FISTICUFFS
Siebold, a keen-witted fellow and an athlete, was the leading spirit
among the sophomores of Marshallton Tech. He was class president, stood
easily at the head of his classes, if head there was, and in most things
he admittedly surpassed his fellows. His people being well-to-do, he
indulged in all the little "side kicks," as the boys termed sports,
social diversions and the like.
A really fine chap was Siebold, though he possessed one unfortunate
failing--he persisted in holding to a grudge; and he had never forgiven
Bill and Gus for that hazing fiasco, nor for bringing down the scorn of
the school on what had been considered a harmless kind of fun.
Of course, the school had a debating society, of which the membership
was from all classes. Bill joined it; Gus did not, and it was the only
thing in which they acted separately, with the exception of the
gymnasium. Bill was sorry he had joined the society, for upon being
chosen one of the three speakers on one side of a subject so decidedly
in their favor that the question should never have been selected as
offering a negative, Bill had so completely overcome the opposition led
by Siebold, who especially prided himself as a debater, that his
opponent and his mates were held up to much ridicule. Whereupon the
breach widened, and Siebold took many occasions to show a paltry spite
against Bill and even toward Gus because he was Bill's chum.
In the gym, Siebold also shone as a good boxer, fencer and wrestler.
This rarely brought him into contact with Gus who, during his short
exercise, avoided others. Tony, however, was willing to become a victim.
The young Italian liked to put on the gloves, as he was quick, strong
and good-natured; but the instructor had, for some reason known only to
himself, passed him by.
Late one afternoon Gus stopped pulling weights to watch Siebold box with
a big soph who was a mark for quick, scientific work and whose heavy
punches and swings often fell short of their aim. Tony also was an
interested spectator and came forward with the request that Siebold show
him some of the points he had mastered. Whereupon Siebold had the
Italian lad put on the gloves with Sadler and the big fellow promptly
hit Tony and knocked him off his feet.
The Italian's dark eyes flashed fire, but he smiled and came back. The
instructor refused to let the bout continue, saying that Tony must gain
more experience. Gus called Tony over.
"I don't want to butt in," he said, "but I didn't like that. You could
learn that game. Would you mind if----" he hesitated modestly.
"Could you show me? Everything you do so verra good."
Tony was so eager that Gus consented. They agreed to come to the gym at
a time when no one, not even the instructor, was there. Then, in
addition, Tony bought a set of gloves so that the two could practice in
the shop now and then. A month went by. Cold weather came; then the
Christmas holidays. Bill and Gus went home for the one big day, and came
back to study and to continue their shop work; but Tony was away for ten
days, during which he took a few lessons from one of the best teachers
of the fistic art that could be found.
"He said I am now there," gleefully announced Tony when the three got
together again; "and that I can learn one poco, for I did puncha him
times several and he no hit me sempra. I think you," his dark eyes
appraised Gus, "are quite--no, I not throw bouquets--are gooda as he."
"Oh, not so good as Ben Duffy? I know all about him. I went once with my
city uncle to see him fight. He's a crackerjack, sure."
"But he not poka me more as you do," argued Tony.
"Well, I've been studying your defense longer--it's mine too, you know.
That's the reason." The generous Gus smiled. "Anyway, let's go to the
gym to-morrow. I want to see how you mix it up now with Sadler."
Tony did "mix it up" much to Sadler's discomfort. Siebold stepped up:
"Say, Italy, where did you get it?" And Tony, proud, ever eager to give
credit to a friend, nodded toward Gus.
"To him I do owe it. He one granda master with the feest."
"So? Expert electrician, mechanic, sport spoiler and bruiser, eh? Some
combination." And Siebold turned away with something too much like a
sneer on his fine face. Gus was hurt, but smiled, as usual. Tony
resented the slur.
"For all which," he said, "the cervel--the brain, is required, eh?
Maybe, Soph, if you brain ancora had you could beata heem--but no so
now."
"No? I'll bet a sardine that you could put it all over him," Siebold
said, desiring to mollify an upper classman. Tony laughed.
