An ominous murmur of voices, with a deep growling undertone, floated up
from the improvised gymnasium in the basement as Captain Pott entered
the swinging doors of Willow-Tree Inn. This was followed by a more
ominous silence. The seaman bounded down the steps. The sight that met
his gaze caused him to stop short. On each side of the low room men and
boys were drawn up in lines, and the division was as clean cut as though
chosen for a tug of war. The doors at the far end of the gymnasium swung
back, and a stranger, stripped to the waist, stepped gingerly into the
room. Sim Hicks met the man, and began to tie a pair of boxing gloves to
his hands. While the Captain looked on in utter amazement, the doors
again swung back, and Mack McGowan entered. He did not appear surprised
at sight of the crowd, as large audiences had become quite the common
thing during his boxing lessons. Hank Simpson came from out the shadows
and reluctantly tied another pair of gloves to the hands of Mr.
McGowan.
"What in tarnation is the meaning of this damn exhibition?" demanded the
Captain, turning to Jud Johnson, the plumber.
"It means there's dirty work on."
"You mean there's been a crooked deal put over on Mack?"
The plumber nodded.
"Who in hell----"
"Swearing ain't going to do no good, Cap'n. The parson don't stand for
it down here," cut in Jud.
"Whose doing is this?"
"We've got a pretty good idea who the cur is, but we ain't exactly
sure."
"Where'd he come from?"
"The city."
"Who brung him in here?"
"We ain't just sure of that, yet."
"What in h---- What's he cal'lating to do?"
"He figures to lick the tar out of the parson. And by the blazes of the
inferno, if he does----"
It was plain that civil war was to ensue if the contest went against Mr.
McGowan.
"How'd he git into such a scrape?"
"It looks like the work of that d--I wish the parson would let me swear
for once--Sim Hicks."
"You mean Hicks brought him in?"
"He come in here more'n a week ago and asked Mr. McGowan to give him
some lessons. Now the devil's to pay, and if we ain't 'way off Hicks
happens to be that devil."
"How----"
"For God's sake stop asking me questions or I'll cut loose and turn the
air blue round here."
"There ain't a feller living that can fight Mack on a week of training,"
declared the seaman.
"No one said he'd had no more'n a week of training."
"I don't give a tinker's dam if he's had all the training in creation,
he can't lick Mack McGowan and do it fair."
Jud shot the Captain a look of approval. "Them kind don't fight fair."
"But, Jud, I don't see the meaning of it, anyway."
"Then you're a heap sight blinder'n I thought. This thing's all fixed up
to help Hicks get the parson out of town. When the news of this fight
gets out into the church, they'll oust him like a shot from a cannon."
"Then why don't you fellers stop it afore it starts?" blazed the
Captain.
"Stop nothing. Hank's tried it, already."
Hank Simpson came across the room to where the Captain stood, looking
woe-begone.
"The minister says our fears ain't got no foundation about that feller
being crooked, and he won't listen to reason," declared the dejected
Hank.
"By the Almighty, he'll listen to me!" exclaimed the Captain.
"He wouldn't listen to his own mother if she was here. He says if what
we suspect is true, he couldn't show the white feather now. He's the
best sport I've ever seen, and I hate to see him beat up by that
white-livered slugger."
"I sha'n't see it!"
Captain Pott started toward the ring that was rapidly forming about the
boxers. He caught the minister's glance. He halted. In that glance there
was an expression which the Captain had come to recognize and respect.
Mack McGowan was going to take his medicine, or give it, and no one was
to interfere during the dose. The seaman dropped back into the shadow of
the stair.
The boxers faced each other. There was no doubt left in the minds of the
onlookers as to the profession of the stranger as he squared off for
action. The minister recognized, too, the trap that had been set for
him, but he gave no evidence of worry. He met the malicious grin of the
other with a friendly, but grim smile.
