The Syracuse Journal, Volume 6, Number 45, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 5 March 1914 — Page 4

free 50- Noteheads 50 Envelopes Never before has The Journal made an offer to its subscribers that has been so wisely and freely responded to as this one. Everyone knows the value of printed stationery these days, and now you have the opportunity of securing, absolutely free, 50 Noteheads and 50 Enve- ’ lopes, with your name and address printed thereon, with every year’s subscription to THE JOURNAL Paid in Advance Or if your subscription is already paid, in advance, or in case you are a non-subscriber, and would like to secure this stationery, we will print you 50 Noteheads and 50 Envelopes for 50c. This Offer Is Permanent. Stationery ready Ist of each month. The Journal Is $1.50 Per Year

Buy the Flour with the ship on $ ’* And you win have bread which will l b \ Improve your health || ! /f ; Add to your pleasure •| “• / As well as be your earning capacity, g I wfflßß/ Remember the GERBELLE is the ». Flour you want. - | Made by THE GOSHEN MILLING COMPANY | Goshen, Indiana

i FREE Sewing Machines | | Are Insured B >) Avator Sewing Machines 1 $13.50 J Some Sleighs, Bob Sleds and Storm Buggies. Birdsell W agons of High Grade. & Ask us about the Carbo Steel I I Fence Post —line, corner and end. Steel King and One Minute Wash E Machines. Come and look at the things you heed for spring. QUALITY COUNTS 1 | E. E. Strieby |

I Seeds That Will Grow XIX MIX XIX MIX MIK MIX '> You may get seeds at many places, but if you buy them ;; of us you may be sure they will grow and after they have ! grown you will have the variety that you expected. ;: We have an endless variety of «seeds in package or bulk ;; and invite you to make your selection here. BS9SSS KINDIG & COMPANY ! SYRACUSE, INDIANA

i G6e ■; h Abysmal Brute ii o o :: By JACK LONDON H <• * * n $ Coyyrifhi, WI3. by The Ceotary Co. * ♦ ♦ As a result of his light with Kelly, though the general opinion was that he had won by a fluke. Pat was matched with Rufe Mason. This took place three weeks later, and the Sierra club audience at Dreamland rink failed to see what happened. Rufe Mason was a heavyweight, noted locally for his cleverness. When the gong for the first round sounded both men met in the center of the ring. Neither rushed. Nor did they strike a blow. They felt around each other, their arms bent, their gloves so close together that they almost touched. This lasted for perhaps five seconds. Then it happened, and so quickly that not one in a hundred of the audience saw. Rufe Mason made a feint with his right It was obviously not a real feint, but a feeler, a mere tentative threatening of a possible blow. It was at this instant that Pat loosed his punch. So close together were they that the distance the blow travel-' «d was a scant eight Inchs. It was a short arm left jolt, and it was accomplished by a twist of the left forearm and a thrust of the shoulder. It landed flush on the point of the chin, and the astounded audience saw Rufe Mason’s legs crumple under him as his body sank to the floor. But the referee had seen, and he promptly proceeded to count him out. Again Pat carried his opponent to his corner, and it was ten minutes be- ' s SKig wKil! T/ 1 S'mSi J wo “What happened?” he queried hoarsely. fore Rufe Mason, supported by his seconds, with sagging knees and roll Ing, glassy eyes, was able to move down the aisle through the stupefied and incredulous audience on the way to his dressing room. “No wonder,” he told a reporter, “that Rough House Kelly thought the roof hit him.” After Chub Collins had been put out In the twelfth second of the first round of a fifteen round contest Stubener felt compelled to speak to Pat. “Do you know what they’re calling you now?” he asked. Pat shook his head. “One Punch Glendon.” Pat smiled politely. He was little interested in what he was called. He had certain work cut out which he must do ere he could win back to his mountains, and he was phlegmatically doing it, that was all. “It won’t do.” his manager continued. with an ominous shake of the head “You can’t go on putting your men out so quickly You must give them more time.” , “I’m here to fight, ain’t I?” Pat deI w<b<d in surprise Again stuoener shook his head. “It’s this way. Pat You’ve got to be big and generous in the fighting game. Don’t get ail the other fighters sore. And it’s not fair to the audience. They want a run for their money. “Besides, no one will fight you. They’ll all be scared out. And you can’t draw crowds with ten second fights. I leave it to yolj. Would you pay $1 or $5 to see a ten second fight?” Pat was convinced, and he promised to give future audiences the requisite run for their money, though he stated that, personally, he preferred going fishing to witnessing a hundred ropnds of fighting. CHAPTER IV. PAT had got practically nowhere in the game. The local sports laughed when his name was mentioned. It called to mind funny tights and Rough House Kelly’s remark about the roof. Nobody knew how Pat could fight They had never seen him. Where was, his'wind, his stamina, his ability to mix it with rough customers through long grueling contests? He had demonstrated nothing but the possession of a lucky punch and a depressing proclivity for flukes. So it was that his fourth match was arranged with Pete Sosso, a Portuguese fighter from Butchertown, known only for the* amazing tricks he played in the ring. Pat did not train for the fight. Instead he made a flying and sorrowful trip to the mountains to bury his father. Old Pat had known well the condition of his heart, and it had stopped suddenly on him. Young. Pat arrived back in San Fran-

