the game-第7章

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The　ninth　sounded　and　was　gone；　when　the　referee　gave　Ponta　a　last

backward　shove　and　Joe　came　to　his　feet；　bunched　up；　covered　up；

weak；　but　cool；　very　cool。　　Ponta　hurled　himself　upon　him　with

terrific　force；　delivering　an　uppercut　and　a　straight　punch。　　But

Joe　blocked　the　two；　ducked　a　third；　stepped　to　the　side　to　avoid　a

fourth；　and　was　then　driven　backward　into　a　corner　by　a　hurricane　of

blows。　　He　was　exceedingly　weak。　　He　tottered　as　he　kept　his

footing；　and　staggered　back　and　forth。　　His　back　was　against　the

ropes。　　There　was　no　further　retreat。　　Ponta　paused；　as　if　to　make

doubly　sure；　then　feinted　with　his　left　and　struck　fiercely　with　his

right　with　all　his　strength。　　But　Joe　ducked　into　a　clinch　and　was

for　a　moment　saved。



Ponta　struggled　frantically　to　free　himself。　　He　wanted　to　give　the

finish　to　this　foe　already　so　far　gone。　　But　Joe　was　holding　on　for

life；　resisting　the　other's　every　effort；　as　fast　as　one　hold　or

grip　was　torn　loose　finding　a　new　one　by　which　to　cling。　　〃Break！〃

the　referee　commanded。　　Joe　held　on　tighter。　　〃Make　'm　break！　　Why

the　hell　don't　you　make　'm　break？〃　Ponta　panted　at　the　referee。

Again　the　latter　commanded　the　break。　　Joe　refused；　keeping；　as　he

well　knew；　within　his　rights。　　Each　moment　of　the　clinch　his

strength　was　coming　back　to　him；　his　brain　was　clearing；　the　cobwebs

were　disappearing　from　before　his　eyes。　　The　round　was　young；　and　he

must　live；　somehow；　through　the　nearly　three　minutes　of　it　yet　to

run。



The　referee　clutched　each　by　the　shoulder　and　sundered　them

violently；　passing　quickly　between　them　as　he　thrust　them　backward

in　order　to　make　a　clean　break　of　it。　　The　moment　he　was　free；　Ponta

sprang　at　Joe　like　a　wild　animal　bearing　down　its　prey。　　But　Joe

covered　up；　blocked；　and　fell　into　a　clinch。　　Again　Ponta　struggled

to　get　free；　Joe　held　on；　and　the　referee　thrust　them　apart。　　And

again　Joe　avoided　damage　and　clinched。



Genevieve　realized　that　in　the　clinches　he　was　not　being　beaten

why；　then；　did　not　the　referee　let　him　hold　on？　　It　was　cruel。　　She

hated　the　genial…faced　Eddy　Jones　in　those　moments；　and　she　partly

rose　from　her　chair；　her　hands　clenched　with　anger；　the　nails

cutting　into　the　palms　till　they　hurt。　　The　rest　of　the　round；　the

three　long　minutes　of　it；　was　a　succession　of　clinches　and　breaks。

Not　once　did　Ponta　succeed　in　striking　his　opponent　the　deadly　final

blow。　　And　Ponta　was　like　a　madman；　raging　because　of　his　impotency

in　the　face　of　his　helpless　and　all　but　vanquished　foe。　　One　blow；

only　one　blow；　and　he　could　not　deliver　it！　　Joe's　ring　experience

and　coolness　saved　him。　　With　shaken　consciousness　and　trembling

body；　he　clutched　and　held　on；　while　the　ebbing　life　turned　and

flooded　up　in　him　again。　　Once；　in　his　passion；　unable　to　hit　him；

Ponta　made　as　though　to　lift　him　up　and　hurl　him　to　the　floor。



〃V'y　don't　you　bite　him？〃　Silverstein　taunted　shrilly。



In　the　stillness　the　sally　was　heard　over　the　whole　house；　and　the

audience；　relieved　of　its　anxiety　for　its　favorite；　laughed　with　an

uproariousness　that　had　in　it　the　note　of　hysteria。　　Even　Genevieve

felt　that　there　was　something　irresistibly　funny　in　the　remark；　and

the　relief　of　the　audience　was　communicated　to　her；　yet　she　felt

sick　and　faint；　and　was　overwrought　with　horror　at　what　she　had　seen

and　was　seeing。



〃Bite　'm！　　Bite　'm！〃　voices　from　the　recovered　audience　were

shouting。　　〃Chew　his　ear　off；　Ponta！　　That's　the　only　way　you　can

get　'm！　　Eat　'm　up！　　Eat　'm　up！　　Oh；　why　don't　you　eat　'm　up？〃



