We're up against it now and no mistake! Here’s hoping the little runt’s. got a good left punch. He'll need it!’’ He found another man had occupied his ringside seat when he got back to it—a fat, pompous individual, who grinned straight up at him and said, “Indeed?” “Get out o’ this!” commanded Terence. “Hush, you idiot!’ warned an attendant. ¢ ‘That? s——”” “The —— he is,” swore Terence. “He ought to know better!” He stooped and picked up the interloper by an arm and leg, swung him once, and pitched him out over the heads of the seeth- ing crowd behind. The roar of delight and the momentary scuffle where he landed, drowned what the referee was saying, but drew that gentleman’s attention to O’Han- lon once again. He appeared to be a man quite ready to do violence—a man to be on guard against, at least! The men were back in their corners, waiting for the bell, before the crowd had quite recovered from the shock of having a fat man flung above its heads. BILLY looked dwarfed and meager and disconsolate compared to Con- nolly. At the call of time he step- ped to the center warily. His movements EOMMIC WOO KS (E@)