The Abysmal Brute | Page 6

broken. He slacked
his body and dropped his arms in token that the bout was over, felt the
instant release, and staggered clear.
"He'll--he'll do," he gasped, looking the admiration he lacked the breath
to utter.
Old Pat's eyes were brightly moist with pride and triumph.
"An' what will you be thinkin' to happen when some of the gay an' ugly
ones tries to rough it on him?" he asked.
"He'll kill them, sure," was Stubener's verdict.
"No; he's too cool for that. But he'll just hurt them some for their
dirtiness."
"Let's draw up the contract," said the manager.

"Wait till you know the whole worth of him!" Old Pat answered. "'Tis
strong terms I'll be makin' you come to. Go for a deer-hunt with the boy
over the hills an' learn the lungs and the legs of him. Then we'll sign up
iron-clad and regular.
Stubener was gone two days on that hunt, and he learned all and more
than old Pat had promised, and came back a weary and very humble
man. The young fellow's innicence of the world had been startling to
the case-hardened manager, but he had found him nobody's fool/ Virgin
though his mind was, untouched by all save a narrow mountain
experience, nevertheless he had proved possession of a natural keeness
and shrewdness far beyond the average. In a way he was a mystery to
Sam, who could not understand terrible equanimity of temper. Nothing
ruffled him or worried him, and his patience was of an enduring
primitiveness. He never swore, not even the futile and emasculated
cussing words of sissy-boys.
"I'd swear all right if I wanted to," he had explained, when challenged
by his companion. "But I guess I've never come to needing it. When I
do, I'll swear I suppose."
Old Pat, resolutely adhering to his decision, said good-by at the cabin.
"It won't be long, Pat, boy, when I'll be readin' about you in the papers.
I'd like to go along, but I'm afeard it's me for the mountains till the
end."
And then, drawing the manager aside, the old man turned loose on him
almost savagely.
"Remember what I've ben tellin' ye over an' over. The boy's clean an'
he's honest. He knows nothing of the rottenness of the game. I kept it
all away from him, I tell you. He don't know the meanin' of fake. He
knows only the bravery, an' romance an' glory of fightin', and I've filled
him up with tales of the old ring heroes, though little enough, God
knows, it's set him afire. Man, man, I'm tellin' you that I clipped the
fight columns from the newspapers to keep it 'way from him--him
a-thinkin' I was wantin' them for me scrap book. He don't know a man

ever lay down or threw a fight. So don't turn the boy's stomach. That's
why I put in the null and void clause. The first rottenness and the
contract's broke of itself. No snide division of stake-money; no secret
arrangements with the movin' pitcher men for guaranteed distance.
There's slathers o' money for the both of you. But play it square or you
lose. Understand?
"And whatever you'll be doin' watch out for the women," was old Pat's
parting admonishment, young Pat astride his horse and reining in
dutifully to hear. "Women is death an' damnation, remember that. But
when you do find the one, the only one, hang on to her. She'll be worth
more than glory an' money. But first be sure, an' when you're sure, don't
let her slip through your fingers. Grab her with the two hands of you
and hang on. Hang on if all the world goes to smash an' smithereens.
Pat, boy, a good woman is... a good woman. 'Tis the first word and
last."
CHAPTER III
Once in San Francisco, Sam Stubener's troubles began. Not that young
Pat had a nasty temper, or was grouchy as his father had feared. On the
contrary, he was phenomenally sweet and mild. But he was homesick
for his beloved mountains. Also, he was secretly appalled by the city,
though he trod its roaring streets imperturbable as a red Indian.
"I came down here to fight," he announced, at the end of the first week.
"Where's Jim Hanford?"
Stubener whistled.
"A big champion like him wouldn't look at you," was his answer. "'Go
and get a reputation,' is what he'd say."
"I can lick him."
"But the public doesn't know that.

If you licked him you'd be champion of the world, and no champion
ever became so with his first fight."
"I can."
"But the public doesn't know it, Pat. It wouldn't come to see you fight.
And it's the crowd that brings the money and the big purses. That's why
Jim Hanford wouldn't