The Happy Warrior Part 48

What he had been saving up came poisonously to his mind as he stood there, driving away even the flavour of the admiration he felt he was receiving. At last the price for that "Foxy" he had been dubbed and had endured. At last that price! Folk had come to the booths to see j.a.phra's Gentleman, had they!--A price for that! That smack in the mouth an hour ago!--A price for that! a big price and he would have it to the full!

The foxy smile contracted his mouth and eyes as he began to draw the scarf from his neck, slipped the long yellow coat, and peeled a sweater. A delighted cry went up from his supporters--good old Foxy had done them the honour of appearing in his cla.s.s ring kit! j.a.phra, whispering last earnest words in Percival's ear, looked up at the cry, and twisted up his face at what he saw. Naked but for the tight boxing trunks and boxing boots, Pinsent declared himself a rare figure of a fighting machine. j.a.phra knew the points. Pinsent threw out his arms at right angles to his sides and drew a long breath. j.a.phra saw the big round chest spring up and expand as a soap bubble at a breath through the pipe--the cleft down the bone between the big chest muscles; the tense, drumlike look of the skin where it swept into waist from the lower ribs; the ridge from neck to shoulder on either side where the head of the back muscles showed; the immense span of the arms, rooted in great hitting shoulders that, at such length and along such well-packed arms, would drive the fists like engine rods. He scaled a shade over ten stone, j.a.phra guessed. Percival would be little above nine-and-a-half; and in Pinsent's uncommonly long legs--their length accentuated by the brief boxing-drawers--j.a.phra saw a further and most dangerous quality in his armoury. He swung an arm and side-stepped to his left as j.a.phra watched; and j.a.phra's lips twitched. The left leg not slid the foot but lifted it and put it away and down, more with the ease of an arm action than of a leg--as a spider lifts and places; up, two feet away, the body perfectly poised on the right; down, and in a flash the body alert upon it--down, and in a flash the arm extended and back again with the stab of a serpent's tongue. There went up a murmur of applause at the consummate ease of the action, and j.a.phra turned to Percival with whispered repet.i.tion of last words.

"Thou seest that?" he whispered. "Thou must follow, follow; press him; give him no rest. In-fighting, in-fighting, quick as thou canst hit!"

Earnest anxiety was in his voice as he spoke and in his lined face that was all twisted up so that every line became a pucker, as a withered apple that is squeezed in the hand.

"Now bide me a last time," he said. "He hath no bowels for punishment.

There is a coward streak in him--I have seen it. That thou must find by following, following--quick as thou canst sling them. Good for thee that he has chosen the knuckle. Thou hast used thy hands. That fox yonder hath been too fine a swell these years to pull and carry, s.h.i.+ft and load as thou hast done. He will rue his choice when his knuckles bruise; thine like stone. He will use his tongue on thee, mocking thee. Pay no heed to that. He will use his ring tricks. Watch for them. Up now! they are ready for thee. My life is in this fight, little master--punish, punish, punish; give him no peace--it resteth on that. All the luck!"

He slipped Percival's coat, and Percival stepped across the canvas and went where Pinsent waited him in the centre. He wore the dress in which he boxed in the booth--white flannel trousers, a vest of thin gauze, white canvas shoes with rubber soles. He carried his arms at his sides, twisting up his fingers to make toughest those fists that j.a.phra had said were like stone. He held his head high, looking straightly at Pinsent; stopped within an arm's length of him and turned his eyes informatively to Boss Maddox, then direct into Pinsent's again.

His covered limbs joined with his few pounds' lesser weight to make him appear the slighter figure of the two. "Going to eat him!" a voice behind Pinsent broke out.

"Going to muddy well eat him!" and Pinsent's mouth and eyes contracted into their foxy smile at the words.

"Ready?" from Boss Maddox. "All right, Stingo. Get along with it."

"Time!" said Stingo's husky whisper; and, as a hand laid to the wire of dancing puppets, the word jerked both figures into movement.

CHAPTER V

A FIGHT THAT IS TOLD

I

They tell that fight along the road to-day. Old men who saw it want never a listener when the talk turns on boxing and they can say: "Ah, but I saw j.a.phra's Gentleman and Foxy Pinsent back in Boss Maddox's time."

I tell it as it is told.

Why (the old men say), why, this j.a.phra's Gentleman, mark me, he was one of the quick-ones--one of the movers, one of the swift-boys, one of the dazzlers, one of the few! He come in _tic-tac! tic-tac!

tic-tac!_--quicker'n my old jaws can say it: _Left-right! left-right!

left-right!_--like his two fists was a postman's knock. Pinsent never see nothing like it. He was one of the cla.s.s ones, this Pinsent--one of the pretty ones, one of the sparrers, one of the walk-rounds, talk-rounds, one of the wait-a-bits; never in no hurry, the cla.s.s-ring boys--all watching first to see what a man's got for 'em. He muddy soon saw, Foxy! Foxy never see nothing like it. First along, he prop this quick-boy off, an' prop him off, an' prop him off; an' catch him fair and rattle him, an' smash him one and stagger him, an' side-step an' shake him up; but still he come, and still he come, and still he come; _tic-tac! tic-tac! tic-tac!_ ah, he was one of the quick-ones, one of the dazzlers, one of the steel-boys.