dosFT margin of time that he changed into ids fighting togs directly from his traveling suit, and even then the audience wu kept waiting ten minutes. “Remember, give him a chance,” Stubener cautioned him as he climbed through the ropes. “Play with him, but do it seriously. Let him go ten or twelve rounds, then get him.” Pat obeyed instructions, and, though It would have been easy enough to put Sosso out. so tricky was he that to stand up to him and not put him out kept his hands full. It was a pretty exhibition, and the audience was delighted. Sosso’s whirlwind attacks, wild feints, retreats and rushes required all Pat’s science to protect himself, and even then he did not escape unscathed. Stubener praised him in the minute rests, and all would have been well had not Sosso in the fourth round played one of his most spectacular tricks. Pat, in a mixup, had landed a hook to Sosso’s jaw, when to his amazement the latter dropped his hands and reeled backward, eyes rolling, legs bending and giving, in a high state of grogginess. Pat could not understand. It had not been a knockout blow, and yet there was his man all ready to fall to the mat. Pat dropped his own fiands and wonderingly watched his reeling opponent. Sosso staggered away, almost fell, recovered, and staggered obliquely and blindly forward again. For the first and the last time in his fighting career Pat was caught off his guard. He actually stepped aside to let the reeling man go by. Still reeling, Sosso suddenly loosed his right Pat received it full on bis jaw with an impact that rattled all his teeth. A great roar of delight went up from the audience. But Pat did not hear. He saw only Sosso before him. grinning and defiant and not the least bit groggy. Pat was hurt by the blow, but vastly more outraged by the trick. AU the wrath that his father ever had surged up in him. He shook his head as if to get rid of the shock of the blow and steadied himself before his man. it all occurred in the next second. With a feint that drew his opponent. Pat fetched his left to the solar plexus, almost at the same instant whipping his right across to the jaw. The latter blow landed on Sosso’s mouth ere his falling body struck the floor. The club doctors worked half an hour to bring him to. After that they put eleven stitches in his mouth and packed him off In an ambulance. “I’m sorry,” Pat told his manager. “I’m afraid I lost my temper. I’ll never do It again in the ring. Dad always cautioned me about it He said it had made him lose more than one battle. I didn't know 1 could lose my temper that way. But now that 1 know I’ll keep it in control.” And Stubener believed him. He was coming to the stage where he could believe anything about his young charge. “You don’t need to get angry.’* he said. “You’re so thoroughly the master of your man at any stage.” “At any inch or s |pond of the fight," Pat affirmed. “And you can put them out any time you want’’ “Sure I can. 1 don’t want to boast, but I just seem to possess the ability. My eyes show me the opening that my skill knows how to make, and time and distance are second nature to me Dad called it a gift, but 1 thought he was blarneying me. Now that I’ve been up against these men, I guess he was right He said I had the mind •nd muscle correlation.” “At any inch or second of the fight” Stubener repeated musingly. Pat nodded, and Stubener, absolutely believing him, caught a vision of a golden future that should have fetched old Pat out of his grave. “Well, don’t forget, we’ve got to give the crowd a run for its money.” he aald. “We’ll fix it up between us how many rounds a fight should go. Now pour next bout will be with the Flying Dutchman. Suppose you let It run the full fifteen and put him out in the last round. That will give you a chance to make a showing as well.” “All right, Sam,” was the answer. “It will be a test for you,” Stubener warned. “You may fail to put him out in that last round.” “Watch me.” Pat paused to put weight to his promise and picked up a volume of Longfellow. “If I don’t I’ll never read poetry again, and that’s going some.” “You bet it is,” his manager proclaimed jubilantly, “though what you see in such stuff is beyond me.” Pat sighed, but did not reply. In all his life he had found but one person

