The Syracuse Journal, Volume 6, Number 47, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 19 March 1914 — Page 4

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| afe i; n Abysmal i: Brule •• By JACK LONDON •• :: *• :: • • Ceyyrlfht, I9U, by The Ceotey C*. • An<f then famte came In a day, for Stubener divulged the secret that his matt was none other than the son of Pat Glendon, old Pat. the old time ring hero. Young Pat Glendon. he was promptly christened, and sports and writers flocked about him to admire him and back him and write him up. Beginning with Ben Menzies and finishing with Bill Tarwater, he challenged. fought and knocked out the four, semnd raters. To do this he was Compelled to travel, the battles taking place In Goldfield, Denver, Texas and New York. To accomplish it required months, for the bigger fights were not easily arranged, and the men themselves demanded more time for training. The second year saw him running to cover and disposing of the half dozen big fighters that clustered just beneath the top of the heavyweight ladder. On this top, firmly planted, stood “Big” Jim Hanford, the undefeated world champion. Here on the top rungs progress was slow-er, though Stubener was indefatigable in Issuing challenges and In promoting sporting opinion to force the man. to fight Will King was disposed of in England, and Glendon pursued Tom Harrison halfway around the world to defeat him on boxing day in Australia. CHAPTER V. BUT the purses grew larger aflo larger. In place of SIOO, such as his first battles had earned him, he was now receiving from $20,000 to $30,000 a fight, as well as equally large sums from the moving picture men. Stubener took his manager’s percentage of all this according to the terms of the contract old Pat had drawn up, and both he and Glendon, despite their heavy expenses, were waxing rich. This was due more than anything else to the clean lives they lived. They were not wasters. x Stubener was attracted to real estate, and his holdings in San Francisco, consisting of building flats and apartment houses, were bigger than Glendon ever dreamed. There was a secret syndicate of betters, however, which could have made an accurate guess at the size of Stubener*s holdings, while heavy bonus after heavy bonus, of which Glendon never beard, was paid over to his manager by the moving picture men. Stubener’s most serious task was in maintaining the Innocence of bis young gladiator. Nor did he find it difficult. Glendon, who had nothing to do with the business end. was little interested Besides, wherever his travels took him. he spent his spare time in bunting and fishing. He rarely mingled with those of the sporting world, was notorious ly shy and secluded and preferred art galleries and bopks of verse to sport Ing gossip. Also, bls trainers and sparring part ners were rigorously instructed by the manager to keep their tongues away from the slightest hints of ring rottenness. In every way Stubener intervened between Glendon and the world. He was never even interviewed save in Stubener’s presence. Only once was Glendon approached It was just prior to his battle with Henderson, and an offer of SIOO,OOO was made to him to throw the tight. It was made hurriedly, in swift whispers, in a hotel corridor, and it was fortunate for the man that Pat controlled his temper and shouldered past him without reply. He brought the tale of it to Stubener, who said: “It’s only con, Pat They were trying to josh you." He noted the blue eyes blaze. “And maybe worse than that. If they could have got you to fall for it there might have been a big sensation in the papers that would have finished you. But 1 doubt It “Such things don’t happen anymore. It’s a myth, that’s what it is. that has come down from the middle history of the ring. There lias been rottenness in the past but no fighter or manager of reputation would dare anything of the sort today. “Why. Pat. the men in the game are as dean and straight as those in professional baseball, than which there is nothing cleaner or straighter." And ail the while he talked Stubener knew in his heart that the forthcoming fight with Henderson was not to be shorter than twelve rounds—this for the moving pictures—and not longer than the fourteenth round. And he knew, furthermore, so big were the stakes involved, that Henderson himself was pledged not to last beyond the fourteenth. And Glendon, neve* approached again, dismissed the matter from his mind and went out to spend the afternoon in taking color photographs. The camera had become his latest hobby. Loving pictures, yet unable to paint, be had compromised by taking up photography. In his band baggage was one grip packed with books on the subject, and be spent long hours in the dark room, realizing for himself the various processes. Never had there been a great fighter who was as aloof from the fighting world as he. Because he had little to say with those be encountered he was called sullen and unsocial, and out of this a newspaper reputation took form that was not an exaggeration so much as It was an entire misconception. Boiled down, his character in print was that of an ox muscled and dumbly

