The Argosy, August 1914 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

NOBODY LOVES A LOSER. of an eye, but Herb Mann’s twinkling vision registered a stinging right plant- ed behind Buck Potter’s ear—as scien- tific and effective a blow as Jack had ever placed. Goliath fell forward on his face with the dull, sickening effect of an ox hit by a pole-ax. Herb, caught short in his tracks and_ breathing heavily, experienced something of the sensations of a spectator at a moving- picture show. It was interesting, it amazed, but could it be true? “Now he'll git him!’ he murmured under his breath as Buck gathered him- self stupidly together and struggled to his feet. “ Why don’t Jack jump on him? Why don’t he crack him with a rock?” He renewed his advance toward the ~ scene of conflict. Instead of en- deavoring to pin Potter to the earth while there was yet time, or looking for a suitable stone with which to initiate an attack on his skull, or even seizing the opportunity to depart hastily from the battle- ground, Jack Garrett remained where he was, await- ing with a sort of patient nonchalance his antagonist’s recovery. It was somewhat slow and uncertain. Buck Potter’s intellectuality never scored a very high batting average, and just now stark astonishment clogged its operations. The sight of Jack, cool and smiling, recalled him. Bellowing with rage, he essayed another rush. This time Jack contented himself with merely dodging. When Buck had caught himself and turned again, he said with an irritating laugh: “ That’s' not the right way. We're not playing tag, you know. If you want to fight, keep cool and sail in.” Herb Mann had drawn close enough to catch the taunting remark. His fear of serious injury to his shipmate had undergone a change for the better. Being near enough to guarantee fair play, he contented himself with the role of innocent bystander. A germ of doubt had taken root in \to you, 45 Buck Potter's bosom. Having expect- ed by now to be thoroughly enjoying himself marring the features of this uncharactered recruit to the forces of the fisherman he had sworn to drive from Barratry, as he had marred the features of his predecessor, Elmer Trask, it was discomfiting to find his desires thwarted. He changed his tactics. “ You let me come up to you an’ [ll give you the wust hidin’ you ever got,” he promised. “Stay where you are and I'll come ” was Jack’s remarkable retort. To Herb Mann’s dismay, he advanced within the enemy’s radius. “Look out, Jack!” the number one man shouted. It was breath needlessly expended. Buck Potter’s small eyes twinkled with savage delight as he lunged at Jack. Had the blow landed it would have put a period to the afternoon's perform- ance. It failed of taking effect by Jack’s lithe bending at the waist, and before Buck could recover he had accepted a double-hander, both blows marking his face. Jack had decided that the arch- enemy of the Hooper gang needed a lesson he would remember. That would best be accomplished by giving him a few souvenirs to show his fel- lows. He proceeded to do so with earnestness and skill. Inside of two minutes Buck Potter, the bully and putative champion of Barratry Island, was in a position to boast of a blackened eye, a bleeding nose, cut lips, and sundry minor abra- sions which showed fiery-red against his coat of tan. All this was the fruit of processes too simple to be worth description. Jack Garrett did the work with the grace and ease with come of long prac- tise. It was a performance con amore, as the Italians have it. He closed the selection with a drive to the solar plexus which doubled Buck Potter up and sat him, gasping, on the beach. CORNICLOOOKS (C@)