Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. advising Smithers to “ chop up the bloom- ing Yank!” Only one voice was raised for Hardwick—and that, Ginger Dick’s. They sparred for a moment and then they rained blows on each other, each seeking to batter the other into insensibility, disregard- ing the blows received; they did not move their feet; these seemed to be fastened to the line. Hardwick’s face and body was streaked with blood, presently the front of him showed all red—he seemed to be all one large wound. Smithers, on the other hand, was unmarked save that the red patch on his ribs was larger, more angry looking and he breathed loudly. And then Smithers got in an uppercut which landed flush on Hardwick’s jaw, sending him back and down with a deadly thud. He landed almost at Ginger Dick’s feet. Ginger Dick hastily procured a bucket of water and sloshed it over him, washing off the blood; showing that Hardwick was unmarked, that the blood was all from his nose. Then, as his man did not move but stared blankly with wide-open eyes at the dazzling blue of the skies, Ginger Dick bent down and bit his ear. Hardwick stirred fitfully, endeavoring to win back to consciousness. “ Get hup,” Ginger Dick shouted in his ear. ‘‘ Get hup an’ show that bleedin’ Hen- glishman that ’e can’t put a Yank down.” Hardwick rolled over slowly and slowly drew his feet up under him. “Show ’em yer got guts,” Ginger Dick shouted, and threw another bucketful of water over him. Hardwick raised himself on hands and knees, slowly, painfully straightened him- self and, taking a long drink from a bottle which some one thrust into his hands, weaved slowly toward the line, fell, crawled a few paces on hands and knees—his strength coming back to him with every passing moment—rose again and a moment later, swaying uncertainly, toed the line. “ Take yer time, cully,” shouted Ginger Dick in agonized tones. “Shut up!” growled one of the men. “Tt’s too late now. You should have held him back for a while.” 189 ‘“He’s going to take a long time.” Smithers panted as he measured himself for the blow which would put Hardwick away for good. He looked around triumph- antly at the crowd which watched in hun- gry anticipation. “ Quick!” screamed Ginger Dick, jump- ing up and down with excitement. His advice was superfluous. ‘“ Rat-tat! Rat-tat.”’ Hardwick got in four quick blows on Smithers’s ribs, receiving a hard jolt which was meant for his jaw but landed high on his forehead. Hardwick’s strength had come back to him. Years of clean living had endowed him with great recuperative powers. The blow which had knocked him down—al- most out—had been punishing at the time, but now! He laughed aloud and some of the men muttered: “The Yank’s mad. That knockdown’s made him loony.” Smithers looked at him doubtfully. A moment ago he was well-assured of an easy and quick victory. But now! The two men no longer paid heed to the line, but circled around each other, both over cautious until Smithers, rushing in, using elbows, head and knees, sent Hard- wick down again with the very impetuous- ness of his attack. ‘‘ Back to the line, Smithers,” the black- bearded man yelled as Smithers stood over Hardwick, waiting to hit him as soon as he got to his knees. With ill-grace he obeyed. He was breath- ing now through wide-opened mouth and each in-drawn breath sent a sharp, cutting pain through his body. He was uncom- fortably conscious of the sun’s terrific heat and the noise of the cheering spectators annoyed him. He wanted to finish this fight and go somewhere and sleep. So, when Hardwick regained his feet, Smithers did not wait for him to come to the line but rushed toward him. He was met with a stinging jab between the eyes. The unexpectedness of it hurt him more ~ than the blow. Hitherto Hardwick had confined his blows to the ribs. Again and again Hardwick jabbed him Comicbooks CO)