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第32节

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

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