J JI “You know he’s novor y«t boon knocked out by any one.” who cared for poetry, and that had been the red haired schoolteacher who scared him off into the woods. “Where are you going?” Stubener demanded in surprise, looking at his watch. __ - . . _

Pat, with his hand on the doorknob, paused and turned around. “To the Academy of Sciences.” he said. “There’s a professor who’s going to give a lecture there on Browning tonight, and Browning is the sort of writer you ueed assistance with. Sometimes 1 think I ought to go to night school.” “But, great Scott, man!” exclaimed the horrified manager. “You’re on with the Flying Dutchman tonight!” “I know it. But I won’t enter the ring a moment before half past 9 or quarter to 10. The lecture will be over at 9:15. if you want to make sure come around and pick me up in your machine.” Stubener shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “You've got no kick coming.” Pat assured him. “Dad used to tell me a man's worst time was in the hours just before a fight and that many a fight was lost by a man’s breaking down right there, with nothing to do but think and be anxious Well, you’ll never need to worry about me that way. You ought to be glad I can go off to a lecture.” And later that night, in the course of watching fifteen splendid rounds. Stubener chuckled to himself more than once at the idea of what that audience of sports would thiuk. did it know that this magnificent young prizefighter had come to the ring directly from a Browning lecture. The Flying Dutchman was a young Swede, who possessed an unwonted willingness to tight and who was blessed with phenomenal endurance. He never rested, was always on the offensive and rushed and fought from gong to gong. In the outfighting his arms whirled about like flails; in the Infighting he was forever shouldering or half wrestling and starting blows whenever he could get a hand free. From start to finish he was a whirlwind, hence his name. His failing was lack pf judgment in time and distance. Nevertheless he had won many fights by virtue of landing one in each donen or so of the unending fusillades of punches he delivered. Pat, with strong upon him the caution that he must not put his opponent out, was kept busy. Nor, though he escaped vital damage, could he avoid entirely those eternal flying glovt*. But it was good training, and in a mild way he enjoyed the contest. “Could you get him now?" Stubener whispered in his ear during the minuate rest at the end of the fifth round. “Sure.” was Pat’s answer. “You know he’s never yet bean knocked out by any one.” Stubener warned a couple of rounds later. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to break my knuckles.” Pat smiled. “I know the punch I’ve got in me. and when I land it something has got to go. If he won’t my knuckles will.” “Do you think you could get him now?” Stubener asked at the end of the thirteenth round. “Any time. I tell you.” “Well, then. Pat. let him run to the fifteenth.” In the fourteenth round the Flying Dutchman exceeded himself. At the stroke of the gong he rushed clear across the ring to the opposite corner, where Pat was leisurely getting to his feet The house cheered, for It knew the Flying Dutchman had cut loose. Pat. catching the fun of it. whimsically decided to meet the terrific onslaught with a wholly passive defense and not to strike a blow. Nor did he strike a blow nor feint a blow during the three minutes of whirlwind that followed. He gave a rare exhibition of stalling. sometimes hugging his bowed face with his left arm, his abdomen with his right, at other times changing as the point of attack changed, so that both gloves were held on either s»de his face or both elbows and forearms guarded his mid section, and all the time moving about, clumsily shouldering or half falling forward against his opponent and clogging his efforts, himself never striking nor threatening to strike, the while rocking with the impacts of the storming blows that beat upon his various guards the devil’s own tattoo. Those close at the ringside saw and appreciated, but the rest of the audience, fooled, arose to its feet and roared its applause in the mistaken notion that Pat, helpless, was receiving a terrible beating. With the end of the round the audience, dumfounded, sank back into its seats as Pat walked steadily to his corner. It was not understandable. He should have been beaten to a pulp, and yet nothing had happened to him. “Now, are you going to get him?” Stubener queried anxiously. “Inside ten seconds,” was Pat’s confident assertion. “Watch me.” There was no trick about it. Whan the gong struck and Pat bounded to his feet he advertised it unmistakably that for the first time in the fight he was starting after his man. Not on« onlooker misunderstood. The Flying Dutchman read the advertisement. too, and for the first time in his career as they met in the center of the ring visibly hesita ed. For the fraction of a second they faced each other in position. Then the Flying Dutchman leaped forward upon his man, and Pat. with / timed right cross, dropped him cold as he leaped. It was after this battle that Pat Glendon started on his upward rush to fame. The sports and the sporting writers took him up. For the first time the Flying Dutchman had beon knocked out. His conqueror bad proved a wizard of defense. His previous victories had not been flukes. He had a kick in both his hands. Giant that he was, he would go far. . ■ The time was already past, the writers asserted, for . him to waste himself on the third raters and chopping blocks. Where wtjre Ben Menzies, Rege Rede, Bill Tarwater and Ernest Lawson? ; It was time for them to meet this young cub that bad suddenly shown himself a fighter of quality. Where was his manager anyway, that he was not tb® challenges? (To be continued —) Our circulation is the largest, have your sale appear in our paper.

