cwilleford.cockfighter-第33部分

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　　He　then　accepted　preposterous　bets　in　a　mincing　falsetto；　managing　to　make　enough　noise　for　a　major　cockpit。　It　was　ical　to　watch　his　wild　antics；　charging　around　the　pit；　flopping　his　big　bare　arms　loosely；　his　black　beard　glistening　under　the　lights。　I　could　never　picture　Omar　in　a　homburg　and　gray　flannel　suit　walking　down　Madison　Avenue。　He　fitted　in　with　a　cocker's　life　as　though　he　had　been　born　to　it。
　　After　only　a　few　nights　of　noise　and　lights；　every　one　of　the　cocks　could　stand　quietly　and　patiently　in　the　center　of　the　pit；　and　pay　no　mind　either　to　the　records　or　Omar。
　　And　of　course；　we　had　a　bottle　every　night；　either　gin　or　bourbon；　and　we　passed　it　back　and　forth。　Omar　would　tell　me　stories　about　New　York；　the　advertising　business；　or　anecdotes　about　radio　and　television　people　he　had　known。
　　Quite　suddenly　he　would　stop　relating　a　story　in　midsentence…〃Frank；　do　you　want　to　know　something？　You　and　I；　you　big；　dumb；　silent　son…of…a…bitch；　we've　got　the　best　life　in　the　entire　world！　I　wouldn't　trade　my　life　now　if　I　was　given　every　filter…tip　account　in　the　United　States　and　fifty　percent　of　the　stock！〃
　　He　would　reach　for　the　bottle；　take　a　healthy　swig　and　pass　it　to　me。
　　〃I　know　you're　tired　of　listening　to　me　ramble　on。　Why　don't　you　get　out　that　electronic　monster　of　yours　and　play　us　something？〃
　　I　had　rigged　an　extension　cord　from　the　shack；　and　I　would　play　for　an　hour　or　so；　sitting　on　the　bench　beside　the　lighted　cockpit。　I　never　played　songs；　I　more　or　less　played　with　the　guitar　instead；　trying　out　chord　progressions；　or　attempting　to　express　a　mood　of　some　kind。　Omar　never　said　whether　he　liked　my　music　or　not；　but　he　listened　attentively。
　　One　night　Buford　drove　over　with　a　big　pot　of　greens　his　wife　had　cooked　for　me。　Omar　told　Buford　to　get　his　enamel　cup　from　the　hook　above　the　faucet　where　he　kept　it；　and　then　filled　it　with　whiskey。　Before　Buford　had　finished　the　cupful　of　whiskey　he　got　mellow　and　sang　for　us…old…time　blues　and　field　hollers。　When　he　held　a　note　long　enough　for　me　to　catch　it；　I　would　hit　the　corresponding　chord　on　my　guitar。　I　might　have　been　a　little　drunk；　but　I　thought　Buford　had　the　greatest　voice　I　had　ever　heard。
　　These　were　all　pleasant　evenings　for　me。　I　have　always　guarded　my　aloneness　jealously。　But　Omar　didn't　encroach　on　my　solitude；　he　plemented　it。　For　the　first　time　in　my　life；　I　realized　that　panionship　between　two　kindred　spirits　is　not　impossible…as　long　as　each　man　respects　the　other's　rights。
　　
　　
　　On　the　eighth　day　of　conditioning；　the　exercising　of　each　cock　was　cut　in　half。　On　the　morning　of　the　ninth　day　my　Mellhorn　Black　got　moody　and　refused　to　eat。　He　wasn't　sick；　he　was　mean　and　sulky。　I　put　the　Gray　game　hen　in　his　coop　with　him　for　a　couple　of　hours　and　he　snapped　out　of　his　lethargy。　When　I　removed　the　hen　and　dumped　a　spoonful　of　feed　on　the　floor　of　his　coop；　he　gobbled　it　up　in　no　time。
　　Omar　thought　this　was　funny。　〃Maybe　that's　what's　wrong　with　me；　Frank；〃　he　laughed。　〃If　somebody　dropped　a　blonde　into　my　bed　for　two　hours　every　night；　I　could　probably　eat　those　beans　of　yours　and　like　them。〃
　　On　the　twelfth　day；　the　cocks　were　taken　off　exercise　and　food　together。　They　weren't　given　any　water；　but　they　didn't　want　water。　This　was　a　good　sign；　and　meant　they　were　ready　for　the　pit。　They　would　fast　right　up　until　pit　time。　All　five　cocks　were　in　the　peak　of　condition。　I　made　Omar　〃feel〃　every　one　of　them；　and　his　fingers　learned　the　difference。
