cwilleford.cockfighter-第28部分

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　　The　Black　was　too　helpless　to　fight　off　the　Gray；　so　I　picked　up　the　muff…armed　bird　and　gave　him　to　Omar　to　hold　for　a　moment。　I　took　the　can　of　lighter　fluid　out　of　my　hip　pocket；　and　sprinlded　the　liquid　liberally　over　the　Mellhorn　Black。　Flipping　my　lighter　into　action；　I　applied　the　lighter　to　the　cock；　and　his　feathers　blazed　into　oily　flames。
　　When　Omar　returned　the　Gray　I　pitted　him　against　the　burning　bird　from　the　score　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　pit。　He　walked　stiff…winged　toward　the　downed　Black　with　his　long　neck　outstretched；　holding　his　head　low　above　the　ground。　The　fire　worried　and　puzzled　him；　and　he　was　afraid　to　hit　with　his　padded　spurs。　The　Gray　pecked　savagely　at　the　Black's　head；　however；　even　though　it　was　on　fire；　and　managed　to　pluck　out　an　eye　on　his　first　bill　thrust。
　　The　Black　tried　to　stand　again；　fluttering　his　smoldering　wings；　but　his　impassioned　struggles　only　succeeded　in　increasing　the　flames。　The　smell　of　scorching　feathers　filled　the　air　with　a　pungent；　acid　stench。　As　I　grabbed　the　Gray's　tail　with　my　right　hand；　I　held　my　nose　with　my　left。　As　the　flames　puffed　out　altogether；　the　Black　lay　quietly。　The　charred　quffis　resembled　matchheads　or　cloves　dotting　his　undressed　body；　and　for　a　moment　I　thought　he　was　dead。　But　as　I　allowed　the　straining　Gray　to　close　the　gap　between　them；　the　dying　Mellhorn　raised　his　head　and　pecked　blindly　in　the　general　direction　of　the　approaching　Gray。　With　that　last　peck；　a　feeble　peck　that　barely　raised　his　head　an　inch　above　the　ground；　he　died。
　　I　put　the　Gray　under　my　arm　and　turned　around　to　see　what　Omar　thought　of　this　remarkable　display　of　gameness。　But　Omar　had　gone　inside　the　shack。　I　cut　the　sparring　muffs　away　from　the　Gray's　spurs　and　returned　him　to　his　coop。
　　Omar　sat　at　the　table；　staring　at　his　open　hands；　when　I　joined　him　inside　the　shack。　I　opened　a　pint　of　gin　I　had　stashed　away　behind　the　dresser…because　of　Buford…and　put　the　bottle　on　the　table。　Omar　took　a　long　pull；　set　the　bottle　down；　and　I　took　a　long　one　myself。　I　needed　that　drink　and　felt　a　little　sick　at　my　stomach。　And　I　knew　that　Omar　felt　as　badly　as　I　did。　But　what　else　could　I　do？　I　had　lost　a　wonderful　gamecock；　but　I　could　now　assume　that　his　five　brothers　would　be　as　game　as　he　had　been。　The　unfortunate　part　of　the　testing　was　that　I　didn't　really　know　if　the　brothers　were　equally　game。　But　I　could　now　assume　that　they　were。
　　〃I　couldn't　treat　a　gamecock　like　that；　Frank；〃　Omar　said；　without　looking　at　me；　keeping　his　eyes　on　his　open　hands。　〃Sure；　I　know。　A　chicken　is　supposed　to　be　an　insensitive　animal　and　all　that　crap。　But　I　couldn't　do　it！　I　could　no　more　set　a　cock　on　fire　than　I　could…〃　His　mind　searched　for　something　he　could　no　more　than　do；　and　then　he　shrugged　his　heavy　shoulders　and　took　another　shot　of　gin。
　　I　took　another　short　one　myself。
　　〃Was　he　game；　Frank？　It　was　too　much　for　me。　I　couldn't　stick　around　to　see。〃
　　I　nodded　glumly　and　lit　a　cigarette。
　　〃Unbelievable；　isn't　it！　Burning　like　a　damned　torch　and　still　trying　to　fight！　A　man　couldn't　take　that　kind　of　punishment　and　still　fight。　Not　a　man　in　this　world　could　do　it。〃
　　I　stubbed　out　the　cigarette。　It　tasted　like　scorched　feathers；　despite　the　menthol　and　filter　tip。