The stranger lost no time in preliminaries. He thought himself in full
possession of the minister's boxing ability, and he showed a great
amount of over-confidence. He had studied the other's speed, he had
spied into his style, he had tested his reach. Certainly, with all this
knowledge, he should have a picnic. He had been very careful on all
occasions to appear as nothing more than a novice. He was not unmindful
of the other's endurance, but hoping to make a quick end of the matter,
he tried to force the minister under full headway at once. He went at
him in a whirlwind rush. It seemed to the observers that Mr. McGowan
must certainly be swept from the floor.
But the minister was not caught off his guard. He quickly guessed the
other's intention. With a swiftness that took the breath of the
onlookers, he stepped aside, drew in his left toe under his right heel,
and faced to the right. It was done in a flash! With one long step he
swung out to the left of his adversary. Out of the range of terrific
blows, he smiled and made a closer study of his opponent, eye and brain
alert for information. It took but a moment, and he was facing the
stranger before the man was ready to meet him.
The Captain had never seen his young friend box with greater ease,
although the odds were against him in weight. He warded off blow after
blow with a precision that was maddening to the other. His foot-work was
as quick as that of a cat, and as sure. Again and again the stranger
would rush in with deadly intent, only to find himself blocked, or to
back away severely punished.
A breathless suspense hushed all rooting. The minister had dropped his
guard! Even the other boxer hesitated, as though he could not believe
his own eyes. Mr. McGowan had thrown back his head and shoulders as
though he had partially lost his foothold. The city boxer rushed in and
swung for the other's heart with all his weight behind the blow. When it
was too late he saw his mistake. He had been led into a trap, and the
very movement which had drawn the blow made it ineffective. With
lightning-like swiftness the minister stepped forward, delivered three
blows on his opponent's head with bewildering rapidity, and recovered
himself with ease and without exertion. The stranger recoiled, and for
an instant appeared to be under the impulse to run. But blind rage
seized him as his unexpected punishment began to sting, and he came
back like a madman. Mr. McGowan shoved aside or blocked the terrific
shower of fists with a coolness and precision that drove the stranger
momentarily insane. He bellowed like a mad bull. He began to slug with
the force of a pile-driver without any pretense to fairness. He leaped
from left to right, and back again, like an orangutan stirred to
frenzied anger. Mr. McGowan tried to stop him by calling time, but with
a foul oath he shot a stiff arm into the minister's abdomen. Decidedly
jarred, Mr. McGowan swayed back under the impact of the foul, but
recovered his footing in time to meet the other with a blow full in the
face. The stranger rushed in again, but Mr. McGowan ducked, landed his
glove with a heavy jar on his adversary's body, and cut the man's lip
with a right swing as he sprang to safety.
The sight and smell of his own blood sent the city pugilist into a
crazed frenzy. He threw his elbow into the minister's throat and hurled
him against the wall. Holding him there as though in a vise he landed a
wicked hook under the left ear. Sim Hicks gave an immoderate laugh. A
shout went up from the few who favored the stranger. A deep growl was
the answer from Hank Simpson and his following as they sprang forward.
They seized Mr. McGowan, tore him away from the maddened pugilist, and
led him to a box. Hank steadied him while Jud Johnson massaged the
bruised neck and bathed the bleeding ear. Sim Hicks crossed to where
they were at work.
"Have you got enough?" he asked with a sneer.
"No! And by thunder, you ain't got all that's coming to you, neither,"
growled Jud.
Mr. McGowan leaned heavily against Hank Simpson. As it was apparent that
his mind was beginning to clear, Sim Hicks came closer.
"Are you ready to call quits and stop your damned meddling in my
affairs?" persisted the Innkeeper.
Mr. McGowan shook his head, slowly. Then, with a start, he straightened.
Between the uprights of the stair-banister he had see two faces peering
down into the room. As his vision cleared a little more he saw that one
face was set between silky chops.
Captain Pott had not taken his eyes from the minister's face, but now he
followed the direction of his startled gaze.
"If it ain't that damned menagerie, Fox and Beaver!"
