cwilleford.cockfighter-第29部分

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　fifteen　dollars　a　dozen　and　worth　a　hell　of　a　lot　more！　And　of　course；　Allen　Roundhead　and　Claret　setting　eggs　were　a　bargain　indeed　at　fifteen　dollars　a　dozen。
　　Smiling　at　the　sign；　I　turned　into　Omar's　farm。　A　man　like　Omar　Baradinsky　would　be　a　good　partner　for　me。　Why　not？　I　couldn't　think　of　a　single　valid　objection。
　　That　evening　after　supper；　when　Omar　brought　out　the　bottle　of　John　Jameson；　a　partnership　was　formed。
　　
　　
　　
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　　For　the　next　three　days　Omar　and　I　lived　out　of　his　station　wagon；　driving　through　southern　Alabama　and　picking　up　his　country…walked　roosters　from　various　farmers。　The　back　of　the　station　wagon　had　been　fified　with　young　stags　before　we　left；　each　of　them　in　a　separate　coop。　Every　time　we　picked　up　a　mature　cock　we　left　a　stag　to　replace　it。
　　Omar　paid　these　Alabama　farmers　ten　dollars　a　year　for　the　privilege　of　leaving　one　of　his　gamecocks　with　the　farmer's　flock　of　hens。　In　addition　to　the　board　bill；　he　also　had　to　buy　up　and　kill　all　the　farmer's　stags　each　year。　Selecting　the　right　farm　walk　for　a　fighting　cock　is　an　art；　and　Omar　had　done　a　careful；　thorough　job。　All　his　Alabama　walks　were　more　than　adequate。
　　A　gamecock　is　a　bird　that　loves　freedom　of　movement。　With　his　harem　at　his　heels；　a　cock　will　search　for　food　all　day　long；　getting　as　far　as　three　or　more　miles　away　from　his　chicken　house　on　the　farm。　The　more　difficult　his　search　for　food；　the　greater　his　stamina　bees。　At　night；　of　course；　once　the　chickens　are　asleep；　the　farmer　must　sneak　out　and　scatter　enough　corn　in　the　yard　to　supplement　the　diet。　But　he　must　never　put　out　enough　feed　to　pletely　satisfy　the　chickens。　Like　members　of　a　welfare　state；　chickens　who　don't　have　to　get　the　hell　out　and　scratch　for　their　living　will　soon　learn　to　stand　around　waiting　for　a　free　handout；　getting　fat　and　useless。
　　The　hillier　the　farmland；　the　better　it　is　for　the　cock's　legs。　Trees　to　roost　in　at　night；　green　fields；　and；　whenever　possible；　a　fast…flowing　brook　for　fresh　water　are　the　requisites　for　a　good　walk。　Florida　is　too　flat　for　good　walks；　and　Omar　had　been　wise　to　put　his　roosters　out　in　southern　Alabama。
　　To　assist　us　in　picking　up　the　half…wild；　country…walked　gamecocks；　I　had　brought　along　my　big　Middleton　Gray。　He　had　a　deep；　strong　voice　and　an　exceptionally　aggressive　disposition。　We　had　little　difficulty　in　getting　the　halfwild　cocks　to　e　back　to　the　farmyards。
　　First；　we　drove　into　a　farmer's　yard；　and　Omar　told　him　we　were　there　to　pick　up　the　rooster；　and　that　we　had　another　to　replace　him。
　　〃Well；　now；　Mr。　Baradinsky；〃　the　farmer　said；　invariably　scratching　his　head；　〃I　ain't　seen　your　rooster　for　two　or　three　days　now。〃
　　〃Don't　worry；〃　Omar　would　laugh。　〃He'll　be　here　in　a　minute。〃
　　By　that　time；　I　would　have　the　big　Gray　heeled　with　a　pair　of　soft　sparring　muffs。　As　soon　as　I　dropped　the　Gray　in　the　yard；　he　would　begin　to　look　for　hens；　crowing　deep　from　his　throat。　Within　seconds；　an　answering　crow　would　echo　from　the　fields　or　woods　a　mile　away。　As　we　watched；　the　cock　we　came　for　would　be　running　toward　us　as　fast　as　his　strong　legs　could　carry　him；　his　harem　scattered　and　trailing　out　behind　him。　He　often　crowed　angrily　as　he　ran…　Who　is　this　threat　to　my　kingdom？　This　interloper　who　would　steal　my　hens？…he　seemed　to　say。　When　he　reached　the　yard；　he　attacked　immediately；　and　the　Gray；　seeing　all　those　pretty　hens；　piled　right　into　him　with　the　sparring　muffs。　Omar　would　catch　the　wild　country…walked　cock；　and　I'd　put　the　Gray　back　into　his　coop。
