12 Sports Aces, January 1943 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

8 3 12 SPORTS ACES Toland has got you seared stiff. Can’t blame you much, either, The guy has put the jinx on better guys than you.” Sweeney threw back his head, laughed. . It was a loose, clean laugh and it attract- ed the attention of a stim, honey-haired gal surrounded by three male escorts. They were all in formal attire. What they were doing at a hockey rink in that attire so early in the morning—or how they even happened to be around was something of a mystery, Sweeney was not interested. He snapped his fingers dis- missingly at the red-faced man. “You’re telling Sweeney,” he chuckled. “Pm the guy who walks under ladders “and likes black cats, and number thir- teen is a nice number in my book, Bring on Angel Toland, jinx and all,” “Maybe you haven’t heard the seore,” the red-faced man said pointedly. “You’ll be the fourth victim this season to team up at forward with Angel, Have you heard what happened to the other three guys? Inquire around, brother. But you won’t find any of ’em in the big leagues any more,” Sweeney knew about Angel Toland, the guy the fans called the Jinxman. He played a wing job for the Raiders and he played it with all the color and killer- diller stuff that a guy could get out of a stick, Angel always captured the fans’ bravos, and, more important, the heavy dough for his act, But there were things Sweeney knew about Angel Toland that the papers would never print because the proof would al- ways be lacking. Sweeney had seen the proof, seen it in the wrecked bodies and battered spirits of men who had been Angel's former teammates, It was bloody boots, not a golden opportunity that Wild Bill Sweeney, fresh out of the minors, was stepping into, Sweeney said: “Let’s get together, guys. Me and An- gel are on the same outfit. The only jinx involved is the one we’ve gotta slap on the other teams, Rock Gurnsey is looking for a winning combination. I got the idea that Pm a good half of it. I’m funny that way.” ; ~ “Maybe you won’t have to worry about a winning combination after all,” another reporter chimed in. “The only thing that can save Rock Gurnsey now is a bag of gold. The old boy is finished. He admitted last night that he can’t get up the dough to see the club through the rest of the season. He’s either got to get up the dough or sell, It’s in the papers already.” Sweeney’s lips tightened. He had a pa- per in his pocket. He’d seen the news. He owed the old boy who was owner-man- ager of the Raiders a debt from way back. It went deep, Sweeney’s loyalty to Rock Gurnsey. But even deeper were Sweeney’s obligations to another person. Sweeney did not talk about these. He looked up and the red-faced man was say- ing: “If your baggage is outside in a cab, you’d better have the driver take it to the station. It might be easier for you to pick it up there just in case there’s a new owner of the Raiders. In the mean- time, you can spill what’s kept you from reporting a week ago. Maybe I should say Angel Toland and let it go at that. You'll get your name in the paper, any- Way.” WEENEY caught the drift and he did not like it a bit. He was small time stuff to this reporter and was being shoved around. Sweeney’s laugh had a pull in it. . : “You’ve got a big lip, mister,” he said evenly. “You better keep it buttoned or you’re Hable to eatch something hard in your face.” “I’m Lew Harrigan of the World Press,” the red-faced man boasted. “No tin-eared hockey player talks that way to .me. You might discover that to yeur re- gret, Sweeney.” “I'll worry about that—if I think of it,” Sweeney said. The girl in the evening gown wore an ermine wrap. She looked directly at Sweeney as he passed her and the three male escorts. Her dark eyes twinkled and she smiled a httle. “That was very nice, Mister—er— Sweeney,” she said, “Refreshing as the wind.” Sweeney turned. “I'm glad you liked it,” Gomichbook (E@