The　effect　was　bad　on　Ponta。　　He　became　more　frenzied　than　ever；　and

more　impotent。　　He　panted　and　sobbed；　wasting　his　effort　by　too　much

effort；　losing　sanity　and　control　and　futilely　trying　to　compensate

for　the　loss　by　excess　of　physical　endeavor。　　He　knew　only　the　blind

desire　to　destroy；　shook　Joe　in　the　clinches　as　a　terrier　might　a

rat；　strained　and　struggled　for　freedom　of　body　and　arms；　and　all

the　while　Joe　calmly　clutched　and　held　on。　　The　referee　worked

manfully　and　fairly　to　separate　them。　　Perspiration　ran　down　his

face。　　It　took　all　his　strength　to　split　those　clinging　bodies；　and

no　sooner　had　he　split　them　than　Joe　fell　unharmed　into　another

embrace　and　the　work　had　to　be　done　all　over　again。　　In　vain；　when

freed；　did　Ponta　try　to　avoid　the　clutching　arms　and　twining　body。

He　could　not　keep　away。　　He　had　to　come　close　in　order　to　strike；

and　each　time　Joe　baffled　him　and　caught　him　in　his　arms。



And　Genevieve；　crouched　in　the　little　dressing…room　and　peering

through　the　peep…hole；　was　baffled；　too。　　She　was　an　interested

party　in　what　seemed　a　death…strugglewas　not　one　of　the　fighters

her　Joe？but　the　audience　understood　and　she　did　not。　　The　Game　had

not　unveiled　to　her。　　The　lure　of　it　was　beyond　her。　　It　was　greater

mystery　than　ever。　　She　could　not　comprehend　its　power。　　What

delight　could　there　be　for　Joe　in　that　brutal　surging　and　straining

of　bodies；　those　fierce　clutches；　fiercer　blows；　and　terrible　hurts？

Surely；　she；　Genevieve；　offered　more　than　thatrest；　and　content；

and　sweet；　calm　joy。　　Her　bid　for　the　heart　of　him　and　the　soul　of

him　was　finer　and　more　generous　than　the　bid　of　the　Game；　yet　he

dallied　with　bothheld　her　in　his　arms；　but　turned　his　head　to

listen　to　that　other　and　siren　call　she　could　not　understand。



The　gong　struck。　　The　round　ended　with　a　break　in　Ponta's　corner。

The　white…faced　young　second　was　through　the　ropes　with　the　first

clash　of　sound。　　He　seized　Joe　in　his　arms；　lifted　him　clear　of　the

floor；　and　ran　with　him　across　the　ring　to　his　own　corner。　　His

seconds　worked　over　him　furiously；　chafing　his　legs；　slapping　his

abdomen；　stretching　the　hip…cloth　out　with　their　fingers　so　that　he

might　breathe　more　easily。　　For　the　first　time　Genevieve　saw　the

stomach…breathing　of　a　man；　an　abdomen　that　rose　and　fell　far　more

with　every　breath　than　her　breast　rose　and　fell　after　she　had　run

for　a　car。　　The　pungency　of　ammonia　bit　her　nostrils；　wafted　to　her

from　the　soaked　sponge　wherefrom　he　breathed　the　fiery　fumes　that

cleared　his　brain。　　He　gargled　his　mouth　and　throat；　took　a　suck　at

a　divided　lemon；　and　all　the　while　the　towels　worked　like　mad；

driving　oxygen　into　his　lungs　to　purge　the　pounding　blood　and　send

it　back　revivified　for　the　struggle　yet　to　come。　　His　heated　body

was　sponged　with　water；　doused　with　it；　and　bottles　were　turned

mouth…downward　on　his　head。







CHAPTER　VI







The　gong　for　the　sixth　round　struck；　and　both　men　advanced　to　meet

each　other；　their　bodies　glistening　with　water。　　Ponta　rushed　two…

thirds　of　the　way　across　the　ring；　so　intent　was　he　on　getting　at

his　man　before　full　recovery　could　be　effected。　　But　Joe　had　lived

through。　　He　was　strong　again；　and　getting　stronger。　　He　blocked

several　vicious　blows　and　then　smashed　back；　sending　Ponta　reeling。

He　attempted　to　follow　up；　but　wisely　forbore　and　contented　himself

with　blocking　and　covering　up　in　the　whirlwind　his　blow　had　raised。



The　fight　was　as　it　had　been　at　the　beginningJoe　protecting；　Ponta

rushing。　　But　Ponta　was　never　at　ease。　　He　did　not　have　it　all　his

own　way。　　At　any　moment；　in　his　fiercest　onslaughts；　his　opponent