　　〃If　I　didn't　know　better；　Frank；〃　he　said；　〃I'd　think　these　cocks　were　made　out　of　stone。〃
　　Sunday　afternoon　we　put　the　cocks　into　traveling　coops　and　drove　to　the　cockpit　in　Omar's　station　wagon。　The　Ocala　Game　Club　wasn't　really　in　Ocala…it　was　closer　to　Martel；　eight　miles　west　of　the　city。　But　it　was　called　the　Ocala　pit　because　out…of…town　cockfighters　stayed　in　Ocala　motels　when　the　February　24　S。C。　derby　was　held。　During　the　entire　season；　the　pit　operator；　an　old　retired　farmer　named　Bandy　Taylor；　held　hack　matches　almost　every　Sunday。
　　Bandy　Taylor　was　in　his　late　sixties；　with　brown　leathery　skin　and　enough　deep　wrinkles　on　his　face　to　resemble　a　relief　map。　His　legs　were　so　bowed；　he　couldn't　have　caught　a　pig　in　a　trench。
　　Although　Bandy's　pit　was　not　an　elaborate　setup；　all　of　the　Lownes　County　cockfighters　liked　to　meet　there。　His　wife　maintained　a　small　stand　outside　the　pit　area；　where　she　sold　coffee；　Coca…Colas　and　hamburgers；　and　Bandy　charged　a　reasonable；　one…dollar　admission　fee。　The　old　man；　an　authorized　S。C。T。　referee；　never　bet　on　the　fights；　but　he　made　enough　money　on　admission　fees　and　the　food　his　wife　sold　to　get　by。　Any　wins　I　had　there　could　be　signed　by　Bandy　on　the　official　records；　and　they　would　be　acceptable　by　the　Mifiedgevifie　judges　for　qualifying　purposes。
　　The　crowd　was　small；　considering　that　four　hacks　between　Pete　Chocolate　and　our　new　partnership　had　been　scheduled。　There　were　thirty　some…odd　spectators；　including　a　nervous　Yankee　tourist　from　Silver　Springs。　There　were　only　a　half　dozen　other　cockers；　looking　for　extra　hacks。　I　wanted　to　get　an　extra　hack　for　Icky；　but　the　prospects　weren't　too　good。　I　wrote　my　name　and　Icky's　weight　on　the　blackboard　and　hoped　for　the　best。
　　Pete　Chocolate　won　the　toss　and　decided　to　fight　from　bottom　weights　up。　His　fighters　were　all　Spanish　crosses；　and　they　were　in　fine　feather。　Omar　held　for　me　while　I　heeled　the　4：02　Roundhead；　and　then　he　tried　to　rustle　up　a　few　bets　in　the　bleachers。　I　considered　fighting　Icky　against　the　other　4：02　opponent；　but　the　Spanish　Ace　looked　too　formidable。　I　had　made　a　good　decision。　Omar　was　also　lucky　in　the　stands；　because　the　only　bet　he　could　get　was　a　ten…dollar　even　money　wager。
　　The　Spanish　cock　uncoupled　my　Roundhead；　breaking　his　spine；　in　the　first　pitting。　He　was　counted　out；　paralyzed　and　unable　to　move　a　feather。　Omar　paid　Pete　Chocolate　the　fifty…dollar　loss；　and　paid　off　the　fan　in　the　stands。　Because　of　our　quick　loss　in　the　first　fight；　Omar　was　able　to　lay　a　thirty…dollar　bet　on　the　oute　of　the　second　hack。
　　In　the　second　fight；　I　showed　the　5：00　Middleton　Gray；　and　he　finished　his　opponent　in　the　fourth　pitting。　My　Gray　shuffler　got　above　the　Spanish　every　time。
　　The　third　battle　was　one　of　those　fights　that　never　appear　to　get　anywhere。　The　two　cocks　were　evenly　matched；　and　very　little　damage　was　done　until　the　eighteenth　pitting。　By　the　twenty…third　pitting　we　were　alternating　on　calling　for　the　count。　On　my　count；　however；　the　Spanish　developed　a　rattle　from　an　earlier　wound；　refused　to　face；　and　the　hack　was　mine。　Our　Roundhead　was　well　battered　and　wouldn't　be　able　to　fight　again　for　at　least　two　months。
