The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

NERVE. the touch that raised interest in the fight to fever heat. Reports spread like wild fire that while the Lion was working his head off, the champion in his over confidence was resting on his laurels, expecting his reputation to win the fight. And up bounded the advance sale to staggering fig- ures. Thus everything went smoothly until the day before the fighf. Donovan sat in his room smoking an expensive cigar and think- ing of the wealth that would be his within the next thirty-six hours when suddenly the door burst open and the Kid, hatless, coatless, his face ashen and his frame trembling, rushed in. “The balloon’s busted!” he groaned be- tween gasps for breath. “The fight’s off! We're out of it!” He paused, awed by the terrible expres- sion that came over the manager’s face. “Vou don’t mean,” cried Donovan, “that —that—he—” “Youre on,” supplied the Kid. knows!” “Great heavens! shrieked the manager. ‘“‘He—he lamped it out of a newspaper,” answered the Kid. “A newspaper!” Donovan’s fists clenched as he poised himself to spring at the Kid in his mad despair. ‘““That’s your fault, you bungler,” he hissed. “You poor, wall- eyed-—” “Cut it,” pleaded the Kid. “Cut it. Give me a chance. I tell you it ain’t my fault. You couldn’t have helped it either. It’s that girl of his in Arkansaw. He’s been writing to her. To-day she sent him a pair of red woolen socks by mail. They were done up in a two-weeks’ old newspaper. The outside wrapper was brown paper, How was I to tell? She ain’t next or she wouldn’t have used the newspaper for that. _ He spotted his picture and began to read. That’s all. He’s making his will now.”’ Without another word Donovan led the way to the Mountain Lion’s room. ‘There they found the man whose heroic figure was known in every household, pitifully huddled on a chair by the window, a pale green cast on his face, his wide open eyes staring blankly at a crumpled sheet of newspaper clutched before him in trembling hands. He did not notice the entrance of the two men, though he sat facing them. “What’s the trouble?” asked Donovan helplessly, “He Who told him?” 659 The tragic figure of despair made no answer. “Wake up here and don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve,” shouted Donovan as he shook him wildly by both shoulders. The Mountain Lion in name only looked up with a vacant stare as if Donovan were some ghost with whom he was making his first acquaintance. At last he found the semblance of a voice. ~ ‘The champion of the world!” he echoed as if from the grave. “Well, what of it?’”? shouted Donovan with another shake. ‘““You’ve sicked me on to the champion of the world! Me fight One Round Higgin!” groaned the late Man of Mystery, now the Man of Mysery. “Sure you’re going to fight him,” replied Donovan. “And you'll lick him, too,” he added with a queer grimace that was meant for a smile of reassurance. An involuntary sob shook the tortured Lion’s vast frame. “Me lick One Round Higgin?” he gasped. “The Lord have mercy, now I know you’re bughouse.”’ “You might at that,” half heartedly from the Kid. The Lion cast him a pained look of in- . finite pity without moving his white lips. ‘Well, supposing he does lick you, ain’t you going to get ten thousand dollars for it?”? Donovan reminded him. ‘What good is ten thousand dollars to a dead man?” inquired Tobias in lifeless tones. “Don’t be a fool,”’- Donovan argued. “Vou won’t get killed. Nobody ever gets killed in a prize fight. You might get knocked out, but that’s nothing. The best fighters can’t count the number of times they’ve been put to sleep.” “Talk on,” faltered Tobias, “I’m the one that’s got to do this here sleepin’.”” Then, with a sudden faint ray of hope, “When is this here thing a-goin’ to be?” Donovan decided on a running jump. “Now, listen here,” he pleaded, “it ain’t nearly as hopeless as you think. You ain’t never seen Higgin fight; you ain’t never even so much as seen his picture have you?” Tobias shook his head. ‘Well, then, how do you know you ain’t a better man than he is? Youw’re bigger and, Great Jerusalem, you wouldn’t want to be any stronger than you are. Why, man, you’re—”’ COPMICLOOOKS - (©)