Adventure, June 1911 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

The Fight of Patsy McGlynn good woman to smile in spite of herself, and instantly the massive hand above her head opened and she was submerged under a shower of greenbacks and coins. “Patsy! Wh-where in the name of— where did all this money come from?” “From that smile of yours, of course!” teased the roaring Patsy. “Let it be a lesson to you!” And while the happy mother went into retirement against the dancing heart of her big boy, Sister Annie collected the scattered fortune with a broom. ELE QO} THE Thursday morning papers an- WON) nounced under scare-heads that, owing to an injury received while training, the famous pugilist, Mike Doolan, would be unable to meet the Australian heavyweight, Jack Farnum, on Friday night. Fortunately, however, the Cali- frisco Club management had been able to procure a substitute for the injured fighter— an Unknown whom Farnum had agreed to meet under conditions absolutely identical with those arranged for his fight with the Coast favorite. These conditions called for a purse of twenty thousand dollars, winner take all, and a division of the gate-receipts on a basis of seventy-five and twenty-five per cent. to the winner and loser respectively. All bets on the interrupted event had been declared off and the first effect of the announcement had been to make the Australian a big fa- vorite over the Unknown, the “‘wise ones” figuring that, barring Doolan, no heavy- weight then on the Coast had a chance against the foreigner. Mr. Fulmer owned one of the finest pri- vate gymnasiums in the city and it was there that Patsy McGlynn spent all of Thursday, perfecting himself in a few tricks of “foot-work” and trying to demonstrate to the personal friends of his patron that the Club had been fully and entirely justified in presenting him as a substitute for the injured fighter. Of course it was impos- sible to conceal the identity of the Unknown from the newspaper men, but when the young fellow frankly explained to. them his reasons for wishing to keep his name out of the papers they patted him on the back, promised him all possible protection and wished him all kinds of success. Next day the young athlete lounged about 275 home until late in the afternoon, keeping his mother and sister in merry humor, and explaining, with minute attention to every horrible detail, the ghastly fate he had planned for them if he ever again caught them giving way to sad and gloomy forebodings. ‘The only way to make the bugbear of bad luck hike to the woods is to grin in his face,” he said. ‘Laugh at him—that’s the dope! Now, I want you two to keep grinning till I get back home. I'll bea little late, maybe, but you keep grinning. Start in right now —one—two—three—that’s it! Now keep it up!”’ And he was gone. Sy “McGLYNN,” said Fulmer, “I he 4) want a serious word. with you. ~“ I’ve got a big bunch of money here, mostly my friends’, to be wagered at the ringside. I don’t want to lose it.” “Bet it on me, then, Mr. Fulmer, and get it all placed before the first round is over.” ‘But why are you so certain of success, Patsy? This man Farnum isa mighty tough proposition. I want to know the grounds for your confidence. Of course, I think you have a fair chance; but why are you so absolutely certain about it?” “‘Mr. Fulmer,” returned the young boxer, in a tone of unusual seriousness, “I’m going to win this fight because I think I’m going to! You can do anything, if you think you can!”’ “‘There’s lots of glory in it, if you win.” “‘Y’m not looking for that brand of glory, Mr. Fulmer. I’m after that big purse your Club has hung up, and the long end of the gate-receipts. I’m fighting to-night for— for mother and Annie. It’ll be my first and last prize-fight. And I’m going to win! So get your money up early—the odds won’t be so good after the first round.” Well, go to it,my boy. I’ll takea chance on you.” ° B slong the crowded aisle, mounted the stage steps and squeezed his bulky form between the ropes of the arena. Seating himself in his corner, he sent his gaze across to where the substitute and attendants were busying themselves with the glove-lacings. A sneer curled his lip. “They tell me that’s the kid they had sparring with Doolan,” he snarled in his second’s ear. “They say he’s fast. Fast! His speed’ll do ’im a —— of a lot 0’ good! COMIC MOOS. Conn