　　〃Well；　Frank；〃　Omar　said　pensively；　〃there're　a　lot　of　things　I　don't　like　about　cockfighting；　but　a　cocker's　got　to　take　the　bad　with　the　good。〃
　　I　nodded　in　agreement　and　pushed　the　bottle　toward　him。
　　Omar　studied　my　face　and；　ignoring　the　bottle；　leaned　forward。
　　〃You　and　I　need　each　other；　Frank；〃　he　said　suddenly。　〃Why　don't　we　form　a　partnership　for　the　season？〃
　　For　some　reason　his　suggestion　startled　me；　and　I　shook　my　head　automatically。
　　〃Don't　decide　so　hastily；〃　he　continued　earnestly；　leaning　over　the　table。　〃I've　picked　up　twenty　cocks　already；　and　I've　still　got　better　birds　to　pick　up　on　walks　in　Alabama。　Between　the　two　of　us；　if　you　conditioned　and　handled；　and　I　took　charge　of　the　business　end；　we　could　have　one　hell　of　a　season。　I　know　how　tough　it's　been　since　you　lost　your　voice。　I　still　remember　how　you　used　to　holler　and　argue　and　knock　down　the　odds　before　the　fights。　What　do　you　say；　Frank？〃
　　I　was　tempted。　Two　of　my　cocks　were　gone　before　I　started。　I　only　had　thirteen　birds　left　for　the　season；　and　my　cash　was　low。　If　we　bined　our　gamecocks　we　could　enter　every　money　main　and　derby　on　the　circuit；　and　if　Omar　didn't　interfere　with　my　conditioning…
　　〃Let　it　go　for　now；〃　Omar　said　carelessly；　getting　to　his　feet。　〃Just　think　about　it　for　a　while。　I　don't　like　to　mention　my　money；　but　I'm　lousy　with　capital。　I've　got　a　lot　more　than　you　have；　and　if　you　had　a　partner　putting　up　the　forfeits；　entry　fees；　and　doing　all　the　betting；　you　could　concentrate　on　conditioning　and　handling。　And　on　a　partnership　we　can　split　everything　we　take　in　right　down　the　middle。〃
　　He　turned　in　the　doorway　and　his　shadow　fell　across　my　face。　〃No　matter　what　you　decide；〃　he　said　cheerfully；　〃e　over　to　my　place　for　dinner　tonight。　I'll　take　that　high…stationed　Mellhorn　home　with　me。　I've　always　wanted　to　eat　a　Mellhorn　Black　with　dumplings。〃　He　laughed。　〃Chicken　and　dumplings　for　two！　That's　about　thirty…seven；　fifty　a　plate；　isn't　it？〃　Omar　waved　from　the　door　and　disappeared　from　sight。
　　I　remained　seated　at　the　table。　A　few　minutes　later　I　heard　the　engine　of　his　new　Pontiac　station　wagon　turn　over；　and　listened　to　the　sounds　as　he　drove　out　of　the　yard。　The　pot　of　coffee　on　the　hot　plate　burbled　petulantly。　I　poured　another　cup；　and　a　cock　crowed　outside；　reminding　me　of　all　the　work　still　to　be　done　that　morning。　I　couldn't　put　off　the　dubbing　of　Icky　any　longer。
　　Ordinarily；　the　deaf　ears；　wattles　and　b　are　trimmed　away　when　the　bird　is　a　young　stag　of　six　or　seven　months。　Ed　Middleton；　for　reasons　known　only　to　himself；　had　failed　to　dub　Icky。　He　probably　meant　to　keep　Icky　as　a　pet　and　brood　cock　and　had　never　intended　to　pit　him。　But　I　was　going　to　pit　him；　and　he　had　to　be　dubbed　for　safety　in　battle。　With　his　lovely　free…flowing　b　and　dangling　wattles；　an　opposing　cock　could　get　a　billhold　and　shuffle　him　to　death　in　the　first　pitting。　I　had　been　putting　off　the　dubbing；　afraid　that　he　might　bleed　to　death。　With　a　stag　the　danger　is　slight；　but　Icky　was　fully　matured；　more　than　a　year…and…a…half　old。　And　it　had　to　be　done。
　　I　got　my　shears；　both　the　straight　and　the　curved　pairs；　and　went　outside　to　Icky's　coop　room。
　　He　was　a　friendly　chicken；　used　to　kindness　and　handling；　and　ran　toward　me　when　I　opened　the　gate。　I　picked　him　up；　sat　on　the　bench　in　front　of　the　shack；　and　went　to　work　on　his　b。　With　my　experience　I　don't　need　a　man　to　hold　a　chicken　for　me。　I've　dubbed　as　many　as　fifty　stags　in　a　single　morning；　all　by　myself；　and　I've　never　had　one　die　from　loss　of　blood　yet。　But　I　was　extra　careful　with　Icky。
