the night-born-第32节

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shook　it　with　impulsive　heartiness。　Danny's　smile…wreathed　face

was　close　to　his。　The　audience　yelled　its　appreciation　of

Danny's　display　of　sporting　spirit。　He　was　greeting　his

opponent　with　the　fondness　of　a　brother。　Danny's　lips　moved；

and　the　audience；　interpreting　the　unheard　words　to　be　those　of

a　kindly…natured　sport；　yelled　again。　Only　Rivera　heard　the　low

words。



〃You　little　Mexican　rat；〃　hissed　from　between　Danny's　gaily

smiling　lips；　〃I'll　fetch　the　yellow　outa　you。〃



Rivera　made　no　move。　He　did　not　rise。　He　merely　hated　with　his

eyes。



〃Get　up；　you　dog！〃　some　man　yelled　through　the　ropes　from

behind。



The　crowd　began　to　hiss　and　boo　him　for　his　unsportsmanlike

conduct；　but　he　sat　unmoved。　Another　great　outburst　of　applause

was　Danny's　as　he　walked　back　across　the　ring。



When　Danny　stripped；　there　was　ohs！　and　ahs！　of　delight。　His

body　was　perfect；　alive　with　easy　suppleness　and　health　and

strength。　The　skin　was　white　as　a　woman's；　and　as　smooth。　All

grace；　and　resilience；　and　power　resided　therein。　He　had　proved

it　in　scores　of　battles。　His　photographs　were　in　all　the

physical　culture　magazines。



A　groan　went　up　as　Spider　Hagerty　peeled　Rivera's　sweater　over

his　head。　His　body　seemed　leaner；　because　of　the　swarthiness　of

the　skin。　He　had　muscles；　but　they　made　no　display　like　his

opponent's。　What　the　audience　neglected　to　see　was　the　deep

chest。　Nor　could　it　guess　the　toughness　of　the　fiber　of　the

flesh；　the　instantaneousness　of　the　cell　explosions　of　the

muscles；　the　fineness　of　the　nerves　that　wired　every　part　of

him　into　a　spendid　fighting　mechanism。　All　the　audience　saw　was

a　brown…skinned　boy　of　eighteen　with　what　seemed　the　body　of　a

boy。　With　Danny　it　was　different。　Danny　was　a　man　of

twenty…four；　and　his　body　was　a　man's　body。　The　contrast　was

still　more　striking　as　they　stood　together　in　the　center　of　the

ring　receiving　the　referee's　last　instructions。



Rivera　noticed　Roberts　sitting　directly　behind　the　newspaper

men。　He　was　drunker　than　usual；　and　his　speech　was

correspondingly　slower。



〃Take　it　easy；　Rivera；〃　Roberts　drawled。



〃He　can't　kill　you；　remember　that。　He'll　rush　you　at　the

go…off；　but　don't　get　rattled。　You　just　and　stall；　and　clinch。

He　can't　hurt　cover　up；　much。　Just　make　believe　to　yourself

that　he's　choppin'　out　on　you　at　the　trainin'　quarters。〃



Rivera　made　no　sign　that　he　had　heard。



〃Sullen　little　devil；〃　Roberts　muttered　to　the　man　next　to　him。

〃He　always　was　that　way。〃



But　Rivera　forgot　to　look　his　usual　hatred。　A　vision　of

countless　rifles　blinded　his　eyes。　Every　face　in　the　aidience；

far　as　he　could　see；　to　the　high　dollar…seats；　was　transformed

into　a　rifle。　And　he　saw　the　long　Mexican　border　arid　and

sun…washed　and　aching；　and　along　it　he　saw　the　ragged　bands

that　delayed　only　for　the　guns。



Back　in　his　corner　he　waited；　standing　up。　His　seconds　had

crawled　out　through　the　ropes；　taking　the　canvas　stool　with

them。　Diagonally　across　the　squared　ring；　Danny　faced　him。　The

gong　struck；　and　the　battle　was　on。　The　audience　howled　its

delight。　Never　had　it　seen　a　battle　open　more　convincingly。　The

papers　were　right。　It　was　a　grudge　fight。　Three…quarters　of　the

distance　Danny　covered　in　the　rush　to　get　together；　his

intention　to　eat　up　the　Mexican　lad　plainly　advertised。　He

assailed　with　not　one　blow；　nor　two；　nor　a　dozen。　He　was　a

gyroscope　of　blows；　a　whirlwind　of　destruction。　Rivera　was

nowhere。　He　was　overwhelmed；　buried　beneath　avalanches　of

punches　delivered　from　every　angle　and　position　by　a　past

master　in　the　art。　He　was　overborne；　swept　back　against　the

ropes；　separated　by　the　referee；　and　swept　back　against　the

ropes　again。



It　was　not　a　fight。　It　was　a　slaughter；　a　massacre。　Any

audience；　save　a　prize　fighting　one；　would　have　exhausted　its

emotions　in　that　first　minute。　Danny　was　certainly　showing　what

he　could　doa　splendid　exhibition。　Such　was　the　certainty　of

the　audience；　as　well　as　its　excitement　and　favoritism；　that　it

failed　to　take　notice　that　the　Mexican　still　stayed　on　his

feet。　It　forgot　Rivera。　It　rarely　saw　him；　so　closely　was　he

enveloped　in　Danny's　man…eating　attack。　A　minute　of　this　went

by；　and　two　minutes。　Then；　in　a　separation；　it　caught　a　clear

glimpse　of　the　Mexican。　His　lip　was　cut；　his　nose　was　bleeding。

As　he　turned　and　staggered　into　a　clinch；　the　welts　of　oozing

blood；　from　his　contacts　with　the　ropes；　showed　in　red　bars。

