The Syracuse Journal, Volume 6, Number 51, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 16 April 1914 — Page 4

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I Sfe • i; p Abysmal ; Brute ■: By JACK LONDON o o I ♦ * o «• Coyy right, 1913, by The Center? Cn. • • ’• <!• ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦»»»»»»»» »»»»»»»» For two minutes, without the slight- | est letup. Powers went at him hammer and tongs. In another minute the round would be over and the betting syndicate hard hit. But that minute was not to be. They had just come together In the center of the ring. It was as ordinary a clinch as any in the fight, save that Powers was struggling aud roughing It every Instant. Glendon whipped his left over In a jrisp but easy jolt to the side of the face. It was like a score of dmilar jolts he had already delivered n the course of the fight. To his amazement he felt Powers go limp In his arms and begin sinking to the floor on sagging, spraddling legs that refused to bear his weight. He struck the floor with a thump, rolled half over on his side and lay with closed eyes and motionless. The referee, bending above him, was shouting the count. At the cry of “Nine!” Powers quivered as if making a vain effort to rise. “Ten—and out!” cried the referee. He caught Glendon’s hand and raised it aloft to the roaring audience in token that he was the winner. For the first time In the ring Glendon was dazed. It had not been a knockout blow. He could stake his life on that. It had not been to the jaw, but to the side of the face, and he knew it had gone there and nowhere else. Yet the man was out. had been counted out. and he had faked it beautifully. That final thump on the floor had been a convincing masterpiece. To the audience it was indubitably a knockout, aud the moving picture machines would perpetuate the lie. The editor had called the turn, after all, and a crooked turn it was. Glendon shot a swift glance through the ropes to the face of Maud Sangster. She was looking straight at him, but her eyes were black and hard, and there was neither recognition nor expression in them. Even as he looked she turned away unconcernedly and said something to the man beside her. Powers’ seconds were carrying him to his corner, a seeming limp wreck of a man. Glendon’s seconds were advancing upon him to congratulate hhu and to remove his gloves. But Stubener was ahead of them. His face was beaming as he caught Glendon’s right glove in both his hands and cried: “Good boy, Pat! I knew you’d do it.” Glendon pulled his glove away. And for the first time in the years they had been together his manager heard him swear. “You go to —!” he said and turned to hold out his hands for his seconds to pull off the gloves. That night, after receiving the editor’s final dictum that there was not a square fighter in the game, Maud Sangster cried quietly for a moment on the edge of her bed, grew angry and went to sleep hugely disgusted with herself, prizefighters and the world in general. CHAPTER IX. THE next afternoon she began work on an interview with Henry Addison that was destined never to be finished. It was in the private room that was accorded her at the Courier-Journal office that the thing happened. She had paused in her writing to glance at a headline in the afternoon paper announcing that Glendon was matched with Tom Cannam when one of the doorboys brought in a card. It was Glendon’s. ' “Tell him I can’t be seen,” she told the boy. In a minute he was back. “He says he’s coming in anyway, but he’d rather have your permission.” “Did you tell him I was busy?” she asked. 1 “Yes’ni, but he said he was coining just the same.” She made no answer, and the boy, his eyes shining with admiration for the importunate visitor, rattled on. “1 know ’in. He's a awful big guy. If he started roughhousing be could r | —I rSy ‘ A, /r J J “You didn’t,” ho retorted.

’ clean the whole office out He’s young . Glendon, who won the fight last night” ' “Very well, then. Bring him In. » We don’t want the office cleaned out ' vou know.” No greetings were exchanged when ! Glendon entered. ’ She was as cold and inhospitable ■ as a gray day and neither invited him '; to a chair nor recognized him with her i eyes, sitting half turned away from him at her desk and waiting for him ■ to state his business. He gave no sign of how this cavaI Iler treatment affected him. but plunged tF into his subject “I to talk to you,” he said short... ’That fight. It did end in [ that round.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I knew it would.” “You didn’t” he retorted. “You iidn’t I didn’t.” She turned and looked at him with quiet affectation of boredom. “What is the use?” she asked “Prizefighting is prizefighting, and we all know what It means. The fight did end In the round I told you it would.” “It did,” he agreed. “But you didn't know it would. In all the world you and I were at least two that knew Powers wouldn’t be knocked out in the sixteenth.” She remained silent. “I say you knew he wouldn’t.” He spoke peremptorily and. when she still declined to speak, stepped nearer, to her. “Answer me,” he commanded. She nodded her head. “But he was,” she Insisted. “He wasn’t. He wasn't knocked out at all. Do you get that? I am going fio tell you about it and you are going 'to listen. I didn’t lie to you. Do vou get that? I didn’t lie to you. I was a fool and they fooled me and you along with me. { “You thought you saw him knocked out. Yet the blow I struck was not heavy enough. It didn’t hit him in the right place either. He made be-' lleve it did. He faked that knockout.” He paused and looked at her expectantly, and somehow, with a leap and thrill, she knew that she believed him, and she felt pervaded by a warm happiness at the reinstatement of this man who meant nothing to her and whom she had seen but twice in her life. “Well?” he demanded, and she thrilled anew at the compellingness of him. She stood up, and her hand went out. to his. “I believe you,” she said. “And 1 am glad, most glad.” It was a longer grip than she had anticipated. He looked at her with eyes that burned and to which her own unconsciously answered back. Never was there such a man, was her thought. Her eyes dropped first, and his followed, so that, as before, both gazed at the clasped hands. He made a movement of his whole body toward her, Impulsive and involuntary, as if to gather her to him. then checked himself abruptly with an unmistakable effort. She saw it and felt the pull of his hand as it started to draw her to him. And to her amazement she felt the desire to yield, the desire almost overwhelmingly to be drawn into the strong circle of those arms. And had he compelled she knew that she would not have refrained. i She was almost dizzy when he checked himself and, with a closing of his fingers that half crushed hers, dropped her hand, almost flung it from him. “God,” he breathed; “you were made for me!” He turned partly away from her, sweeping his hand to his forehead. She knew she would hate him forever if he dared one stammered word of apology or explanation. But he seemed to have the way always of doing the right thing where she was concerned. She sank into her chair, and he into another, first draw-; ing it around so as to face her across the corner of the desk. “I spent last night in a Turkish bath,” he said. “I sent for ah old broken down bruiser. He was a friend of my father in the old days. I knew there couldn’t be a thing about the ring he didn’t know, and I made him talk. “The funny thing was that it was all I could do to convince him that I didn’t know the things I asked him about. He called me the babe in the woods. I guess he was right I was raised in the woods, and woods is about all I know. “Well, I received an education from that old man last night The ring is rottener than you told me. It seems everybody connected with it is crooked. The very supervisors that grant the fight permits graft off of the promoters, and th® promoters, managers and fighters graft off of each other and off the public. “It’s down to a system in one way, and, on the other hand, they’re always —do you know what the double cross Is?” She nodded. “Well, they don’t seem to miss a chance to give each other the double cross. “The stuff that old man told me took my breath away. And here I’ve been in the thick of it for several years and knew nothing of it. I was a real babe in the woods. And yet I can see how I’ve been fooled. I was so made that nobody could stop me. 1 was bound to win, and, thanks to Stubener, everything crooked was kept away from me. “This morning I cornered Spider Walsh and made him talk. He was my first trainer, you know, and he followed Stubener’s instructions. They kept me in ignorance. Besides, I didn’t herd with the sporting crowd. I. spent my time hunting and fishing and monkeying with cameras and such things. I “Do you know what Walsh and Stubener called me between themselves? The virgin. I only learned it ' this morning from Walsh, and it was like pulling teeth. And they were right. I was a little innocent lamb. “And Stubener was using me for crookedness, too, only I didn’t know it I can look back now and see how It was worked. But you see, I wasn’t 1 Interested enough in the game to be

