by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XI THE FALL OF THE RED McGEE
When by popular request, emphasized by loud shouts, Red McGee was calledupon to put on the gloves, he stepped forward smiling. Johnny slid to thevery edge of his box for a good look. This was the first time he had seenthe man. He was a little startled.
"So that's what I'm going up against?" he murmured low.
Six feet of man, broad shoulders, a shock of red hair that stood straightup, a square jaw and glittering eyes, this was Red McGee.
And was he popular? The hoarse shouts of approval that made the roughrafters ring as he stepped out on the floor left no room for doubt.
Red was to box three rounds with a man named Tomingo, a dark-facedforeigner who piloted a gill-net boat. Johnny was thankful for this briefreprieve before he too should step into the ring.
That Red McGee was no mean boxer he learned at once. He had a head on hisshoulders and a remarkable eye.
"He seems to anticipate every move this Tomingo makes," Johnny groaned ina whisper.
"They have boxed together before," was Blackie's answer. "Perhaps manytimes. When you play a game with a man many times, just any game, youcome to know his tricks. But you, Johnny, he doesn't know you. It's anadvantage.
"But, Johnny," he cautioned after a moment's silence, "don't let him getto you. Look at those arms! If he hits you just once, a good square one,you're sunk.
"And, boy," his voice dropped, "this is a big spot. It's important,mighty important. These fellows must respect us, have faith in the_Stormy Petrel_ and her crew. If they don't, they'll go storming outthere six hundred strong, looking for trouble. And if they find it! Oh,man! They might start a war."
"There!" Johnny breathed. "There's the bell. That match is over. And RedMcGee is just nicely warmed up."
The tall, lanky boatman who acted as referee shuffled off the floor.
"Who's next?" Red McGee invited with a broad smile.
It was evident at once that few of the men cared to take him on. Tomingowas wearing a flaming patch where Red's glove had raked his chin.
"Red," one of his own men volunteered, "there's one of them kids from the_Stormy Petrel_ who'd like to learn a little about boxing. Would y' minda teachin' him?"
"One of those boys?" Red looked squarely at Johnny. Johnny flinched. DidRed know? "Oh, sure!" Red's lips spread in a broad smile. "I like boys,always have. Sure I'll show him.
"Look, Tom," he turned to the referee. "Help the boy on with his gloves.Be sure he gets 'em on the right hands. It's awkward boxing if youdon't." He let out a low chuckle.
Once again Johnny flinched. What did Red know? Probably nothing. This wasjust his way of poking fun at the _Stormy Petrel's_ crew. This madeJohnny a little angry, but not too much.
"Show 'em, Johnny," Blackie hissed in his ear. Next Johnny found himselfshaking the great paw of Red McGee. And so the fight began.
Nothing had been said about the number of rounds, nor their length.Johnny was a little taken back when the referee settled himself on a boxin a corner.
"But then," it came to him with a sudden shock, "I'm supposed to be alearner. When you're taking lessons there are no rounds. Well, I'll be alearner, for a while."
He carried out his plan to the letter, almost. After giving him a fewwords of instruction, Red invited him to "Sail right in. Hit me if youcan."
The boy did not exactly "sail in." Instead, he danced about the big manin an awkward but tantalizing fashion. There is nothing more irritatingthan a fly buzzing around one's head. Johnny was, for the moment, RedMcGee's fly. He was here, there and everywhere. At times he appeared toleave himself wide open to one of Red's sledge-hammer blows, but none ofthese really connected.
All the time Johnny was thinking, "How long will he stand this? How long?How--"
The answer came sooner than he expected. His arms were all but at hisside, he was looking Red squarely in the eyes when he saw those eyeschange. It was like the change of a traffic light from green to red. Of asudden, a huge gloved paw came squarely at the side of his head.
No one will ever know what that blow might have done had it arrived atits proposed destination. It did not arrive. Johnny's head was not there.Instead, it was Red who, to his vast surprise, received the lightest oftaps on the tip of his chin.
The crowd saw and roared. There were men, plenty of them, who knew that,had Johnny not pulled that punch, Red would have hit the floor.
Did Red know? For the life of him Johnny could not tell. One thing he didknow, this was no longer a boxing lesson, nor was it to be a sparringmatch. It was instead to resemble an old-fashioned fight with no gong, noreferee and no time out. Red McGee was aroused. There could be no doubtabout that.
Johnny kept his opponent going about the ring in a whirl. Twice hestopped and all but fell into Red's waiting fists. Twice he heard thewhistle of a glove as it brushed his ear.
Once, when he was in Blackie's corner, he heard a hoarse whisper,"Steady, there, boy. I can't afford to lose you."
Once, in a mad rush, Red McGee tripped, falling to his knees. Backingaway into a corner, Johnny gave him time to regain his feet. Gladly wouldthe boy have remained in that corner for the count of a hundred. All toosoon he caught Red's challenge.
"Come out an' box."
"Red's in a tight place," Blackie said in a low tone to Lawrence. "I'malmost sorry I got him into it. He's got a bull by the tail and can't letgo. If he quits now he's afraid he'll lose the respect of his men. If hegoes on, well, anything may happen."
In the end two things happened. Both were surprises to Johnny.
The older man was tiring. Johnny found that by using a little strategy hecould tap the man's chin at will. Be it said to his credit, he tappedthat round red chin only twice. There is little to be gained by anunnecessarily large score.
Those two taps, little heavier than love pats, stirred up something deepin Red's nature. His men were looking on a new man. Not that they thoughtthe less of him for it. Rough and ready men of the northern wilds, theyunderstood as few ever do.
Then things began to happen fast. Red lunged at Johnny. The boy dodged.The man came at him again. In one of those seconds when reason goes on avacation, Johnny tried one more pulled punch to the chin. He did not pullit fast enough. Red McGee fell upon that punch as a polar bear falls upona spear.
There came a resounding thwack. Then, doubling up like an empty sack, RedMcGee spread himself neatly on the floor. He was out for much more thanthe count of ten.
The hush that followed was appalling. But the shout that followed!Nothing Johnny had ever before heard even remotely resembled it. Perhapsa gladiator in the Roman Arena, had he returned from the dead, might haverecognized it with joy or fear.
In vain did Johnny try to analyze that sound. Was it a cheer? Or was it acurse? Should he be carried out like a football hero or crushed by aninfuriated mob?
Strangely enough, as he stood there half paralyzed by the sudden shock ofit all, he was conscious of one voice. Above the shout had risen awoman's scream. And he had not known there was a woman in the place. Whowas she? Where had she come from? Why was she here?
"It's all right, boys," he heard a big voice boom. "He didn't aim to doit. He pulled his punch. Twice he did it. He--"
The speaker broke off short. There was a girl at his side, or perhaps ayoung lady. Johnny was not sure. A round, freckled face and angry eyes,that was all he saw. In another second she would have been at him, toothand nail. But the big foreman, who had done the talking, wrapped a longarm about her waist as he said, "It's all right, Rusty. Everything is O.K., child. He didn't aim to do it. An' your daddy ain't hurt none tospeak of. It's what they call a knockout. He'll be 'round in a twinkle."
At that the girl hid her face in the foreman's jacket to murmur fiercely,"The brute! The ugly little brute!"
And Johnny knew she meant him. Because she was a girl, because he hadhurt her and he felt miserable, he slipped back into the outer fringe oft
he milling throng.
