the game-第6部分

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fighter　than　then。　　His　eyes　were　too　mild；　there　was　not　a　spark　of

the　beast　in　them；　nor　in　his　face；　while　his　body　seemed　too

fragile；　what　of　its　fairness　and　smoothness；　and　his　face　too

boyish　and　sweet…tempered　and　intelligent。　　She　did　not　have　the

expert's　eye　for　the　depth　of　chest；　the　wide　nostrils；　the

recuperative　lungs；　and　the　muscles　under　their　satin　sheaths

crypts　of　energy　wherein　lurked　the　chemistry　of　destruction。　　To

her　he　looked　like　a　something　of　Dresden　china；　to　be　handled

gently　and　with　care；　liable　to　be　shattered　to　fragments　by　the

first　rough　touch。



John　Ponta；　stripped　of　his　white　sweater　by　the　pulling　and　hauling

of　two　of　his　seconds；　came　to　the　centre　of　the　ring。　　She　knew

terror　as　she　looked　at　him。　　Here　was　the　fighterthe　beast　with　a

streak　for　a　forehead；　with　beady　eyes　under　lowering　and　bushy

brows；　flat…nosed；　thick…lipped；　sullen…mouthed。　　He　was　heavy…

jawed；　bull…necked；　and　the　short；　straight　hair　of　the　head　seemed

to　her　frightened　eyes　the　stiff　bristles　on　a　hog's　back。　　Here

were　coarseness　and　brutishnessa　thing　savage；　primordial；

ferocious。　　He　was　swarthy　to　blackness；　and　his　body　was　covered

with　a　hairy　growth　that　matted　like　a　dog's　on　his　chest　and

shoulders。　　He　was　deep…chested；　thick…legged；　large…muscled；　but

unshapely。　　His　muscles　were　knots；　and　he　was　gnarled　and　knobby；

twisted　out　of　beauty　by　excess　of　strength。



〃John　Ponta；　West　Bay　Athletic　Club；〃　said　the　announcer。



A　much　smaller　volume　of　cheers　greeted　him。　　It　was　evident　that

the　crowd　favored　Joe　with　its　sympathy。



〃Go　in　an'　eat　'm；　Ponta！　　Eat　'm　up！〃　a　voice　shouted　in　the　lull。



This　was　received　by　scornful　cries　and　groans。　　He　did　not　like　it；

for　his　sullen　mouth　twisted　into　a　half…snarl　as　he　went　back　to

his　corner。　　He　was　too　decided　an　atavism　to　draw　the　crowd's

admiration。　　Instinctively　the　crowd　disliked　him。　　He　was　an

animal；　lacking　in　intelligence　and　spirit；　a　menace　and　a　thing　of

fear；　as　the　tiger　and　the　snake　are　menaces　and　things　of　fear；

better　behind　the　bars　of　a　cage　than　running　free　in　the　open。



And　he　felt　that　the　crowd　had　no　relish　for　him。　　He　was　like　an

animal　in　the　circle　of　its　enemies；　and　he　turned　and　glared　at

them　with　malignant　eyes。　　Little　Silverstein；　shouting　out　Joe's

name　with　high　glee；　shrank　away　from　Ponta's　gaze；　shrivelled　as　in

fierce　heat；　the　sound　gurgling　and　dying　in　his　throat。　　Genevieve

saw　the　little　by…play；　and　as　Ponta's　eyes　slowly　swept　round　the

circle　of　their　hate　and　met　hers；　she；　too；　shrivelled　and　shrank

back。　　The　next　moment　they　were　past；　pausing　to　centre　long　on

Joe。　　It　seemed　to　her　that　Ponta　was　working　himself　into　a　rage。

Joe　returned　the　gaze　with　mild　boy's　eyes；　but　his　face　grew

serious。



The　announcer　escorted　a　third　man　to　the　centre　of　the　ring；　a

genial…faced　young　fellow　in　shirt…sleeves。



〃Eddy　Jones；　who　will　referee　this　contest；〃　said　the　announcer。



〃Oh；　you；　Eddy！〃　men　shouted　in　the　midst　of　the　applause；　and　it

was　apparent　to　Genevieve　that　he；　too；　was　well　beloved。



Both　men　were　being　helped　into　the　gloves　by　their　seconds；　and　one

of　Ponta's　seconds　came　over　and　examined　the　gloves　before　they