• fog writer dnbbid'hlm the “abysmal ‘ brute." The name stuck. The rest of the > fraternity hailed it with delight, and ’ thereafter Giendon’s name never ap- • peered in print unconnected with IL ; Often, in a headline or under a photo - graph, “The Abysmal Brute,” capitalized and without quotation marks, ap- ’ peered alone. All the world knew who was this ; brute. This made him draw Into him > i self closer than ever, while it devel- ; I oped a bitter prejudice against newspaper folk. Regarding fighting Itself, his earlier mild interest grew stronger. The men Hi hO I I i I | vui “It’s only con, Pat.” he now fonght were anything but dubs, and victory did not come so ' easily. They were picked men. experienced ring generals, and each battle j was a problem. There were occasions when he found it Impossible to put them out in any designated later, round of a fight Thus with Sulzberger, the gigantic Germa u. try as he would in the eighteenth round, he failed to get him. In the nineteenth it was the same story, and not till the twentieth did he manage to break through the baffling guard and drop him. a Glendon's increasing enjoyment of the game was accompanied by severer and prolonged training. Never dissipating, spending much of bls time on hunting trips In the hills, he was practically always in the pink of condition, and, unlike his father, no unfortunate accidents marred his career. He never broke a bone, nor injured so much as a knuckle. One thing that Stubener noted with secret glee was that his young fighter no longer talked of going permanently back to his mountains when he had won the championship away from Jim , Hanford. The consummation of his career was rapidly approaching. The great champion had even publicly Intimated his readiness to take on Glendon as soon as the latter bad disposed of the three or four aspirants for the champion ship who intervened. In six months Pat managed to put away Kid McGrath and Philadelphia lack Mcßride, and there remained only Nat Powers and Tom Cannam. And all would have been well had not a certain society girl gone adventuring • journalism, and had not Stube- . ner agreed to an interview with the. woman reporter of the San Franclscd Courier-Journal. Her work was always published over the name of Maud Sangster, which, by : the way, was her own name. The Sangsters were a notoriously wealthy family. The founder, old Jacob Sangster, had packed his blankets and worked as a farm band in the west. He had discovered an inexhaustible borax deposit in Nevada, and, from hauling it out by mule teams, had built a railroad to do the freighting. Following that he J had poured the profits of borax into: the purchase of hundreds and thou- j sands of square miles of timber lands • In California, Oregon and Washington. 1 Still later he had combined politics with business, had bought statesmen, judges and machines and become a captain of complicated Industry. And after that he had died, full of honor and pessimism, leaving his name a 1 muddy blot for future historians to smudge, and also leaving a matter of • a couple of hundreds of millions for j his four sous to squabble over. The legal, industrial and political battles that followed vexed and amused California for a generation and cul-• minated in deadly hatred and unspeak- j tag terms between the four sons. The youngest Theodore, in middle life experienced a change of heart, sold out his stock farms and racing stables and plunged into a fight with all the corrupt powers of his native state, including most of its millionaires. in a quixotic attempt to purge It of the infamy which had been implanted by Old Jacob Sangster. Maud Sangster was Theodore’s oldest daughter. The Sangster stock uniformly bred fighters among the men and beauties among the women, nor was Maud an exception; also she must have inherited some of the virus of adventure from the Sangster breed, for she had come to womanhood and done a multitude of things of which no woman in her position should have been guilty. A match in ten thousand, she re-I mained unmarried She bad sojourned in Europe without bringing home a nobleman for spouse and had declined a goodly portion of her own set at home. She had gone in for outdoor sports, won the tennis championship of the state, kept the society weeklies agog with her unconventionalities, walked ■ from San Mateo to Santa Cruz against time on a wager and once caused a i sensation by playing polo in a men’s; team at a private Burlingame practice I OTBfc Ipeldeqtallg qhe fryt gQhO taj