"No; not coulda you ancora, nor any other one in this school."
Siebold turned away, as he added: "You won't have a chance to prove
that. I pick my company. But you will get another go at Sadler after I
give him some more pointers." It was evident that the leader among the
sophomores was something of a snob. A little later his prediction came
true regarding Sadler and Tony.
Gus was again a witness to the bout. It had become noised around and the
gym held a goodly crowd of students. At such times the instructor,
though interested and often a witness, dodged participation because of
the slugging tendency and its possible effect on the school if he
encouraged such a thing.
Tony went into the game with a smile. Sadler, though generally
good-natured, was serious and determined from the start. He got a number
of stinging cracks on his ribs and in the stomach, Tony hardly being
able to reach his head. Beaten again at points, landed on five times as
often as he landed, he began to resort to a waiting game, for there was
no doubt he could stand punishment. Stand it he did until Tony got
enough confidence for infighting, though he should never have attempted
to swap punches with such a big fellow.
Suddenly Sadler caught the smaller man starting a short arm upper cut
for the jaw and he took it open, delivering at the same instant a hook
that no man when giving a blow could hope to block. He caught Tony
coming in and that lent additional momentum to the blow which got Tony
on the side of the neck, over the artery, and it was as clean a
knock-out as could be given. They carried the Italian to a wrestling
mat, fanned and bathed his face, and when he came to and sat up, Siebold
was there with his ready tongue.
"He's too heavy for you. No fellow could hope to stand up to Sadler at
his own game. I told you so."
Gus saw Tony's real hurt and was incensed. "Oh, don't you believe that,"
he said to Tony. "Another time----"
"Huh, fellow! Maybe you think you could stand up to Sadler. I'd like to
see you, or anyone here, even the instructor." He glanced around. "Could
they, Mr. Gay?"
"Well, perhaps not. Sadler has the punch and you can't hurt him," said
the instructor, coming up. "Feel all right now, Sabaste?"
Nothing more was said about another bout, but the subject stirred the
crowd so that it could not die out entirely. Three or four days later
the instructor and Siebold entered the gym together, and stopped to
watch Gus punching the bag. Siebold had never seen anything quite so
snappy as that. Mr. Gay made some remarks.
"That fellow must have had some instructions under a strong teacher--
there's good material there! Say, look at the way he plays a tattoo
and swings, too, and gets away from it. Foot work, my boy--foot work!
You're good, Siebold, but we haven't anything like that in the school.
I had no idea of it."
"Shucks! All the same I'd like to see him swap cracks with Sadler," said
Siebold doggedly. Just at that instant Sadler came lumbering in with a
dozen other fellows at his heels.
"Better not start anything rough," cautioned Mr. Gay.
But Siebold paid no heed. He walked over to Gus and addressed him
roughly:
"Say, would you have the nerve to fight Sadler?"
"Fight? Fight? Why, man, I have no reason to. I haven't anything against
him." Gus was indignant. "And as to boxing bouts, I'm not in this game.
Too busy!"
"Shucks! One way to whitewash a little streak of yellow." This with a
sneer.
Suddenly the kindly smile on Gus's manly face faded out. He stepped
quickly in front of Siebold.
"You can't say that to me! I'll fight you here and now; bare knuckles if
you like."
Mr. Gay overheard the conversation and came back to the boys.
"None of that here," he said. "If you want to have a friendly bout with
the gloves, all right--even to a finish--but no bad blood."
Gus turned away. So did Siebold. Sadler, who was tired of being punched
at Siebold's request, would prefer to do a little looking on. With
satisfaction he saw Mr. Gay take his hat and leave the building. The
instructor may have seen a scrap on the way and wished to evade
responsibility. He was anxious to be popular with the boys.
Sadler offered a few suggestions. Immediately several boys surrounded
good-natured Gus and shoved him into the open center of the room. Then
they did the same to Siebold, but with more verbal persuasiveness and in
a moment the two were facing each other, and a pair of boxing-gloves was
handed to each.