　　Gripping　his　body　firmly　between　my　knees；　and　holding　his　head　with　my　left　hand；　I　clipped　his　b　with　the　straight　shears　as　close　to　the　head　as　possible。　Many　cockers　leave　about　an　eighth　of　an　inch；　believing　erroneously　that　the　slight　padding　will　give　the　head　protection　from　an　opponent's　pecking。　But　I've　never　known　a　cock　to　be　pecked　to　death。　I　trim　right　down　to　the　bone　because　the　veins　are　larger　close　to　the　head　and　there　isn't　as　much　bleeding。　I　cut　sharply；　and　with　solid；　quick　snips；　so　the　large　veins　were　closed　by　the　force　of　the　shears。　Luckily；　Icky's　head　bled　very　little。　I　then　cut　away　the　wattles　and　deaf　ears　with　the　curved　shears；　again　taking　my　time；　and　did　a　clean　job。　As　an　afterthought　I　pulled　a　few　short　feathers　out　of　the　hackle　and　planted　them　in　Icky's　b。　The　little　blue　feathers　would　grow　there　and　ornament　his　head；　until　they　were　billed　out　by　an　irate　adversary。
　　When　I　pleted　the　dubbing　I　turned　him　loose　in　his　coop。　He　had　held　still　nicely；　and　because　he　had　been　so　good　about　it；　I　caught　the　Middleton　Gray　game　hen　running　loose　in　the　yard；　and　put　her　into　his　coop。　The　dubbing　hadn't　bothered　him。　He　mounted　the　hen　before　she　had　taken　two　steps。　A　moment　later　he　flew　to　his　roosting　pole　and　crowed。　Within　a　week　his　head　would　be　healed　pletely；　and　he　would　be　ready　for　conditioning。
　　Omar　had　taken　the　decapitated　Ace　Black　with　him；　but　the　charred　Mellhorn　was　still　in　the　pit。　I　buried　the　dead　chicken　and　the　other　cock's　severed　head　in　the　sand　before　eating　lunch。
　　If　I　had　been　pletely　broke；　or　without　any　gamecocks　of　my　own；　I　wouldn't　have　considered　a　partnership　with　Omar。　But　I　had　enough　Ace　chickens　to　hold　up　my　end。　Omar　had　excellent；　purebred　gamecocks。　All　he　needed　was　a　man　like　me　to　work　the　hell　out　of　them。　The　idea　of　forming　a　partnership　with　anybody　had　never　occurred　to　me　before；　although　partnerships　were　mon　enough　in　cockfighting　circles。　Besides；　I　had　a　good　deal　of　affection　for　Omar；　almost　a　paternal　feeling　toward　him；　despite　the　fact　that　he　was　more　than　twenty　years　older　than　me。　He　wanted　success　very　much；　and　there　were　many　things　he　had　to　learn。　And　there　was　a　lot　that　I　could　teach　him。
　　After　feeding　the　chickens　that　evening；　I　drove　to　Omar's　farm　for　supper。　His　farm　was　on　the　state　road；　and　his　house　was　a　two　bedroom…den　structure　with　asphalt…tile　floors。　It　was　a　luxurious　house　pared　to　my　one…and…a…half…room　shack。　There　was　an　arch　above　the　entrance　gate；　and　a　sign　painted　with　red　letters　on　a　white　background　stated：
　　
　　THE　O。B。　GAME　FARM
　　〃Our　Chickens　Lay　Every　Night！〃
　　
　　Omar　had　been　in　advertising　too　many　years　to　pass　up　a　good　slogan。　In　addition　to　the　arch　sign；　there　was　a　smaller　sign　nailed　to　the　post　of　the　gate　at　the　eye　level　of　passing　motorists。
　　
　　EGGS。　15　PER　DOZEN
　　
　　At　least　once　a　week；　some　tourist　driving　down　the　highway　toward　Santos　or　Belleview　would　stop　and　attempt　to　buy　eggs　from　Omar；　thinking　that　the　sign　was　in　error　and　that　the　eggs　were　fifteen　cents　a　dozen。　Omar　enjoyed　the　look　of　surprise　on　their　faces　when　he　told　them　that　there　was　indeed　no　mistake。　Of　course　the　eggs　were　fifteen　dollars　a　dozen　and　worth　a　hell　of　a　lot　more！　And　of　course；　Allen　Roundhead　and　Claret