One of the two figures slipped up and out. The other, deeply engrossed,
did not budge. The Captain gave a mirthless chuckle and quietly crept up
the stair. He seized the heels of Mr. Beaver, dragged him bumping down
the stair, and dropped him beneath one of the lights. He gripped the
little man's collar, glanced menacingly into the distorted face, and
remarked:
"Paying off some of them infernal debts you spoke of?"
"L-Let m-m-me g-go! L-Looking's f-f-free, ain't it?" His thin voice rose
with each word till it reached a hissing shriek.
"Yes, the show seems to be free. And if I'm any judge, it's just begun,
so you may as well come down for it all."
Sim Hicks was swearing so loudly that the seaman turned in that
direction. The Innkeeper was shaking his fist in the minister's face.
Captain Pott dragged the squirming Beaver across the room.
"See here, Sim, you'd best shet that trap-door of yours, it's letting
out too much blue smoke, and the dominee don't permit swearing among the
boys. Cal'late I can give you some assistance if you're needing it,"
said the seaman, coming uncomfortably near. "As for that there slugger
of yourn, he's nothing but a white-livered cur of a coward."
"You take back those words, or I'll make you swallow them one at a
time!"
The threat came from the city pugilist, and the Captain swung about to
face him.
"This here is my friend you hurt,"--the seaman's eyes flashed with fury
as he jerked his thumb toward the minister,--"and I cal'late you'd best
apologize for what you've done to him."
"Why, you doddering old idiot! If you didn't want your little pet hurt,
you'd best have kept him home. I understand he's your special hobby."
"You'd best apologize," repeated the Captain in dangerous calm.
The pugilist laughed hoarsely. "When I do it will be in a hotter place
than where we are to-night. I did nothing----"
"Don't lie to me! I see what you done. Either you fight like a
man,--even if you ain't one,--or by the lord Harry----"
For emphasis he clutched the collar he still held, and Mr. Beaver
squirmed as though in fear of being hurled bodily into the face of the
city boxer. Sim Hicks sprang at the Captain's throat with a fierce leap
and an angry growl. But Sim picked himself up from a corner and rubbed
the blood from his streaming nose. The sight of the cringing Innkeeper
seemed to have a temporary effect upon the pugilist, but he quickly
recovered and bristled defiantly.
"You damned city cur! If you don't fight fair I'll measure you out on
the same spot!"
"You go to the devil!" said the man with a sneer.
"When I do I'll take a white-livered, yellow-haired cur along. You take
that grin off your face and stand up to Mack like a man. I'll act as
pilot from now on, and if I sight any more of your dirty tricks, may the
Lord have mercy on you, for I won't. Pitch in!"
The two men obeyed and faced each other. Except for a slight tightening
of the lips, Mr. McGowan gave no sign of having suffered from the severe
punishment because of the other man's foul. Those who had been standing
about the box, now jostled the other faction out of the ring, and
pressed closely about the Captain.
During the next fifteen minutes the boxers worked swiftly. Although the
stranger had publicly defied the seaman's orders to fight fair, yet it
was apparent to all that he was obeying them. Only once did he attempt a
foul. The Captain's quick eyes saw, and with a thundering command that
shook the room he checked the pugilist's stiff arm movement to the
throat. Then the end came. Mr. McGowan brought forward his head and
shoulders with his usual lightning-like swiftness in order to draw a
lead before the other was prepared for it, and at the same time he
accompanied the movement with a quick jerking back of his left hand as
though suddenly changing his mind. The city man did the rest. He halted.
Mr. McGowan stepped to the left just as the other delivered his spent
blow, and with the added weight of his moving body landed his right
glove against the stranger's ear. This was quickly followed with a
crashing upper-cut to the heavy jaw. There was a loud rending and
ripping of splintered wood as the big man fell through one of the thin
panels of the partition. He slid to the floor and lay motionless amidst
the wreckage.
Sim Hicks bawled at him to get up and go on with the fight. Mr. Beaver
squirmed and whined under the tightening grip like a beaten pup. The
crowd stood dumb with amazement. Few of those present had ever witnessed
the effect of a knock-out blow.
