round, huhâgood workâIâll bet that Gill carried his manâheâs a foxâlot of brains. Well, you oughta stay here a while. Iâll smoke you up for some good matches.â
âAnother fellow wanted me to see you.â
âWhoâs that?â
âJoe MankerlitzâPhoenix.â
âOh yeahâhe did write me about youâthatâs been some time agoâa good fellow, Joeâshady as a woodsâbut a honey if heâs on your side.â
Buck Logan had an immense head, large ears, square teeth, and bulging eyes. His body, once muscular, was now flabby. His delicate hands belied the rest of his body. His short fingers tapered. He wore thick glasses, against which his eyelashes rubbed. A wrinkle of neck fell over his collar.
Around sixty, his hair was thick gray.
He peered at Shane.
âWhat do you weighâabout 165âyouâll fill out yetâyouâve got the frame for a heavyweight. Come up and see me any time. Where you staying? Better go to the Avonânice quiet placeâIâll get you set there-twelve a week. It pays to look flush. If people think youâre in the money they give you moreâunless youâre a newspapermanâthen all hell wonât give you any money.â
Through Loganâs influence he was matched with Barney McCoy at a âsmokerâ given by the Elks Lodge.
He won the decision. The verdict helped make him a âcardâ in Omaha.
A match with Blinky Miller in Council Bluffs followed.
âHeâs supposed to be Eddie Turner from Chicagoâbut heâs a ringer,â Buck Logan explained. âYou can take him. Iâll use it after you lick himâitâs a better story.â
A âringerâ was a successful pugilist who used an assumed name and wagered money on himself against a less able bruiser.
After he knocked Miller out, Shane went to his dressing-room.
âYou can hit, my boy,â said Miller, rubbing his jaw, âYou surprised meâ Iâm clean as a whistleâbet my whole end of the purse.â
âHereâs a hundred,â said Shane.
The defeated fighter took the money. âThanks, Pal, Iâll remember thisâIâm Blinky Miller.â
âSure,â smiled Shane, âI was on from the first.â
By a quirk of compassion, Buck Logan did not use the story. A rival paper told of Millerâs identity.
Miller called on Buck.
âThanks, Buckâyouâre real people. You canât blame me for losinâ to that boy. I knew the first round I was up against it. He cracked me on the jaw so hard it was like someone run a sword in my ear. It was lucky I lasted as long as I did. I bet everything I had on myself.â
âThatâs tough,â said Logan, âCan I help?â
âNoâthe kid comes to my dressinâ room and kicks in a hundred.â
âWhoâRory?â exclaimed Logan.
âSureâit come near knockinâ me out aginâthose things ainât done this year.â
Buck wiped his heavy glasses. âWell Iâll be damned.â His eyes roved the clutter of the room. âHeâs a dead right kidâgot all the right instincts.â
âHe can fight like hell tooââ Blinky Miller added.
âYeahâthe poor devilâI hope he donât go the way all you guys goâitâs like Spider Smith used to sayââ
Shane greeted Logan. âHereâs your enemy,â the writer said.
âHello,â he shook Millerâs hand.
âBlinky just told me a nice thing you did.â
âWhoâme?â Shane stammered.
âYes, it was a damn nice thing,â said Miller.
Shane frowned at him for silence.
Sensing the situation, Logan cut in, âYou remember Spider Smithâdonât you, Blinky?â
âSure thing,â answered Miller.
âI wonder whatever became of him?â
âGod
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