when god laughs and other stories(当上帝发笑时)-第40节
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desired。 He feinted with his left； drew the answering duck and swinging
upward hook； then made the half…step backward； delivered the upper cut
full to the face and crumpled Sandel over to the mat。 After that he never
let him rest； receiving punishment himself； but inflicting far more；
smashing Sandel to the ropes； hooking and driving all manner of blows
into him； tearing away from his clinches or punching him out of attempted
clinches； and ever when Sandel would have fallen； catching him with one
uplifting hand and with the other immediately smashing him into the ropes
where he could not fall。
The house by this time had gone mad； and it was his house； nearly
every voice yelling： 〃Go it； Tom！〃 〃Get 'im！ Get 'im！〃 〃You've got
'im； Tom！ You've got 'im！〃 It was to be a whirlwind finish； and that was
what a ringside audience paid to see。
And Tom King； who for half an hour had conserved his strength； now
expended it prodigally in the one great effort he knew he had in him。 It
was his one chancenow or not at all。 His strength was waning fast； and
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his hope was that before the last of it ebbed out of him he would have
beaten his opponent down for the count。 And as he continued to strike
and force； coolly estimating the weight of his blows and the quality of the
damage wrought； he realized how hard a man Sandel was to knock out。
Stamina and endurance were his to an extreme degree； and they were the
virgin stamina and endurance of Youth。 Sandel was certainly a coming
man。 He had it in him。 Only out of such rugged fibre were successful
fighters fashioned。
Sandel was reeling and staggering； but Tom King's legs were cramping
and his knuckles going back on him。 Yet he steeled himself to strike the
fierce blows； every one of which brought anguish to his tortured hands。
Though now he was receiving practically no punishment； he was
weakening as rapidly as the other。 His blows went home； but there was
no longer the weight behind them； and each blow was the result of a
severe effort of will。 His legs were like lead； and they dragged visibly
under him； while Sandel's backers； cheered by this symptom； began
calling encouragement to their man。
King was spurred to a burst of effort。 He delivered two blows in
successiona left； a trifle too high； to the solar plexus； and a right cross to
the jaw。 They were not heavy blows； yet so weak and dazed was Sandel
that he went down and lay quivering。 The referee stood over him；
shouting the count of the fatal seconds in his ear。 If before the tenth
second was called； he did not rise； the fight was lost。 The house stood in
hushed silence。 King rested on trembling legs。 A mortal dizziness was
upon him； and before his eyes the sea of faces sagged and swayed； while
to his ears； as from a remote distance； came the count of the referee。 Yet
he looked upon the fight as his。 It was impossible that a man so punished
could rise。
Only Youth could rise； and Sandel rose。 At the fourth second he
rolled over on his face and groped blindly for the ropes。 By the seventh
second he had dragged himself to his knee； where he rested； his head
rolling groggily on his shoulders。 As the referee cried 〃Nine！〃 Sandel
stood upright； in proper stalling position； his left arm wrapped about his
face； his right wrapped about his stomach。 Thus were his vital points
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WHEN GOD LAUGHS； AND OTHER STORIES
guarded； while he lurched forward toward King in the hope of effecting a
clinch and gaining more time。
At the instant Sandel arose； King was at him； but the two blows he
delivered were muffled on the stalled arms。 The next moment Sandel
was in the clinch and holding on desperately while the referee strove to
drag the two men apart。 King helped to force himself free。 He knew
the rapidity with which Youth recovered； and he knew that Sandel was his
if he could prevent that recovery。 One stiff punch would do it。 Sandel
was his； indubitably his。 He had out…generalled him； out…fought him；
out…pointed him。 Sandel reeled out of the clinch； balanced on the hair
line between defeat or survival。 One good blow would topple him over
and down and out。 And Tom King； in a flash of bitterness； remembered the
piece of steak and wished that he had it then behind that necessary punch
he must deliver。 He nerved himself for the blow； but it was not heavy
enough nor swift enough。 Sandel swayed； but did not fall； staggering back
to the ropes and holding on。 King staggered after him； and； with a pang
like that of dissolution； delivered another blow。 But his body had
deserted him。 All that was left of him was a fighting intelligence that
was dimmed and clouded from exhaustion。 The blow that was aimed for
the jaw struck no higher than the shoulder。 He had willed the blow
higher； but the tired muscles had not been able to obey。 And； from the
impact of the blow； Tom King himself reeled back and nearly fell。 Once
again he strove。 This time his punch missed altogether； and； from
absolute weakness； he fell against Sandel and clinched； holding on to him
to save himself from sinking to the floor。
King did not attempt to free himself。 He had shot his bolt。 He was
gone。 And Youth had been served。 Even in the clinch he could feel
Sandel growing stronger against him。 When the referee thrust them apart；
there； before his eyes； he saw Youth recuperate。 From instant to instant
Sandel grew stronger。 His punches； weak and futile at first； became stiff
and accurate。 Tom King's bleared eyes saw the gloved fist driving at his
jaw； and he willed to guard it by interposing his arm。 He saw the danger；
willed the act； but the arm was too heavy。 It seemed burdened with a
hundredweight of lead。 It would not lift itself； and he strove to lift it with
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his soul。 Then the gloved fist landed home。 He experienced a sharp
snap that was like an electric spark； and； simultaneously； the veil of
blackness enveloped him。
When he opened his eyes again he was in his corner； and he heard the
yelling of the audience like the roar of the surf at Bondi Beach。 A wet
sponge was being pressed against the base of his brain； and Sid Sullivan
was blowing cold water in a refreshing spray over his face and chest。 His
gloves had already been removed； and Sandel； bending over him； was
shaking his hand。 He bore no ill…will toward the man who had put him
out and he returned the grip with a heartiness that made his battered
knuckles protest。 Then Sandel stepped to the centre of the ring and the
audience hushed its pandemonium to hear him accept young Pronto's
challenge and offer to increase the side bet to one hundred pounds。 King
looked on apathetically while his seconds mopped the streaming water
from him； dried his face； and prepared him to leave the ring。 He felt
hungry。 It was not the ordinary； gnawing kind； but a great faintness； a
palpitation at the pit of the stomach that communicated itself to all his
body。 He remembered back into the fight to the moment when he had
Sandel swaying and tottering on the hair…line balance of defeat。 Ah； that
piece of steak