　　The　fourth　hack　was　a　miracle　win。　My　5：10　Mellhorn　Black　had　been　in　fights　before；　and　he　smothered　the　Spanish　in　the　first　two　pittings。　In　the　third　pitting；　the　Black　attacked　furiously　the　moment　I　released　his　tail。　The　Spanish　was　bowled　over　and　fell　back　close　to　the　wall。　He　leaped　high　into　the　air；　and　landed　on　the　ground　outside　the　pit。　The　Spanish　was　game…he　wasn't　a　runner　by　any　means…but　he　was　outside　the　pit　and　my　Black　was　still　inside。
　　It　was　a　tense　moment。　I　held　my　breath；　and　none　of　the　spectators　made　a　sound。　If　Pete's　Spanish　had　jumped　back　into　the　pit；　the　fight　would　have　been　continued。　He　didn't。　Confused；　twisting　his　head　about　in　search　of　my　gamecock；　the　Spanish　darted　under　the　bleachers　in　bewildered　retreat。　The　hack　was　mine　by　default。
　　I　had　known　Pete　Chocolate　for　several　years；　but　this　was　the　first　time　I　ever　saw　him　get　really　angry。　He　caught　his　gamecock；　removed　the　heels；　and　swung　the　cock's　neck　against　an　upright　post。　He　then　jerked　off　the　cock's　head。　This　isn't　easy。　It　takes　a　strong　man　to　pull　a　chicken's　head　off　with　his　bare　hands。　He　tossed　the　dead　chicken　on　the　ground　and　came　back　to　the　pit。
　　〃That's　the　first　runner　I　ever　had；　Frank；〃　Pete　said　blackly。　〃A　Spanish　don't　run！　That　same　cock　won　two　fights　before。　Is　that　a　runner？　D'you　ever　hear　of　me　showing　a　runner？〃
　　I　shook　my　head　solemnly。　Blood　had　dripped　from　the　dead　chicken's　neck　onto　the　white　polo　shirt　Pete　was　wearing　with　his　tuxedo；　and　his　white　tennis　shoes　were　splashed　with　blood。
　　〃He　didn't　run；　Pete；〃　Omar　said。　〃He　was　confused　and　didn't　remember　where　the　pit　was；　that's　all。〃
　　〃He　won't　get　confused　again！〃　Pete　said　with　satisfaction。　He　whipped　out　his　wallet　and　paid　Omar　off。　We　were　ahead　one　hundred　dollars　from　Pete　Chocolate；　and　Omar　had　won　eighty　dollars　more　in　side　bets。　We　had　lost　one　cock；　and　our　Roundhead　had　been　battered　so　badly　he　might　not　ever　win　another　fight。　We　were　just　about　even。
　　A　good　first　day；　I　thought；　as　Omar　joined　me　at　the　lunch　stand。
　　〃Frank；〃　he　said；　〃there's　a　kid　at　the　cockhouse　with　a　Gray　cross　of　some　kind　who　wants　to　fight　Icky。　His　name　is　Junior　Hollenbeck。　D'you　know　him？〃
　　I　nodded　and　finished　my　Coke。　I　didn't　actually　know　Junior；　but　his　father；　Rex　Hollenbeck；　was　a　real…estate　man　in　Ocala。　He　had　introduced　himself　to　me　one　day　in　town。　Mr。　Hollenbeck　was　a　fan；　he　said；　and　he　had　seen　me　handling　at　the　Orlando　International　Tourney。
　　〃Do　you　want　to　fight　him；　Frank？　The　kid's　only　about　nineteen；　and　his　Gray　shades　Icky　two　full　ounces。〃
　　I　started　toward　the　cockhouse　to　see　whether　I　did　or　not。　Junior　was　waiting　in　front　of　Icky's　coop；　cradling　his　Gray　gamecock　in　his　arms。　He　was　a　well…dressed　young　man；　wearing　buckled　shoes；　charcoal…flannel　Daks；　and　a　gaily　colored　body　shirt。　His　tangled　chestnut　hair　was　worn　long；　all　the　way　to　his　shoulders；　and　his　face　was　sunburned。　He　had　a　sparse　straggly　moustache；　and　the　pointed　chin　whiskers　of　a　young　ram　goat。　Evidently　his　nose　had　peeled；　because　it　was　smeared　with　a　thick　covering　of　white　salve。
　　〃This　is　Mr。　Mansfield；　Junior；〃　Omar　introduced　us。
　　〃I　know。　I　saw　the　4：02　weight　on　the　blackboard；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　Junior　said；　all　business；　〃and　thought　I'd　challenge　you。　My　cock's　won　two　fights　this　year　and　has　a　couple　of　ounces　over　yours；　but　I'm　wffling　to　cut　away　some　feathers　for　the　chance　to　fight　you。〃
　　I　star