Mr. McGowan was the first to the side of the prostrate man. He lifted
him to his feet, and began walking him about. As the stranger regained
his senses, he smiled faintly at Hicks' repeated requests that the
fight be finished.
"How long was I out?" asked the pugilist.
Sim caught the savage glare in the Captain's eyes, and reluctantly
admitted that it had been over a minute.
"But this ain't no regular match!" he shouted.
The pugilist looked in the direction of the Captain as he drew away from
the minister and steadied himself against an upright.
"I guess we'll have to call it regular enough to go by rules," declared
the city boxer. "I'm beaten, Hicks."
"I was sorry to do it, but there seemed no other way. There was too much
at stake to run the risk of losing," said the minister. "May I say, sir,
that you are a good boxer?"
"Mr. McGowan,"--the stranger extended his hand with unaffected
cordiality,--"it's great of you to say that after what I tried to do to
you. I refused to apologize when that old fellow tried to make me, but I
do it now. I'm ashamed of the way I lost my head. If you'll accept my
apology, I'll accept your compliment."
"Gladly!" exclaimed the minister.
Beneath the rough exterior of this savage fighter there was the spirit
of the true sportsman. The two men removed their gloves and gripped bare
hands in a warm grasp.
"The fact of the matter is, you had me outclassed at every turn. Any man
who could do what you have done to-night, after I'd thought I'd spied on
you long enough to secure the key to all your strong points, could make
his fortune in the ring. I'm heartily ashamed that I made myself a party
to this plot to put you out. What your old friend has said is true: I'm
a cur and a white-livered coward to sneak in on you the way I did."
"See here!" shouted Sim Hicks, abandoning all caution, "ain't you going
to finish this little job you've been paid for?"
"It is finished, but it wasn't stipulated in the contract as to who was
going to do the finishing."
"You----"
"Shet that trap of yours, Sim. If you don't it's li'ble to get another
catch," threatened the Captain.
Hicks eyed the seaman, rubbed his swollen nose, and backed away.
Mr. Beaver did a corkscrew dance, and tried in vain to release the hold
on his collar.
"Cap'n Pott!" exclaimed the surprised minister who noticed for the first
time that the seaman was holding Mr. Beaver. "What on earth are you
doing?"
"Well, this little shrimp was mighty interested in the boxing, and I
thought he might as well come down for a few lessons that he wouldn't
forget right off. I cal'lated to give him a few myself."
Mr. Beaver's face was purple. His words would probably have been of the
same hue had there been any possibility of releasing them.
"Let him go, Cap'n, you're strangling him."
"He'd otter be choked, if he's as deep in this thing as I think he is.
But he ain't in no condition for a lesson to-night, he's a mite too
worked up. Harry, I'll let you off, but if this here yarn gets out into
the church through you or through the rest of the menagerie, we'll give
you the little lesson I spoke about, and it will stick like glue to your
anatomy. Now, you run along to Eadie, she'll be missing you, and I'd
hate to send you home mussed up."
Mr. Beaver ran. With a dart he shot for the stair.
The members of the club escorted Mr. McGowan to the Captain's home. As
he said good night, Hank Simpson came forward.
"Mr. McGowan, the fellers want to know if you'll be one of our members
in regular standing."
Mr. McGowan expressed his delight, and declared he would like nothing
better.
"He's 'lected, fellers!" shouted Hank.
A ringing cheer went up from the crowd. The Captain said to Elizabeth
the next morning, when recounting what had taken place, "I was 'feared
that Mack would be mad as hops the way them fellers carried on, but he
wa'n't, not a mite. He seemed tolerable pleased about it. When the
fellers asked a lot of foolish questions as to what was the matter with
Mr. McGowan, and then answered them by saying that he was all right,
Mack looked as happy as a school kid."
Hank once more whispered to the minister. The answer was apparently
satisfactory, for the boys gave a parting cheer, declaring that they
would all be present in church the following Sunday.