the game-第8章

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

still　later；　when　living　through　and　clutching　and　holding　on；　it

had　taken　on　a　wistful　expression。　　But　now；　out　of　danger　himself

and　as　he　forced　the　fight；　his　fighting　face　came　upon　him。　　She

saw　it　and　shuddered。　　It　removed　him　so　far　from　her。　　She　had

thought　she　knew　him；　all　of　him；　and　held　him　in　the　hollow　of　her

hand；　but　this　she　did　not　knowthis　face　of　steel；　this　mouth　of

steel；　these　eyes　of　steel　flashing　the　light　and　glitter　of　steel。

It　seemed　to　her　the　passionless　face　of　an　avenging　angel；　stamped

only　with　the　purpose　of　the　Lord。



Ponta　attempted　one　of　his　old…time　rushes；　but　was　stopped　on　the

mouth。　　Implacable；　insistent；　ever　menacing；　never　letting　him

rest；　Joe　followed　him　up。　　The　round；　the　thirteenth；　closed　with　a

rush；　in　Ponta's　corner。　　He　attempted　a　rally；　was　brought　to　his

knees；　took　the　nine　seconds'　count；　and　then　tried　to　clinch　into

safety；　only　to　receive　four　of　Joe's　terrible　stomach　punches；　so

that　with　the　gong　he　fell　back；　gasping；　into　the　arms　of　his

seconds。



Joe　ran　across　the　ring　to　his　own　corner。



〃Now　I'm　going　to　get　'm；〃　he　said　to　his　second。



〃You　sure　fixed　'm　that　time；〃　the　latter　answered。　　〃Nothin'　to

stop　you　now　but　a　lucky　punch。　　Watch　out　for　it。〃



Joe　leaned　forward；　feet　gathered　under　him　for　a　spring；　like　a

foot…racer　waiting　the　start。　　He　was　waiting　for　the　gong。　　When　it

sounded　he　shot　forward　and　across　the　ring；　catching　Ponta　in　the

midst　of　his　seconds　as　he　rose　from　his　stool。　　And　in　the　midst　of

his　seconds　he　went　down；　knocked　down　by　a　right…hand　blow。　　As　he

arose　from　the　confusion　of　buckets；　stools；　and　seconds；　Joe　put

him　down　again。　　And　yet　a　third　time　he　went　down　before　he　could

escape　from　his　own　corner。



Joe　had　at　last　become　the　whirlwind。　　Genevieve　remembered　his

〃just　watch；　you'll　know　when　I　go　after　him。〃　　The　house　knew　it；

too。　　It　was　on　its　feet；　every　voice　raised　in　a　fierce　yell。　　It

was　the　blood…cry　of　the　crowd；　and　it　sounded　to　her　like　what　she

imagined　must　be　the　howling　of　wolves。　　And　what　with　confidence　in

her　lover's　victory　she　found　room　in　her　heart　to　pity　Ponta。



In　vain　he　struggled　to　defend　himself；　to　block；　to　cover　up；　to

duck；　to　clinch　into　a　moment's　safety。　　That　moment　was　denied　him。

Knockdown　after　knockdown　was　his　portion。　　He　was　knocked　to　the

canvas　backwards；　and　sideways；　was　punched　in　the　clinches　and　in

the　break…awaysstiff；　jolty　blows　that　dazed　his　brain　and　drove

the　strength　from　his　muscles。　　He　was　knocked　into　the　corners　and

out　again；　against　the　ropes；　rebounding；　and　with　another　blow

against　the　ropes　once　more。　　He　fanned　the　air　with　his　arms；

showering　savage　blows　upon　emptiness。　　There　was　nothing　human　left

in　him。　　He　was　the　beast　incarnate；　roaring　and　raging　and　being

destroyed。　　He　was　smashed　down　to　his　knees；　but　refused　to　take

the　count；　staggering　to　his　feet　only　to　be　met　stiff…handed　on　the

mouth　and　sent　hurling　back　against　the　ropes。



In　sore　travail；　gasping；　reeling；　panting；　with　glazing　eyes　and

sobbing　breath；　grotesque　and　heroic；　fighting　to　the　last；　striving

to　get　at　his　antagonist；　he　surged　and　was　driven　about　the　ring。

And　in　that　moment　Joe's　foot　slipped　on　the　wet　canvas。　　Ponta's

swimming　eyes　saw　and　knew　the　chance。　　All　the　fleeing　strength　of

his　body　gathered　itself　together　for　the　lightning　lucky　punch。

Even　as　Joe　slipped　the　other　smote　him；　fairly　on　the　point　of　the

chin。　　He　went　over　backward。　　Genevieve　saw　his　muscles　relax　while