was　liable　to　lash　out　and　reach　him。　　Joe　saved　his　strength。　　He

struck　one　blow　to　Ponta's　ten；　but　his　one　blow　rarely　missed。

Ponta　overwhelmed　him　in　the　attacks；　yet　could　do　nothing　with　him；

while　Joe's　tiger…like　strokes；　always　imminent；　compelled　respect。

They　toned　Ponta's　ferocity。　　He　was　no　longer　able　to　go　in　with

the　complete　abandon　of　destructiveness　which　had　marked　his　earlier

efforts。



But　a　change　was　coming　over　the　fight。　　The　audience　was　quick　to

note　it；　and　even　Genevieve　saw　it　by　the　beginning　of　the　ninth

round。　　Joe　was　taking　the　offensive。　　In　the　clinches　it　was　he　who

brought　his　fist　down　on　the　small　of　the　back；　striking　the

terrible　kidney　blow。　　He　did　it　once；　in　each　clinch；　but　with　all

his　strength；　and　he　did　it　every　clinch。　　Then；　in　the　breakaways；

he　began　to　upper…cut　Ponta　on　the　stomach；　or　to　hook　his　jaw　or

strike　straight　out　upon　the　mouth。　　But　at　first　sign　of　a　coming

of　a　whirlwind；　Joe　would　dance　nimbly　away　and　cover　up。



Two　rounds　of　this　went　by；　and　three；　but　Ponta's　strength；　though

perceptibly　less；　did　not　diminish　rapidly。　　Joe's　task　was　to　wear

down　that　strength；　not　with　one　blow；　nor　ten；　but　with　blow　after

blow；　without　end；　until　that　enormous　strength　should　be　beaten

sheer　out　of　its　body。　　There　was　no　rest　for　the　man。　　Joe　followed

him　up；　step　by　step；　his　advancing　left　foot　making　an　audible　tap；

tap；　tap；　on　the　hard　canvas。　　Then　there　would　come　a　sudden　leap

in；　tiger…like；　a　blow　struck；　or　blows；　and　a　swift　leap　back；

whereupon　the　left　foot　would　take　up　again　its　tapping　advance。

When　Ponta　made　his　savage　rushes；　Joe　carefully　covered　up；　only　to

emerge；　his　left　foot　going　tap；　tap；　tap；　as　he　immediately

followed　up。



Ponta　was　slowly　weakening。　　To　the　crowd　the　end　was　a　foregone

conclusion。



〃Oh；　you；　Joe！〃　it　yelled　its　admiration　and　affection。



〃It's　a　shame　to　take　the　money！〃　it　mocked。　　〃Why　don't　you　eat　'm；

Ponta？　　Go　on　in　an'　eat　'm！〃



In　the　one…minute　intermissions　Ponta's　seconds　worked　over　him　as

they　had　not　worked　before。　　Their　calm　trust　in　his　tremendous

vitality　had　been　betrayed。　　Genevieve　watched　their　excited

efforts；　while　she　listened　to　the　white…faced　second　cautioning

Joe。



〃Take　your　time；〃　he　was　saying。　　〃You've　got　'm；　but　you　got　to

take　your　time。　　I've　seen　'm　fight。　　He's　got　a　punch　to　the　end　of

the　count。　　I've　seen　'm　knocked　out　and　clean　batty；　an'　go　on

punching　just　the　same。　　Mickey　Sullivan　had　'm　goin'。　　Puts　'm　to

the　mat　as　fast　as　he　crawls　up；　six　times；　an'　then　leaves　an

opening。　　Ponta　reaches　for　his　jaw；　an　two　minutes　afterward

Mickey's　openin'　his　eyes　an'　askin'　what's　doin'。　　So　you've　got　to

watch　'm。　　No　goin'　in　an'　absorbin'　one　of　them　lucky　punches；　now。

I　got　money　on　this　fight；　but　I　don't　call　it　mine　till　he's

counted　out。〃



Ponta　was　being　doused　with　water。　　As　the　gong　sounded；　one　of　his

seconds　inverted　a　water　bottle　on　his　head。　　He　started　toward　the

centre　of　the　ring；　and　the　second　followed　him　for　several　steps；

keeping　the　bottle　still　inverted。　　The　referee　shouted　at　him；　and

he　fled　the　ring；　dropping　the　bottle　as　he　fled。　　It　rolled　over

and　over；　the　water　gurgling　out　upon　the　canvas　till　the　referee；

with　a　quick　flirt　of　his　toe；　sent　the　bottle　rolling　through　the

ropes。



In　all　the　previous　rounds　Genevieve　had　not　seen　Joe's　fighting

face　which　had　been　prefigured　to　her　that　morning　in　the　department

store。　　Sometimes　his　face　had　been　quite　boyish；　other　times；　when

taking　his　fiercest　punishment；　it　had　been　bleak　and　gray；　and

still　later；　when　living　through　and　c