Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

FISTS Georgia cracker clear to the bone. In fact, he was all bone and muscle, and stood about six feet two in his socks, if he ever had worn any, which I doubt. ‘“ Prize fightin’ in those days had not be- come a gentle art. Men fought for the love of fightin’; there was no prize. There were no three-minute rounds and two-minute rests, and a man didn’t go down, take a count of ten seconds, and spend the rest of the evening supping and dancing in a cabaret. No, sah! A fight was a—well, a fight. ‘As I was saying, this foreman of ours was just naturally a champion. He didn’t have a press agent nor a manager, but if any one wanted a fight with him all he had to do was to mention the fact, and he got it. After Dave had licked about every eligible in this county and the next, he had ac- quired such a reputation that there seemed to be no one left who cared to join him in his favorite pastime. He just naturally pined so for a fight that we all felt sorry for him, 3 ‘“ About this time my father received a letter from an old friend, who had gone West, bought a ranch and engaged in cat- tle raising. He had prospered, and now owned a great ranch and many head of cattle. But his great difficulty was a lack of help, and he wrote that it was especially hard to get—and keep—a good foreman. He seemed to lose an average of a man a month, on account of gunplay. The West was sparsely populated then, and at this rate he would soon have no one to run his ranch. What he needed was a man who could restrain the homicidal ardor of his cow-punchers. In his dilemma he turned to father for such a man. “We immediately thought of Dave, and as things were slow with us, father put it up to him. It was certainly a pleasure to see Dave’s face light up with joy at the prospect of handling that gang of rough- necks. Even after father explained condi- tions in the West, and impressed Dave with the fact that it wasn’t a case of fist fighting, but that if he had anything to say he must be prepared to ‘say it with guns,’ he was eager to go. “Well, Dave left us for new fields to FIRST. 799 conquer, and we felt pretty bad to think that Georgia’s best fist fighter might go down under a gun in the hands of some fellow who wasn’t game enough to stand up and fight like a man. “We were all kind of worried as the months passed by and there came no word from Dave. But at the end of a year father received a letter that filled us all with pride. ‘“ Dave’s boss wrote, thanking him again for sending Dave, and relating how he had reduced the death rate by convincing his gang that only a coward would use a gun to settle personal differences. He told them that a real man fought with his fists and got more satisfaction out of a good fight. His eloquence was so convincing that the men agreed to park their guns for a month, and during that period Dave proved his theories further by licking the whole outfit, one by one. “Well, we heard nothing further of Dave for some five or six years, when one morn- ing I was surprised to see his big form seated on the stump of a tree right on our own plantation. ‘“T hurried over to greet him. As I ap- proached he rose to his feet, and I noticed - that he did it with a great deal of difficulty. When I saw his face I stopped short. I can’t describe its condition, sah; I defy the best sport writer of modern times to do justice to it. “* Why, Dave,’ I exclaimed, ‘ what are you doing back in Georgia? And what on earth happened to you? Have you had a collision with a freight car?’ “One side of Dave’s battered mouth lifted in what was a sorry attempt at a smile, and his voice drawled sadly from between his swollen lips. ‘““* No, sah,’ he said; ‘I got a coupler weeks off from the ranch and came down home for a fight.’ “<Vou mean to say, man, you came all the way from Arkansas to Georgia for a fight? Have you killed off all those cow- punchers?’ I asked. ““* No, sah; they’re healthier than ever,’ he told me. ‘ But you see I gotter letter from ’—he hesitated—‘a certain party heah, tellin’ he was tired of hearin’ about EComicbdooks (S@)