Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

THE WEST POINT ROMEOS. ‘Get the idea? We'll put on a bout. Nobody will think it unusual. And the winner takes Margy. What do you say?” “Done!” snapped Bill grimly. VIL. SATURDAY afternoon. The great main room of the gym- nasium was comfortably filled. In the center of the floor was a high platform, which contained the boxing ring. Along one of the longer sides of the room, tiers of seats had been erected. This stand was now a solid mass of gray: the cadets, talking and laughing, awaiting the boxing to begin. Jim Duffy, coach of the Academy boxing squad, was announcer and referee. Clad in white ducks and white shirt, he climbed through the ropes, and stood in the center of the ring. He announced the first bout. between a couple of plebes. Good-naturedly, and tolerantly, the cadets watched the bouts. Most of them were displays of boxing skill, with very little actual fighting. A few had more blood and less skill. But every one was waiting for the event of the afternoon, the bout be- tween “ Damon and Pythias.” Bill and Jack always put on a good fight, despite the fact that they were roommates. Finally they were announced. “Tn this corner we have Fenton, first-class. Handsomest man in the Corps of Cadets,” said Coach Duffy through his nose. The spectators howled with glee. “And in this corner we have his roommate, ‘ Red Jack’ Delany. “Time, gentlemen.” On the bell, Bill and Jack bounded from their corners, and shook hands. The fight for Margy was on. Carefully they measured each other. This was to be a real fight. Winner take Margy. It was 269 In the first round Bill was the ag- gressor. He kept treading on Jack’s toes. Something seemed to be _ holding Jack back. Time and again he would start out to light into Bill, but would wind up by covering himself, or going into a clinch. The second round was better. Bill had succeeded in landing a fast one square on Jack’s sensitive, freckled nose. That made Jack mad, so they mixed it up considerably. The cadet observers were delighted. The more punches that were swapped, the better they liked the fight. They split pretty evenly for favorites. As many cheers and shouts of encourage- ment were heard for Bill as for Jack. By the middle of the second round every one in that great room knew that he was watching a real fight—a fight for blood—a fight to the bitter end. Excitement kept increasing. Cadets were more serious in their cheering, and more intense in their encourage- ment. In the ring, Coach Jim Duffy was talking to himself. He, above all men, knew that here was a fight. And his old warrior blood made him as much a part of it as the contestants. Now and then he would call out un- der his breath :“ Go it, yez devils. The best man of yez wins.”’ The second round was nearing its end. Bill decided that then was the best time to get Jack. He began a furious assault. Jack’s guard availed him little before that terrific rain of blows. His back was tight against the ropes. Every time he tried to get away, he was driven back by Bill’s flying, heavy fists. | Bill delivered a smashing stomach blow with his left hand, and then drove upward with his right. The watching crowd held its breath in sympathy for Jack. Jack seemed to waver on his feet. He tried to pull himself together, to EOPICLOO S (E@)