Pinsent never see nothing like it. He come back after the first round thinking this was novice stuff--going all out like that from the gong--and laughin' at the bustle of it, an' Buck Osborn an' Nut Harris an' his boys laughin' back at him. Second round he come back an' give a bit of a spit on the ground an' ease up his trunks an' look thoughtful. Third round he step back slowly 's if he'd a puzzle to think about,--third round I mind me Dingo, Dingo Spain, chip him friendly while he pa.s.s the sponge over him, and Foxy turn on him like he had the devil in his eyes. "What in h.e.l.l's that to you?" he give him. "Keep your grins in your ugly mouth," he give him, "lest you want me to wipe it for you!" He was rattled some, that foxy one; not hurted much--one of the tough ones, Foxy--but bothered by it an' not quite sure what to make of it, like a man with a wops buzzin' round his head--that was the like of it with that quick-boy comin' at him, an'

comin' at him, an' comin' at him.

Ay, but he was one of the tough ones, Foxy--one of the lie-lows, one of the s.h.i.+fty ones, one of the snaky-boys, one of the cautions! He went out fourth round for to serve it up to that quick-boy with some of his crafty bits. I like a bit o' craft meself. I was a Maddox man, me, an' I set up a holler, an' we all holler, take my word, when we see Foxy servin' of it up to that quick-boy like he lay hisself to do then.

Give his tongue to him a treat, he did. Walkin' out to him--tiptoe an'

crouchin' at him. "What, you're in a hurry, my gentleman!" he chips him. "You'll make yourself hot, my pretty pet, if you don't steady down," he chips him. "That's not lady's manners, runnin' about like you've been," he chips him.

That quick-boy come at him an' he slip a bit of craft on him quick as a snake. Side-step, he did, that foxy one; an' duck an' say, "Where's your manners?" an' rake his head across an' b.u.t.t that quick-boy's stomach so he grunts; an' up an' hook him one, an' follow him an' lash him one, an' "Mind your manners, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he says an' half across the ring an' waitin' for him. Three times he b.u.t.t him so, an' each time hook him one, an' all the time lip-lippin' of him, an' us boys hollerin' an' Stingo's boys hollerin' an' the animals in the cages hollerin' back on us. Holler!--I mind me I was in a fair muck sweat with it.

Back he goes again, next round, that foxy one, an' "Why, dear, dear, you've got some beauty-spots on your face, my pretty gentleman!" he chips him. "Come an' let's paint 'em up a bit for you, my little lady!" he chips him. Ay, that was a round, that one! That j.a.phra,--a rare one that Gipsy j.a.phra--had been talkin' to that quick-boy whiles he had him on his knee; an' when he comes in, an' that foxy one goes to rake him with b.u.t.tin' him again, he step back, that quick-boy, for to cut him as he come out. I see the move--but that foxy one! All craft that foxy one was--one of the snaky ones, one of the tough boys, one of the coves! 'Stead o' swingin' through with his head, he swing up and hook his left 'un with it, an' chin that quick-boy one, an' "Paint!" he says, "There's paint for you, you dog!" an' lash him one where he had a little mouse-lump over his eye; an' true enough, the paint splits across an' comes streaky down that quick-boy's face.

You'd ha' thought--I lay me I know what that foxy one thought. Blood fierce went that foxy one when he see that blood, an' in he goes, fierce after blood, for to finish it; leaved off his craft and went in for to hammer him. He muddy soon goed back to craft again, Foxy! That quick-boy shook his head an' run back; an' draws a breath an' meets him; an' throats him one an' staggers him; an' draws a breath an'

follows him; an' pastes him one an' grunts him; an' _tic-tac! tic-tac!

tic-tac!_ an' follows him, an' follows him, an' follows him. Like a wops he was--like a bull-tamer he was, an' that foxy one gets all muddled with him, an' runs back puzzled with him, an' then catches hold of hisself, an' stops hisself--I reckon he wondered where 'n h.e.l.l he'd be soon if he didn't--and puts in that duck an' b.u.t.t craft again; an'

that quick-boy steadies for him like old j.a.phra bin teachin' of him; an' when that foxy one swings across, that quick-boy smashes up under him--_crack!_ like a stone-breaker with his hammer; an' that foxy one come back to us with his mouth split, an' his chin red; an' while he sit blowin' take a toof out; an' while he sit blowin' get it drip-drop on his chest from where the blood run to his chin.

II

But Percival had suffered under the punishment of these savage encounters, and under the immense exertions of that unceasing in-fighting to which j.a.phra had urged him. Back on j.a.phra's knee, "I've dosed him, j.a.phra," he said. "He's taking all I can give him."