across　his　back。　But　what　the　audience　did　not　notice　was　that

his　chest　was　not　heaving　and　that　his　eyes　were　coldly　burning

as　ever。　Too　many　aspiring　champions；　in　the　cruel　welter　of

the　training　camps；　had　practiced　this　man…eating　attack　on

him。　He　had　learned　to　live　through　for　a　compensation　of　from

half　a　dollar　a　go　up　to　fifteen　dollars　a　weeka　hard　school；

and　he　was　schooled　hard。



Then　happened　the　amazing　thing。　The　whirling；　blurring　mix…up

ceased　suddenly。　Rivera　stood　alone。　Danny；　the　redoubtable

Danny；　lay　on　his　back。　His　body　quivered　as　consciousness

strove　to　return　to　it。　He　had　not　staggered　and　sunk　down；　nor

had　he　gone　over　in　a　long　slumping　fall。　The　right　hook　of

Rivera　had　dropped　him　in　midair　with　the　abruptness　of　death。

The　referee　shoved　Rivera　back　with　one　hand；　and　stood　over

the　fallen　gladiator　counting　the　seconds。　It　is　the　custom　of

prize…fighting　audiences　to　cheer　a　clean　knock…down　blow。　But

this　audience　did　not　cheer。　The　thing　had　been　too　unexpected。

It　watched　the　toll　of　the　seconds　in　tense　silence；　and

through　this　silence　the　voice　of　Roberts　rose　exultantly：



〃I　told　you　he　was　a　two…handed　fighter！〃



By　the　fifth　second；　Danny　was　rolling　over　on　his　face；　and

when　seven　was　counted；　he　rested　on　one　knee；　ready　to　rise

after　the　count　of　nine　and　before　the　count　of　ten。　If　his

knee　still　touched　the　floor　at　〃ten；〃　he　was　considered

〃down；〃　and　also　〃out。〃　The　instant　his　knee　left　the　floor；　he

was　considered　〃up；〃　and　in　that　instant　it　was　Rivera's　right

to　try　and　put　him　down　again。　Rivera　took　no　chances。　The

moment　that　knee　left　the　floor　he　would　strike　again。　He

circled　around；　but　the　referee　circled　in　between；　and　Rivera

knew　that　the　seconds　he　counted　were　very　slow。　All　Gringos

were　against　him；　even　the　referee。



At　〃nine〃　the　referee　gave　Rivera　a　sharp　thrust　back。　It　was

unfair；　but　it　enabled　Danny　to　rise；　the　smile　back　on　his

lips。　Doubled　partly　over；　with　arms　wrapped　about　face　and

abdomen；　he　cleverly　stumbled　into　a　clinch。　By　all　the　rules

of　the　game　the　referee　should　have　broken　it；　but　he　did　not；

and　Danny　clung　on　like　a　surf…battered　barnacle　and　moment　by

moment　recuperated。　The　last　minute　of　the　round　was　going

fast。　If　he　could　live　to　the　end；　he　would　have　a　full　minute

in　his　corner　to　revive。　And　live　to　the　end　he　did；　smiling

through　all　desperateness　and　extremity。



〃The　smile　that　won't　come　off！〃　somebody　yelled；　and　the

audience　laughed　loudly　in　its　relief。



〃The　kick　that　Greaser's　got　is　something　God…awful；〃　Danny

gasped　in　his　corner　to　his　adviser　while　his　handlers　worked

frantically　over　him。



The　second　and　third　rounds　were　tame。　Danny；　a　tricky　and

consummate　ring　general；　stalled　and　blocked　and　held　on；

devoting　himself　to　recovering　from　that　dazing　first…round

blow。　In　the　fourth　round　he　was　himself　again。　Jarred　and

shaken；　nevertheless　his　good　condition　had　enabled　him　to

regain　his　vigor。　But　he　tried　no　man…eating　tactics。　The

Mexican　had　proved　a　tartar。　Instead；　he　brought　to　bear　his

best　fighting　powers。　In　tricks　and　skill　and　experience　he　was

the　master；　and　though　he　could　land　nothing　vital；　he

proceeded　scientifically　to　chop　and　wear　down　his　opponent。　He

landed　three　blows　to　Rivera's　one；　but　they　were　punishing

blows　only；　and　not　deadly。　It　was　the　sum　of　many　of　them　that

constituted　deadliness。　He　was　respectful　of　this　two…handed

dub　with　the　amazing　short…arm　kicks　in　both　his　fists。



In　defense；　Rivera　developed　a　disconcerting　straight…left。

Again　and　again；　attack　after　attack　he　straight…lefted　away

from　him　with　accumulated　damage　to　Danny's　mouth　and　nose。　But

Danny　was　protean。　That　was　why　he　was　the　coming　champion。　He

could　change　from　style　to　style　of　fighting　at　will。　He　now

devoted　himself　to　infighting。　In　this　he　was　particularly

wicked；　and　it　enabled　him　to　avoid　the　other's　straight…left。

Here　he　set　the　house　wild　repeatedly；　capping　it　with　a

marvelous　lockbreak　and　lift　of　an　inside　upper…cut　that　raised

the　Mexican　in　the　air　and　dropped　him　to　the　mat。　Rivera

rested　on　one　knee；　making　the　most　of　the　count；　and　in　the

soul　of　him　he　knew　the　referee　was　counting　short　seconds　on　him。



Again；　in　the　seventh；　Danny　achieved　the　diabolical　inside

uppercut。　He　succeeded　only　in　staggering　Rivera；　but；　in　the

ensuing　moment　of　defenseless　helplessness；　he