he　was　yet　in　the　air；　and　she　heard　the　thud　of　his　head　on　the

canvas。



The　noise　of　the　yelling　house　died　suddenly。　　The　referee；　stooping

over　the　inert　body；　was　counting　the　seconds。　　Ponta　tottered　and

fell　to　his　knees。　　He　struggled　to　his　feet；　swaying　back　and　forth

as　he　tried　to　sweep　the　audience　with　his　hatred。　　His　legs　were

trembling　and　bending　under　him；　he　was　choking　and　sobbing；

fighting　to　breathe。　　He　reeled　backward；　and　saved　himself　from

falling　by　a　blind　clutching　for　the　ropes。　　He　clung　there；

drooping　and　bending　and　giving　in　all　his　body；　his　head　upon　his

chest；　until　the　referee　counted　the　fatal　tenth　second　and　pointed

to　him　in　token　that　he　had　won。



He　received　no　applause；　and　he　squirmed　through　the　ropes；

snakelike；　into　the　arms　of　his　seconds；　who　helped　him　to　the　floor

and　supported　him　down　the　aisle　into　the　crowd。　　Joe　remained　where

he　had　fallen。　　His　seconds　carried　him　into　his　corner　and　placed

him　on　the　stool。　　Men　began　climbing　into　the　ring；　curious　to　see；

but　were　roughly　shoved　out　by　the　policemen；　who　were　already

there。



Genevieve　looked　on　from　her　peep…hole。　　She　was　not　greatly

perturbed。　　Her　lover　had　been　knocked　out。　　In　so　far　as

disappointment　was　his；　she　shared　it　with　him；　but　that　was　all。

She　even　felt　glad　in　a　way。　　The　Game　had　played　him　false；　and　he

was　more　surely　hers。　　She　had　heard　of　knockouts　from　him。　　It

often　took　men　some　time　to　recover　from　the　effects。　　It　was　not

till　she　heard　the　seconds　asking　for　the　doctor　that　she　felt

really　worried。



They　passed　his　limp　body　through　the　ropes　to　the　stage；　and　it

disappeared　beyond　the　limits　of　her　peep…hole。　　Then　the　door　of

her　dressing…room　was　thrust　open　and　a　number　of　men　came　in。　　They

were　carrying　Joe。　　He　was　laid　down　on　the　dusty　floor；　his　head

resting　on　the　knee　of　one　of　the　seconds。　　No　one　seemed　surprised

by　her　presence。　　She　came　over　and　knelt　beside　him。　　His　eyes　were

closed；　his　lips　slightly　parted。　　His　wet　hair　was　plastered　in

straight　locks　about　his　face。　　She　lifted　one　of　his　hands。　　It　was

very　heavy；　and　the　lifelessness　of　it　shocked　her。　　She　looked

suddenly　at　the　faces　of　the　seconds　and　of　the　men　about　her。　　They

seemed　frightened；　all　save　one；　and　he　was　cursing；　in　a　low　voice；

horribly。　　She　looked　up　and　saw　Silverstein　standing　beside　her。

He；　too；　seemed　frightened。　　He　rested　a　kindly　hand　on　her

shoulder；　tightening　the　fingers　with　a　sympathetic　pressure。



This　sympathy　frightened　her。　　She　began　to　feel　dazed。　　There　was　a

bustle　as　somebody　entered　the　room。　　The　person　came　forward；

proclaiming　irritably：　　〃Get　out！　　Get　out！　　You've　got　to　clear　the

room！〃



A　number　of　men　silently　obeyed。



〃Who　are　you？〃　he　abruptly　demanded　of　Genevieve。　　〃A　girl；　as　I'm

alive！〃



〃That's　all　right；　she's　his　girl；〃　spoke　up　a　young　fellow　she

recognized　as　her　guide。



〃And　you？〃　the　other　man　blurted　explosively　at　Silverstein。



〃I'm　vit　her；〃　he　answered　truculently。



〃She　works　for　him；〃　explained　the　young　fellow。　　〃It's　all　right；　I

tell　you。〃



The　newcomer　grunted　and　knelt　down。　　He　passed　a　hand　over　the　damp

head；　grunted　again；　and　arose　to　his　feet。



〃This　is　no　case　for　me；〃　he　said。　　〃Send　for　the　ambulance。〃



Then　the　thing　became　a　dream　to　Genevieve。　　Maybe　she　had　fainted；

she　did　not　know；　but　for　what　other　reason　should　Silverstein　have

his　arm　around　her　supporting　her？　　All　the　faces　seemed　blurred　and

unreal。　　Fragments　of　a　discussion　came　to　her　ears。　　The　young