There was a sob in his quick breathing as he spoke, and he smiled weakly and leant back against j.a.phra's shoulder.

j.a.phra's eyes were sunk in his twisted face to twin points of glistening light. His voice trembled, and his hand as he plied the sponge. "He will not drink much more," he said. "Thou art hot after that coward streak in him. I mark the signs of it. Keep up the dose, master! Never such a fight--and never thy like! never thy like!

Follow him, son of mine--follow him! follow him! A last call on thyself! Watch him where he sucks his tender knuckles."

Pinsent knew better than j.a.phra the tenderness of those bruised knuckles of his: he knew too that he was housing an uneasy feeling beneath his belt, born of the bewildering persistence of his opponent and of the punis.h.i.+ng fists which that persistence pressed upon him, giving him no peace. He was sore; he had reached the point when blows were beginning to hurt him--and that was a point beyond which he knew it was dangerous for him to delay proceedings.

Again! He came forward with a trick in his mind that he had seen and that he had once playfully practised on Buck Osborn. Thought of it helped him to his foxy smile that was a grotesque burlesque of itself as he made it with his swollen mouth; but again!--again that steel-springed fury was on him, following him, following him, following him. Pinsent must needs use his fists to try to check its rushes; when he effected a savage blow the jar at his knuckles made him wince.

Twice he went backwards round the ring--a third time and feinted a stumble as he moved his feet. It made his chance. Percival, coming too quick, ran full into him. He ducked, then drove up his head with all his force beneath the other's jaw.

The trick succeeded better than when he had seen it and marked it for future use. Jarred to the point of unconsciousness, Percival staggered back, his arms wide. At the exposed throat Pinsent drove his left fist with all the driving power his body and legs could give it; with the dull _wup!_ of a wet sheet beaten on stone Percival went his full length and full length lay.

"Time!" throated Stingo; and at the word the facing crowds, that as one man had caught their breaths, went into two tumults of jostling figures, tossing arms, and of brazen throats before whose thunders, beating the air like thunder's self, j.a.phra, Ginger Cronk, s...o...b..ll White, and One Eye bent their heads as they came rus.h.i.+ng forward.

"Time!" j.a.phra snarled at Pinsent. "Out of this, thou foul-play fox!"

"Out you!" Pinsent shouted. He stood over the prostrate form, breathing quick, one arm curved back as if it held a stabbing sword: "Out you! Enough o' this! Private between him an' me now. Stand out and let him up for me! Out!"

"Boss! Boss!" j.a.phra called, and dropped on his knees by Percival, dizzily rising on an elbow. "Boss! Boss! What's this? Order him out! Have him out!"

"Play fair!" "Fight fair!"--with cries and oaths the Stingo men pressed to the canvas, shaking fists aloft; with cries and oaths and tossing fists were answered. A Stingo man put his leg over the canvas and half his body into the ring: a leg and flushed face struck out on the other side. Then in a rush men broke across the canvas, poured into the ring, and met in two raging, foul-mouthed banks that strained about the boxers.

Boss Maddox thrust his way forward. "Ge' back! Ge' back! I'll have 'ee out the tent, every man of 'ee! Ge' back! Ge' back! By G.o.d, I'll have the lamp out!" And he fought his way back to the mast and stretched his hand to the chain that released the extinguishers upon the burners.

A Stingo and a Maddox man, catching each the other's eye as the two sides bayed and jostled, made private cause of the common brawl, and closed with clutching hands. Another pair engaged, and now another--whirled in that tossing mob, and flung the crowd this way and that in their furious grappling, like fighting tigers in a stockade breaking in pieces at their violence.

Boss Maddox's iron throat like a trumpet across the din: "The light goes! The light goes!"

It flickered; savage hands tore at the fighters, savage feet kicked furious commands; flickered again--and suddenly the immense clamour went to a cry, to a broken shout, to peace.

Pinsent pushed his way to the front. "Easy, Boss--I want that light.

I've a job to finish," he said; and in the laugh that went up, added, "The boys 'll be all right." He threw his arms apart in gesture of command. "Out o' the ring!" he cried. "You're robbin' me of it.

Gettin' his wits back! I'd ha' cut him out by now!"

Three parts supporting Percival, j.a.phra with Ginger Cronk and the rest had taken him back through the mob and supported him while they tended him.... The tumult gave him five minutes, and he was sitting up as the men returned growling to their places. He looked at Ima, crouching by him, read the entreaty in her eyes, and answered it and at the same time answered j.a.phra's trembling "How of it, master?" by shaking his head. "No!" he said, "No!" and felt j.a.phra's arms tighten about him.

Another heard him and pressed forward. It was Egbert Hunt, tears running down his face.

"You ain't going on?" he cried. "You ain't going on! Stop it, Mr.

j.a.phra! Stop this murder!"