Adventure, June 1911 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

The Fight of Patsy, McGlynn I’ve heard so. But you mustn’tcry any more — to-night, mother. See what I’ve brought you—a brand new five-dollar gold-piece!”’ The widow took the coin, slipped it in her bosom and disappeared from mortal sight ‘into the yawning chasm formed by her big ‘boy’s outstretched arms and expansive chest. Held thus for a full minute in total eclipse, the world must ever remain in ignorance as to how she would have inter- ~ preted the series of astonishing facial con- tortions with which the young giant now favored his staring sister. Nor was that rattled young woman herself able to guess _ what was intended to be conveyed to her by the volley of cumbrous winks, smirks and grins which came her way. There was something so ridiculous in the pantomime, with its impromptu setting, that she laughed outright—and was sorry in a second, as a fierce frown of disapproval darkened her brother’s face. In apparent disgust at her dullness, he jerked his head toward the door by which he had just entered and—released his prisoner. “Patsy, you're a regular old grizzly bear! - gasped the smiling old mother, now re- stored to the best of humor. “You nearly smothered me, so you did; you’re that strong! Where’s Annie?” “Stepped across to the Morrissy’s—back in a minute. And while you’re fixing us a bite to eat, mother, ll drop down to the corner and see if. there is any news from the factory.” A few minutes before filled with appre- hension of the calamity she felt must speed- ily come upon the little family, the widow now moved ‘with sprightly step about the narrow kitchen, humming an air to the ac- {9 companying rattle of pots and pans—an air that came faith-full and hope-laden from the heart and dissipated every fear. Such are mothers of big boys. To be sure the boiler-factory had been closed for months, keeping Patsy out of work. The coal-man was importunate. The grocer refused further supplies. ‘The rent-collector had threatened to put them out. For the past few weeks Patsy had earned varying sums at some training- quarters across the Bay, where he had assisted in preparing certain athletes for certain coming contests—she didn’t know what. She only hoped he was not mixing up with prize-fights and those terrible prize- fighters.’ Anything but that! 271 Her son’s small and irregular earnings had been far from adequate. Troubles seemed to be coming from every direction, threaten- ing to culminate all at once. During the long day, when her son was away, she simply could not avoid the dreadful picture of hurrying disaster. Human reason refused to justify any hope of escape. There was ho avoiding the inevitable. How was it that, in face of the coming calamity, Patsy mans aged to remain cheerful? She couldn’t understand it; yet she was forced to admit that it was no more strange than the regular disappearance of her own fearful apprehen- sions when night brought him rollicking: home and stood him there in the center, of the little sitting-room, his great arms spread out, like the wings of some gigantic bat, in- viting her to the enjoyment of her regular evening ‘‘smother.” But even the training-club employment was now at anend. Patsy had said so him- self when he gave her that five-dollar piece, bidding her make the most of it. Matters were thus worse than ever. Still she hummed that air. Fear had flown. Hope was in her heart. Why? Xa “NOW, you look here, Sis,” com- M YQ) manded Patsy McGlynn, towering == over his sister Annie in the half- light of the areaway before their little flat, “Vou look here!” “T’m looking,” said the girl, squaring herself in mock belligerency. “I want advice,’’ he announced curtly. “Well, sir, you’ve come to the right shop. What seems to be the nature of your trouble?” “No josh—this is serious. I want ad- vice, but it has to be advice with a string to it.” “Advice with a strin—what do you mean?” “T mean I want you to give me the advice I tell you to give me. Are you game?” “Game? You know I’m game. State your case.” “Tt’s like this. You know that fellow Mike Doolan I’ve been training for the heavyweight fight Friday night? Well, he’s supposed to be the hardest proposition the Coast has ever turned out. They had to go to Australia to get a man to lick him—Jack | Farnum. Even at that, the betting is ten to seven, with Doolan the favorite, which Go DOOKS ANC (©