went　on　Joe's　hands。　　The　referee　called　them　to　the　centre　of　the

ring。　　The　seconds　followed；　and　they　made　quite　a　group；　Joe　and

Ponta　facing　each　other；　the　referee　in　the　middle；　the　seconds

leaning　with　hands　on　one　another's　shoulders；　their　heads　craned

forward。　　The　referee　was　talking；　and　all　listened　attentively。



The　group　broke　up。　　Again　the　announcer　came　to　the　front。



〃Joe　Fleming　fights　at　one　hundred　and　twenty…eight；〃　he　said；　〃John

Ponta　at　one　hundred　and　forty。　　They　will　fight　as　long　as　one　hand

is　free；　and　take　care　of　themselves　in　the　break…away。　　The

audience　must　remember　that　a　decision　must　be　given。　　There　are　no

draws　fought　before　this　club。〃



He　crawled　through　the　ropes　and　dropped　from　the　ring　to　the　floor。

There　was　a　scuttling　in　the　corners　as　the　seconds　cleared　out

through　the　ropes；　taking　with　them　the　stools　and　buckets。　　Only

remained　in　the　ring　the　two　fighters　and　the　referee。　　A　gong

sounded。　　The　two　men　advanced　rapidly　to　the　centre。　　Their　right

hands　extended　and　for　a　fraction　of　an　instant　met　in　a　perfunctory

shake。　　Then　Ponta　lashed　out；　savagely；　right　and　left；　and　Joe

escaped　by　springing　back。　　Like　a　projectile；　Ponta　hurled　himself

after　him　and　upon　him。



The　fight　was　on。　　Genevieve　clutched　one　hand　to　her　breast　and

watched。　　She　was　bewildered　by　the　swiftness　and　savagery　of

Ponta's　assault；　and　by　the　multitude　of　blows　he　struck。　　She　felt

that　Joe　was　surely　being　destroyed。　　At　times　she　could　not　see　his

face；　so　obscured　was　it　by　the　flying　gloves。　　But　she　could　hear

the　resounding　blows；　and　with　the　sound　of　each　blow　she　felt　a

sickening　sensation　in　the　pit　of　her　stomach。　　She　did　not　know

that　what　she　heard　was　the　impact　of　glove　on　glove；　or　glove　on

shoulder；　and　that　no　damage　was　being　done。



She　was　suddenly　aware　that　a　change　had　come　over　the　fight。　　Both

men　were　clutching　each　other　in　a　tense　embrace；　no　blows　were

being　struck　at　all。　　She　recognized　it　to　be　what　Joe　had　described

to　her　as　the　〃clinch。〃　　Ponta　was　struggling　to　free　himself；　Joe

was　holding　on。



The　referee　shouted；　〃Break！〃　　Joe　made　an　effort　to　get　away；　but

Ponta　got　one　hand　free　and　Joe　rushed　back　into　a　second　clinch；　to

escape　the　blow。　　But　this　time；　she　noticed；　the　heel　of　his　glove

was　pressed　against　Ponta's　mouth　and　chin；　and　at　the　second

〃Break！〃　of　the　referee；　Joe　shoved　his　opponent's　head　back　and

sprang　clear　himself。



For　a　brief　several　seconds　she　had　an　unobstructed　view　of　her

lover。　　Left　foot　a　trifle　advanced；　knees　slightly　bent；　he　was

crouching；　with　his　head　drawn　well　down　between　his　shoulders　and

shielded　by　them。　　His　hands　were　in　position　before　him；　ready

either　to　attack　or　defend。　　The　muscles　of　his　body　were　tense；　and

as　he　moved　about　she　could　see　them　bunch　up　and　writhe　and　crawl

like　live　things　under　the　white　skin。



But　again　Ponta　was　upon　him　and　he　was　struggling　to　live。　　He

crouched　a　bit　more；　drew　his　body　more　compactly　together；　and

covered　up　with　his　hands；　elbows；　and　forearms。　　Blows　rained　upon

him；　and　it　looked　to　her　as　though　he　were　being　beaten　to　death。



But　he　was　receiving　the　blows　on　his　gloves　and　shoulders；　rocking

back　and　forth　to　the　force　of　them　like　a　tree　in　a　storm；　while

