Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 212: what you’re looking at

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

210 utter the words that caused Marty to beam with joy. ‘‘I—I—Oh, yes, Mistah McGuire; I'll sholy be hehe with my things. But won’t you please go, now!”’ Marty cut a caper of exultation and threw her a kiss from his stubby fingers before he made off with a grin spreading over two- thirds of his countenance. Mr. Darrow, mildly interested in his contortions, watch- ed him to the stairs and then joined Carola. VI img) = MR. BURGESS marched impor- Fics tantly into the lobby of the hotel on the final morning and, with great ostentation, sent his card up to Mr. Crabbe. In a few moments, accompanied by several sparring partners and members of his establishment, Abe Bernstein appear- ed and also awaited the arrival of the other principals. Mr. Crabbe, followed by Marty McGuire, the latter looking a peculiar mixture of sullenness and secret triumph, arrived a few moments later. Then, with great ostenta- tion, Mr. Burgess drew from a wallet a large bundle of notes and passed them to Mr. Crabbe to be counted. That gentleman ran the ends through his fingers and nodded, passing them to Abe who did likewise. They were then returned to Burgess who handed them, with a receipt, to Mr. Dar- row. The latter signed the paper and then slipped the money into an envelope which he sealed with his tongue, afterward placing it in an inside pocket and buttoning his coat over it. Then every one shook hands and the principals to the combat went their ways, each of the fighters and Mr. Burgess ma- neuvering, as he passed, so that he might exchange a sign of understanding and af- fection with Carola. In afew more minutes the lobby was deserted except for the clerk, Carola, and the bell-boys. The sun was mounting high over Brim- stone Bend, and trolley-cars and automo- biles, horses and vehicles of all sorts were busily dumping their freight in the vicinity of the race-track. The seats were filling rapidly with humanity of all the kinds and conditions that are interested in sport. Before an impatient and noisy mob, sweating preliminary boxers went through © their appointed performances, whetting the Adventure appetites of the spectators for the real sen- sation. Not even an occasional flow of blood could hold the attention of the fans, and calls were echoing from the stands: “Take ’em off!” “Get the hook!” “Bring on the big ones!” At last the final blow of the semi-final bout was struck and the referee held up the hand of the victor, to whom nobody paid any attention. Men wiped up the board floor of the ring and examined the padding on posts and ropes. Everything was cleared away, and, amidst a storm of applause, Mr. Burgess climbed into the ring. He conversed easily with another man, recognized as an author- ity on boxing, who had been selected as referee, and seemed absolutely unconscious of the turmoil that filled the seats. The referee nodded and smiled with equal im- perturbability. Boxes containing new gloves were tossed into the ring, and then a large pair of scales was rolled down an aisle and hoisted to the platform. Excitement mounted higher. Abraham Bernstein, otherwise “Young Kelly, Welterweight Champion of the World” sauntered down the aisle, shaking hands right and left with his admirers. Be- hind him trooped his seconds and assistants carrying towels and sponges. He was stripped to trunks and boxing- shoes and bareheaded, though his shoulders were covered by a flannel bath-gown which was allowed to flap negligently open. His hands were swathed in bandages of adhesive tape. He climbed to the platform and walked mincingly over the boards, testing them with springy pushes of his toes. His seconds set a chair in a corner for him and arranged bucket, towels and sponge where they would be handy. A shallow box of rosin was placed in front of the chair. Then Marty McGuire, amid an uproar of applause, appeared and pushed his way through the people, who rose from their seats and reached out to him, endeavoring to touch him or slap him on the shoulder while cries of “‘Attaboy, Marty!” ‘Oh, you Kid!” “How long you goin’ to let ’im stay, boy?” and other expressions of confidence and ad- miration told plainly where the sympathy and money of the majority lay. Marty’s face was lowered and he seemed to be anxious to avoid the reception as much as possible, shaking off the clutching COMmMichoooks (©