“1 was born with a good body and a cool head. I was raised in the open, and I was taught by my father, who knew more about fighting than any man. living or dead. It was too easy. The ring didn’t absorb me. There was never any doubt of the outcome. But I’m done with it now.” She pointed to the headline announci g his match with Tom Cannam. “That’s Stubener’s work.” he explained. “It was programmed months ago. But I don't care. I’m heading for the mountains. I’ve quit." She glanced at the unfinished interview on the desk and sighed. “How lordly men are.” she said. “Masters of destiny. They do as they please"— “From what I’ve heard.” he interrupted. “you’ve done pretty much as you please. It’s one of the things I like about you. And what has struck me hard from the first was the way you and 1 understand each other.” He broke off and looked at her with burning eyes. “Well, the ring did one thing for me." he went on. “It made me acquainted with you. And when you find the one woman there’s just one thing to do—take her In your two hands and don’t let go. Come on. let us start for the mountains.” It had come with the suddenness of a thunderclap, and yet she felt that / ~b 1 “I don’t dare,” she said in a whisper. she had been expecting it. Her heart was beating up and almost choking her in a strangely delicious way. Here at least was the primitive and the simple with a vengeance. Then, too, it seemed a dream. Such things did not take place in modern newspaper, offices. Love could not be made In such fashion; it only so occurred on the stage and In novels. He had arisen and was holding out both hands to her. “I don’t dare,” she said in a whisper, half to herself. “I don’t dare.” And thereat she was stung by the quick contempt that flashed in his eyes but that swiftly changed to open ifiP' credulity. “You'd dare anything you wanted,” he was saying. “I know that. It’s not a case of dare, but of want. Do you want?” I She had arisen and was now swaying as if In a dream. It flashed into 1 her mind to w’onder if it were hypnotism. She wanted to glance about her at the familiar objects of the room in order to Identify herself with reality, but she could not take her eyes from his. Nor did she speak. He had stepped beside her. His hand was on her arm, and she leaned toward him involuntarily. i It was all part of the dream, and it 1 was no longer hers to question any- ' thing. ■ It was the great dare. He was right. She could dare what she wanted, and she did want He was helping her into her jacket She was thrusting the hat pins through her hair. And even as she realized it she found herself walking beside him through the opened door. The “Flight of the Duchess” and . “The Statue and the Bust” darted through her mind. Then she remembered “Waring.” “ ‘What’s become of Waring?* ” she murinured. “ ‘Land travel or sea faring?* ” he murmured back. And to her this kindred sufficient note was a vindication of her madness. At the entrance of the building he raised his hand to call a taxi, but was stopped by her touch on his arm. “Where are we going?” she breathed. I “To the ferry. We’ve just time to catch that Sacramento train.” “But I can’t go this way,” she protested. “I—l haven’t even a change of handkerchiefs.” He held up his hand again before replying. “You can shop in Sacramento. We’ll get married there and catch the night overland north. I’ll arrange everything by telegraph from the train.” As the cab drew to the curb she looked quickly about her at the familiar street and the familiar throng, then, with almost a flurry of alarm, into Glendon’s face. “I don’t know a thing about you,” she said. “We know everything about each other,” was his answer. She felt the support and urge of his arms and lifted her foot to the step. sThe next moment the door had closed, he was beside her and the cab was heading down Market street. He passed his arm around her. drew her close and kissed her. When next ■ she glimpsed his face she was certain that it was dyed with a faint blush. “I—l’ve heard there was an art In kissing,” he stammered. “I don’t know anything about it myself, but I’ll learn. You see, you’re the first wolian I ever kissed.” (To be continued —)

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