fellow　who　had　been　her　guide　was　saying　something　about　reporters。

〃You　vill　get　your　name　in　der　papers；〃　she　could　hear　Silverstein

saying　to　her；　as　from　a　great　distance；　and　she　knew　she　was

shaking　her　head　in　refusal。



There　was　an　eruption　of　new　faces；　and　she　saw　Joe　carried　out　on　a

canvas　stretcher。　　Silverstein　was　buttoning　the　long　overcoat　and

drawing　the　collar　about　her　face。　　She　felt　the　night　air　on　her

cheek；　and　looking　up　saw　the　clear；　cold　stars。　　She　jammed　into　a

seat。　　Silverstein　was　beside　her。　　Joe　was　there；　too；　still　on　his

stretcher；　with　blankets　over　his　naked　body；　and　there　was　a　man　in

blue　uniform　who　spoke　kindly　to　her；　though　she　did　not　know　what

he　said。　　Horses'　hoofs　were　clattering；　and　she　was　lurching

somewhere　through　the　night。



Next；　light　and　voices；　and　a　smell　of　iodoform。　　This　must　be　the

receiving　hospital；　she　thought；　this　the　operating　table；　those　the

doctors。　　They　were　examining　Joe。　　One　of　them；　a　dark…eyed；　dark…

bearded；　foreign…looking　man；　rose　up　from　bending　over　the　table。



〃Never　saw　anything　like　it；〃　he　was　saying　to　another　man。　　〃The

whole　back　of　the　skull。〃



Her　lips　were　hot　and　dry；　and　there　was　an　intolerable　ache　in　her

throat。　　But　why　didn't　she　cry？　　She　ought　to　cry；　she　felt　it

incumbent　upon　her。　　There　was　Lottie　（there　had　been　another　change

in　the　dream）；　across　the　little　narrow　cot　from　her；　and　she　was

crying。　　Somebody　was　saying　something　about　the　coma　of　death。　　It

was　not　the　foreign…looking　doctor；　but　somebody　else。　　It　did　not

matter　who　it　was。　　What　time　was　it？　　As　if　in　answer；　she　saw　the

faint　white　light　of　dawn　on　the　windows。



〃I　was　going　to　be　married　to…day；〃　she　said　to　Lottie。



And　from　across　the　cot　his　sister　wailed；　〃Don't；　don't！〃　and；

covering　her　face；　sobbed　afresh。



This；　then；　was　the　end　of　it　allof　the　carpets；　and　furniture；

and　the　little　rented　house；　of　the　meetings　and　walking　out；　the

thrilling　nights　of　starshine；　the　deliciousness　of　surrender；　the

loving　and　the　being　loved。　　She　was　stunned　by　the　awful　facts　of

this　Game　she　did　not　understandthe　grip　it　laid　on　men's　souls；

its　irony　and　faithlessness；　its　risks　and　hazards　and　fierce

insurgences　of　the　blood；　making　woman　pitiful；　not　the　be…all　and

end…all　of　man；　but　his　toy　and　his　pastime；　to　woman　his　mothering

and　caretaking；　his　moods　and　his　moments；　but　to　the　Game　his　days

and　nights　of　striving；　the　tribute　of　his　head　and　hand；　his　most

patient　toil　and　wildest　effort；　all　the　strain　and　the　stress　of

his　beingto　the　Game；　his　heart's　desire。



Silverstein　was　helping　her　to　her　feet。　　She　obeyed　blindly；　the

daze　of　the　dream　still　on　her。　　His　hand　grasped　her　arm　and　he　was

turning　her　toward　the　door。



〃Oh；　why　don't　you　kiss　him？〃　Lottie　cried　out；　her　dark　eyes

mournful　and　passionate。



Genevieve　stooped　obediently　over　the　quiet　clay　and　pressed　her

lips　to　the　lips　yet　warm。　　The　door　opened　and　she　passed　into

another　room。　　There　stood　Mrs。　Silverstein；　with　angry　eyes　that

snapped　vindictively　at　sight　of　her　boy's　clothes。



Silverstein　looked　beseechingly　at　his　spouse；　but　she　burst　forth

savagely：…



〃Vot　did　I　tell　you；　eh？　　Vot　did　I　tell　you？　　You　vood　haf　a

bruiser　for　your　steady！　　An'　now　your　name　vill　be　in　all　der

papers！　　At　a　prize　fightvit　boy's　clothes　on！　　You　liddle

strumpet！　　You　hussy！　　You〃



But　a　flood　of　tears　welled　into　her　eyes　and　voice；　and　with　her

fat　arms　outstretched；　ungainly；　ludicrous；　holy　with　motherhood；

she　tottered　over　to　the　quiet　girl　and　folded　her　to　her　breast。