the　house　cheered　its　delight。　　It　was　not　until　she　understood　this

applause；　and　saw　Silverstein　half　out　of　his　seat　and　intensely；

madly　happy；　and　heard　the　〃Oh；　you；　Joe's！〃　from　many　throats；　that

she　realized　that　instead　of　being　cruelly　punished　he　was

acquitting　himself　well。　　Then　he　would　emerge　for　a　moment；　again

to　be　enveloped　and　hidden　in　the　whirlwind　of　Ponta's　ferocity。







CHAPTER　V







The　gong　sounded。　　It　seemed　they　had　been　fighting　half　an　hour；

though　from　what　Joe　had　told　her　she　knew　it　had　been　only　three

minutes。　　With　the　crash　of　the　gong　Joe's　seconds　were　through　the

ropes　and　running　him　into　his　corner　for　the　blessed　minute　of

rest。　　One　man；　squatting　on　the　floor　between　his　outstretched　feet

and　elevating　them　by　resting　them　on　his　knees；　was　violently

chafing　his　legs。　　Joe　sat　on　the　stool；　leaning　far　back　into　the

corner；　head　thrown　back　and　arms　outstretched　on　the　ropes　to　give

easy　expansion　to　the　chest。　　With　wide…open　mouth　he　was　breathing

the　towel…driven　air　furnished　by　two　of　the　seconds；　while

listening　to　the　counsel　of　still　another　second　who　talked　with　low

voice　in　his　ear　and　at　the　same　time　sponged　off　his　face；

shoulders；　and　chest。



Hardly　had　all　this　been　accomplished　（it　had　taken　no　more　than

several　seconds）；　when　the　gong　sounded；　the　seconds　scuttled

through　the　ropes　with　their　paraphernalia；　and　Joe　and　Ponta　were

advancing　against　each　other　to　the　centre　of　the　ring。　　Genevieve

had　no　idea　that　a　minute　could　be　so　short。　　For　a　moment　she　felt

that　this　rest　had　been　cut；　and　was　suspicious　of　she　knew　not

what。



Ponta　lashed　out；　right　and　left；　savagely　as　ever；　and　though　Joe

blocked　the　blows；　such　was　the　force　of　them　that　he　was　knocked

backward　several　steps。　　Ponta　was　after　him　with　the　spring　of　a

tiger。　　In　the　involuntary　effort　to　maintain　equilibrium；　Joe　had

uncovered　himself；　flinging　one　arm　out　and　lifting　his　head　from

beneath　the　sheltering　shoulders。　　So　swiftly　had　Ponta　followed

him；　that　a　terrible　swinging　blow　was　coming　at　his　unguarded　jaw。

He　ducked　forward　and　down；　Ponta's　fist　just　missing　the　back　of

his　head。　　As　he　came　back　to　the　perpendicular；　Ponta's　left　fist

drove　at　him　in　a　straight　punch　that　would　have　knocked　him

backward　through　the　ropes。　　Again；　and　with　a　swiftness　an

inappreciable　fraction　of　time　quicker　than　Ponta's；　he　ducked

forward。　　Ponta's　fist　grazed　the　backward　slope　of　the　shoulder；

and　glanced　off　into　the　air。　　Ponta's　right　drove　straight　out；　and

the　graze　was　repeated　as　Joe　ducked　into　the　safety　of　a　clinch。



Genevieve　sighed　with　relief；　her　tense　body　relaxing　and　a

faintness　coming　over　her。　　The　crowd　was　cheering　madly。

Silverstein　was　on　his　feet；　shouting；　gesticulating；　completely　out

of　himself。　　And　even　Mr。　Clausen　was　yelling　his　enthusiasm；　at　the

top　of　his　lungs；　into　the　ear　of　his　nearest　neighbor。



The　clinch　was　broken　and　the　fight　went　on。　　Joe　blocked；　and

backed；　and　slid　around　the　ring；　avoiding　blows　and　living　somehow

through　the　whirlwind　onslaughts。　　Rarely　did　he　strike　blows

himself；　for　Ponta　had　a　quick　eye　and　could　defend　as　well　as

attack；　while　Joe　had　no　chance　against　the　other's　enormous

vitality。　　His　hope　lay　in　th