　　After　closely　examining　the　wild　gamecock；　I'd　saw　off　his　natural　spurs　a　half　inch　from　the　leg；　and　arm　him　with　the　other　pair　of　sparring　muffs。　We　pitted　the　two　cocks　then　and　there　to　see　how　the　bird　fought。　It　is　very　difficult　to　spot　a　runner　on　his　own　domain…often　a　useless　dunghill　rooster　will　fight　to　protect　his　own　hens…but　I　could　always　get　a　fair　idea　of　the　bird's　fighting　ability。　If　the　cock　was　satisfactory；　we　left　a　young　stag　to　take　over　the　harem　and　placed　the　cock　in　the　stag's　coop。　Before　leaving；　Omar　would　pay　the　farmer　ten　dollars　in　advance　for　the　next　year's　board　and　warn　the　man　against　clipping　the　new　stag's　wings。　We　never　took　the　farmer's　word　either。　Before　leaving　we　always　checked　personally　to　see　that　there　weren't　any　other　full…grown　roosters；　turkeys；　or　guinea　fowl　around。　A　stag　must　be　in　plete　control　of　the　yard。　If　there　was　a　mature　rooster　on　the　farm；　dunghill　or　otherwise；　the　stag　might　have　been　intimidated　and　gone　into　hack；　submitting　to　the　dunghill's　rule。
　　Omar　had　developed　a　firm；　gruff　manner　with　these　farmers　who　loaned　their　farms　for　walks。　Despite　his　strong　New　York　accent；　which　rural　southerners　distrust　instinctively；　he　had　won　them　over　pletely　during　four　years　of　contact。　He　didn't　merely　leave　a　stag　and　forget　about　it　until　the　following　season。　He　wrote　letters　periodically　during　the　year；　asking　how　his　rooster　was　getting　along；　enclosing　a　stamped；　self…addressed　postcard　to　make　sure　he　would　get　a　reply。　The　farmers　responded　cheerfully　to　Omar's　active　interest；　and；　if　nothing　else；　they　were　awed　by　his　impressive　jet…black　beard。
　　Most　farmers；　once　they　accept　the　idea　of　having　a　gamecock　instead　of　a　dunghill　ruling　their　hens；　are　well　pleased　by　the　setup。　Why　shouldn't　they　be？　The　eggs　they　obtain　are　bigger　and　better…tasting；　the　offspring　of　a　gamecock　have　more　meat；　and　the　small　payment　of　ten　dollars　a　year　is　money　from　an　unexpected　source。　And　any　farmer　who　keeps　a　few　hens　has　to　have　a　rooster。　Why　not　a　game　rooster？
　　Every　time　we　picked　up　another　country…walked　rooster　my　heart　swelled　with　pleasure。　Their　feathers　were　tight　and　their　yellow　eyes　were　bright　and　alert。　Their　exercised　bodies　were　firm　to　the　touch；　and　their　dubbed　bs　usually　had　the　dark　red　color　of　health。　Out　of　the　twentyeight　cocks　Omar　had　on　country　walks；　we　picked　up　twenty…one。　The　other　seven；　in　my　considered　opinion；　needed　another　full　year　of　exercise　in　the　country。
　　
　　
　　I　was　happy　to　get　back　to　Ocala　and　anxious　to　get　to　work。　The　little　town　of　Ocala　has　always　been　my　favorite　Florida　city；　bining；　as　it　does；　the　best　aspects　of　Georgia　and　the　worst　side　of　Florida。　A　small　city；　of　about　twenty　thousand　permanent　residents；　and　some　one　hundred　miles　below　the　Georgia　state　line；　Ocala　is　where　the　state　of　Florida　really　begins。
　　As　a　driver　enters　town　on　the　wide　island…divided　highway；　the　first　sight　that　hits　his　eyes　is　the　banner　above　the　road：　OCALA…BIRTHPLACE　OF　NEEDLES！　This　famous　racehorse　wifi　be　remembered　by　the　Ocala　townspeople　forever。