BUSINESS

J. H. BOWSER Physician and Surgeon Tel. 85—Offiice and Residence Syracuse, Ind. D. S. HONTZ Dentist All branches of work usually practiced by the profession. Investigate our new filling material. AUCTIONEER Cal. L. Stuckman Phone 535, Nappanee, Ind. You can call me up without expense. lIJTT & XANDERS Attorneys-at-Law Practice in all Courts Money to Loan. Fire Insurance. Phone 7 SYRACUSE, IND. B. &0. Time I able. . EAST WEST No. 16—12:44 p, m No. 17—6:19 a. m No. 8— 2:o& p. m No. 15—4:40 a. m No. 18— 7:35 p.m No. 11—2:20p. ni No. 6— 8:45 p. m No. 7—1:45 p. m No. 14 due at 1:03, No. 10 due at 11:00 and No. 12. due at 9:iß. Horse and Automobile Livery Good equipages for every occasion. Reasonable prices for drives anywhere. Hack service to the depot Fare 10 Genu Each Way HENRYSNOBfIRGER Barn on Main Street Phone 5 EARNEST RICHART W ■ al *mi 1 PUBLIC AUCTIONEER A worthy successor to Lincoln Cory See Geo. 0. Snyder at the Journal office for dates. M. MANLY, WARSAW, INDIANA Abstracts of Titles to Real Estate. You can-, save money by sending me your orders. Orders May Be Left at Syracuse State Bank

| J. W. ROTHEIVBERGER I UNDERTAKER | Prompt and Efficient Service Phones 90 and 121 J Cushion tired Ambulance in connect: on | 64»t»eaBMe4>imH*i>**»*****>**t**e****A* < **** ♦♦♦6 ll II M !»»♦»♦♦♦♦ i reach Fie » , Peach pie is always an 1 ! acceptable desert. Near- A , ly everyone likes it. ; Peaches as a desert are ' H equally as good. / > We have as fine a brand \ ) ! of peaches as was ever - I canned. Try just one > can. . I • Si bowrrlGcfl’ > Dishes We have a number of odd dishes, broken sets, ct., ■ that will sell at a rem irk- '“ ably low price. f ave # «£■-’. your good dishes. C >me /■' and buy some of our odd pieces for everyday ase. It will save you mom y. SEIDER & BURGENER