for art and maintained a studio In" San Francisco’s Latta quarter. All this had been of little moment until her father’s reform attack became acute. Passionately Independent, never yet having met the man to whom she could gladly submit and bored by those who had aspired, she resented her father’s Interference with her way of life and put the climax on all her social misdeeds by leaving home and going to work on the Courier-Journal. Beginning at S2O a week, her salary had swiftly risen to SSO. Her work was principally musical, dramatic and art criticism, though she was not above mere journalistic stunts if they promised to be sufficiently interesting. Thus she scooped the big interview with Morgan at a time when he was being futilely trailed by a dozen New York star journalists, went down to the bottom of the Goldeff Gate in a diver’s suit and flew with Rood, the I In . “What de they want to come butting into the game for?” bird man, when he broke all records of continuous flight by reaching as far as Riverside. Now, it must not be imagined that Maud Sangster was a hard bitten amazon. On the contrary, she was a gray eyed, slender young woman of three or four and twenty, of medium stature and possessing uncommonly small hands and feet for an outdoor woman or any other kind of a woman. Also, far in excess of most outdoor women, she knew how to be daintily feminine. It was on her own suggestion that she received the editor’s commission to interview Put Glendon. With the exception of having caught a glimpse once of Bob Fitzsimmons in evening dress at the Palace grill, she had never jeen a prizefighter in her life. Nor was she curious to see one—at feast she had not been curious until , young Pat Glendon came to San Fran- | cisco to train for his fight with Nat ' Powers. Then his newspaper reputation had aroused her. CHAPTER VI. THE abysmal brute! It certainly must be worth seeing. From what she read of him she gleaned that he was a man monster, profoundly stupid and with the sullenness and ferocity of a jungle beast ' True, his published photographs did ■ not show all that, but they did show the hugeness of brawn that might be expected to go with it And so, acompanled by a staff photographer, she went out to the train- ; tag quarters at the Cliff House at the hour appointed by Stubener. That real estate owner was having trouble. Pat was rebellious. He sat one big leg dangling over the side of the armchair and Shakespeare’s “Sonnets” face downward on his knee, orating against the new woman. “What do they want to come butting into the game for?’’ be demanded. ; “It’s not their place. What do they ■ know about it anyway? The men are ; bad enough as it is. I’m not a holy i show. This woman’s coming here to 1 make me one. I never have stood for women around the training quarters, and I don’t care If she is a reporter." "But she’s not an ordinary reporter," Stubener interposed. “You’ve heard, of the Sangsters, the millionaires?’* i Pat nodded. j “Well, she’s one of them. She’s high ; society and all that stuff. She could i be running with the Blingum crowd ■ now if she wanted to instead of working for wages. Her old man’s worth $50,000,000 if he’s worth a cent” i “Then what’s she working on a paj per for—keeping some poor devil out of a job?” “She and the old man fell out had a tiff or something, about the time he started to clean up San Francisco. She quit, that’s all—left home and got a Job. And let me tell you one thing. Pat She can everlastingly sling English. There isn’t a pen pusher on the coast can touch her when she gets going.” Pat began to show interest, and Stubener hurried on: “She writes poetry, too, the regular ladedah stuff, just like you, only I guess hers Is better, because she published a whole book of it once. And she writes up the shows. She interviews every big actor that hits this burg." . “I’ve seen her name in the papers," | Pat commented. “Sure you have. And you’re honored, Pat, by her coming to interview you. It won’t bother you any. I’ll stick right by and give her most of the dope myself. You know I’ve always done that" Pat looked his gratitude. "And another thing, Pat don’t forget youlve got, to put up with thia ia(To be continued—) i Our circulation is the largest, have I your sale appear in our paper.

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