　　To　his　left；　six　miles　away；　is　Silver　Springs；　one　of　the　most　publicized　tourist　attractions　in　the　world。　On　either　side　of　the　highway　there　are　weird　attractions；　displays　and　souvenir　shops。　mercial　Florida　also　begins　at　Ocala。　But　the　town　itself　is　like　a　small　Georgia　town。　Decent；　respectable　and　God…fearing。　The　townspeople　are　good　southerners…they　provide　their　services　to　the　rural　residents　and　to　themselves；　and　take　only　from　the　vacationing　tourists　with　cameras　dangling　from　their　rubber　necks。
　　Two　miles　outside　the　city　limits　in　gently　swelling　country　is　my　small　leased　farm　of　twenty…three　acres；　a　small　house　to　live　in；　an　outhouse　and　outside　shower；　a　wellconstructed　concrete　brick　cockhouse　and　some　thirty…odd　coop　walks。　My　shack；　as　I　called　it；　was　unpainted　but　fortable。　The　man　who　built　it　had　started　with　concrete　bricks；　but　ran　short　before　the　walls　had　reached　shoulder　height。　The　remainder　of　the　house　had　been　pleted　with　rough；　unfinished　pine；　and　roofed　over　with　two　welded　sheets　of　corrugated　iron。　In　a　downpour；　the　heavy　pounding　of　raindrops　on　the　corrugated　iron　had　often　driven　me　out　of　the　shack。
　　Omar　dropped　me　off　first　and　then　drove　to　his　own　farm。　He　had　much　better　facilities　to　take　care　of　the　cocks　than　I　had；　and；　upon　his　suggestion；　I　had　agreed　to　alternate　between　our　farms　for　conditioning　purposes。
　　Buford　ran　out　of　the　cockhouse　as　I　entered　the　yard；　a　big　white　smile　shining　in　the　middle　of　his　ebony　face。
　　〃Mr。　Frank；〃　he　said　happily；　taking　my　bag；　〃I　sure　is　happy　to　see　you！　My　curiosity's　been　drivin'　me　near　crazy　for　two　days。　Just　wait　tifi　you　see　them　big　packages　I　put　in　the　house！〃
　　I　entered　the　shack；　followed　closely　by　Buford；　and　the　first　thing　I　did　was　reach　behind　the　dresser　for　my　pint　of　gin。　As　I　had　suspected；　the　bottle　contained　less　than　two　ounces；　and　it　had　been　almost　half　full　when　Omar　had　picked　me　up　three　days　before。　I　looked　sternly　at　Buford；　but　he　was　pointing　innocently　to　the　two　large　cardboard　boxes　on　my　bed。
　　〃I　don'　know　what　they　is；　Mr。　Frank；〃　he　said　quickly。　〃The　man　from　the　express　brought　'em　out　day　before　yesterday；　and　I　signed　your　name。　What　do　you　reckon's　in　there？〃
　　I　finished　the　gin；　and　handed　the　empty　to　Buford。　Buford　had　had　his　share　while　I　was　gone…the　man　had　an　unerring　instinct　for　discovering　where　I　hid　my　bottle。　He　thought　that　finding　my　bottle　was　some　kind　of　a　game。
　　I　took　out　my　knife　and　slit　open　the　two　cardboard　boxes。　One　box　contained　a　speaker；　and　the　long　box　held　an　electric　guitar。　But　what　a　guitar！　The　instrument　was　fashioned　out　of　some　kind　of　light　metal；　painted　a　bright　lemon　yellow　and　trimmed　in　Chinese　red。　On　the　box；　above　the　strings；　there　were　two　sets　of　initials；　encircled　by　an　outline　of　a　heart。
　　
　　If　I　thought　I　had　made　the　grand　gesture　when　I　sent　Bernice　a　dozen　yellow　roses；　she　had　certainly　topped　me。　The　electric　guitar　and　its　matching　yellow　amplifying　speaker　must　have　set　her　back　four　or　five　hundred　dol　lars。　I　searched　through　the　excelsior　in　both　cartons　for　a　note　of　some　kind；　but　there　wasn't　even　a　receipt　for　the　instrument。　The　initials　inside　the　heart　contained　her　message。
　　Buford　looked　admiringly　at　the　guitar；　shaking　his　head　with　feigned　amazement。　As　soon　as　I　looked　at　him　he　laughed　the　professional　laugh　of　the　American　Negro。
　　〃Whooee！〃　he　exploded　with　false　amusement。　〃You　got　yourself　a　guitar　now　for　sure；　Mr。　Frank！〃