The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

660 “That hain’t a-tellin’ me when this here hog stickin’ is a-goin’ to come off,” inter- posed Tobias dolefully. ‘All right, then, let’s get it over with,” erowled Donovan. “It’s to-morrow.” “To-morrow?” cried Tobias in high fal- setto tones. ‘‘To-morrow! That’s all! If you see me to-morrow you'll have to be a-takin’ a trip down to Arkansaw.” With that he made a wild dash for the door, but the alert Kid locked it just in time and deposited the key in his pocket. “Now, then,” cried Donovan, “‘you might kill us both and get out of here, but you'll hang for it. What’s more, you ain’t got a chance to get a block away from here at any price. We’ve got a squad of police outside. Now sit down and listen to reason.”’ Then followed hours of persuasion from every possible angle. Glowing descriptions of the girl at home, of the cozy house he could build her with the money he would win by submitting to a few minutes of slight discomfort. They guarded him through a sleepless night and every second of the next day up to the hour set for the fight. That the fight would be branded a fake - and that the law would order an investiga- tion, Donovan had no doubt now. But it was too late to step out. The thing had to be carried through. So Donovan bought a ticket to South America and waited with quaking heart for the fatal hour. As tight as humanity could be packed the great crowd sat around the ringside in breathless suspense. It was one of the big- gest throngs that ever had gathered to wit- ness a prize fight. At last they were to get a glimpse of the famous Man of Mystery, the Arkansas Mountain Lion, the Peerless Wonder of Wonders, whose face had been hidden from them all this time! — But as the time passed without his ap- pearance the crowd voiced its impatience in thunderous roars that grew louder each succeeding minute. Meanwhile Donovan, with the tears roll- ing down his cheeks, was pleading with his hero in the dressing-room to muster up sulf- ficient courage to walk to the ring. “For Gawd’s sake buck up!” he en- treated. ‘“‘We can’t carry you out on a stretcher. Give ’em a chance to see you on your feet at least.” The Lion’s only answer was a dazed stare as he sat there, trembling from head to foot like a man with the ague. THE ARGOSY. Finally the bedlam outside became so intense that Donovan feared to delay an- other second. At his orders two attend- ants seized the Lion by either arm and dragged him forth. Thus with two men half dragging, half carrying him along, the crowd got its first look at the mighty Mountain Lion. That mysterious visage, unveiled at last, bore the expression of a sick man walking in a trance. As one man the crowd gasped in dismay. Then came a tornado of jeers, hoots and catcalls. ‘““No wonder he hid his face,” shrieked a would-be wit. “I would, too, with a map like that.” “Look out for the Lion, he’ll run out!” cried another. “Get a stretcher!” “Call the police! pion!” But the object of their taunts heard them not. Vaguely he was aware of some sort of rumbling, but he did not bother to as- certain the nature of it. When they got him to his corner he sank down on his chair a dead weight. Every- thing before him was a blank haze. Suddenly a shout that could be heard for blocks broke forth as the champion, fit, confident and smiling, stepped into the ring. But the dazed Lion neither saw nor heard. The champion, glowing in the midst of all this mighty and unbounded adoration, was so busily occupied in greeting and survey- ing the crowd of- worshippers that he for- got to cast more than a fleeting glance at his victim until the referee called the two men to the centre of the ring for instruc- tions. Somehow the Lion staggered his half of the distance, and for the first time stood face to face with the champion. — And then, strangely, as the Lion lifted his head in one last effort at a semblance of fortitude, those at the ringside noticed a sudden change come over the champion’s face. His smile vanished, his eyes widened with a startled, uncertain look. The Lion’s vision, however, was too blurred to observe this. He continued to gaze blankly as the referee talked until gradually, out of the haze, a white line loomed up on the cham- pion’s right cheek; the jagged white scar left by an old wound. No sooner had the Lion found this than the haze began to lift. He studied the He’ll kill the cham- COMMICLO® C cS (C@)