THE UNKNOWN.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2675, 21 July 1913, Page 2

THE UNKNOWN.

(By Leo Oran©.)

A stoop-shouldered., narrow-chested j doctor put the fear into him, and he ' quit the game;—quit it just when Ranahan had completed the articles for a match with Tom O’Rell over in Lonrdon. And that earned him his title. The quitter! How long a man has to work for a good name, and how easy comes a bad one! He could not go about telling even-one it was because of the old woman. The taunt followed him into the shops and out on the highway and home to bed. Even the girls looked at him doubtfully, for all that he was a handsome lad. “I don’t say that you wouldn’t last a millfor you might, and then, too, you might not,” had said the doctor. “ Tis all guesswork. No man may say just when it is likely to happen, if ii is to happen. But go slow, like you ought to do your courtin’, for a compensating hypertrophy is as varying a~ any woman.” “An’ I have nothin’ but mo pains ’’ replied Larry Doyle. “Just when I’m to have a go that’ll fetch a decent purse, you come to overhear my chest If yon hadn’t told the old woman, I’ 1 go through with it, so I would.” “Bo off with ve.” said the doctor.

He went away in no peaceful frame of mind. Few men are game again- 1 worry. And when one of the boys siineed the new title in his hearing the barb of it sunk into his heart and hi' went heme breeding. “The quitter,” he growled to his mother. “How would yell like someone calling yeh that?” Sho put her arms about him. “Ah, sure T know you’re not.” And when she petted him, he laughed: hut he leaped hack into his meed again, ,c the Irish do. and he roared out: ‘Til not stand it from thorn. ’Tis their slurs I’ll get all mo life long. _ So I’m off across the water to bo rid of them.” She said nothing; hut soon he heard a whimper. “’What are ye crying for?” he askeu roughly, “The thought of ye leaving me.” “An’ who sa ; d anvthing about loading yeh? Sure! you’re goin’ along. You’ll see the Stumbles, an’ the O’Rourkes, an’ Bridget Nolan: tho whole lot of them that have gone over an’ are glad of it, too.” So after many and ;, stream full of tears, he had his wav , and the green brooding seas rolled between him and the green parish hills. Tt was rough work in the now world, but Larry Doyle had a fine sot of muscles and he wasn’t afraid to soil his hands. But gradualv his vision broke noon reality: for if the now land paid liberally it demanded a liberal return for tbof»e things bv which a man rnn«t live. Other men drifted westward, and thev wrote of bettor times: so the wot called to him with its promises. Once a man begins wandering, there is ever a westward lure. Since the beg’ lining of time tbe restless oms have wandered out of the east and have drifted west. So his people had come into Ireland, though Larry Doyle cmild not have told of it: and now that he had taken up the march, each sunset spoke of its to-morrow land.

From one job to another he wont — PiOslrarg and the iron mills, then off with a crew of builders to Chicago next mending the radroads that others might ride into Denver. The old woman went with him, patiently wondering if he would ever stop. Sometimes he would fmd her crying, which did not help lift his burden. Tim Inn 1 across the sens is net soon forgot. There was the little church on the blllsde and just outside K tucked away undet the low stone wall, was n bit of Husacred ground : and though the old woman might close her eyes and see the place so clearly that every blade of grass could be numbered, it was not the same as being there to oray cvei the turf. So Lnrry would come upon her weeping. Sure, he thought, it would never do to have her sleet) among strangers, and Patrick sleeping so far away.

Then hard time** and lack of work. Things looked black for all men. whether strong and willing or not. Money was hard to get, and there were five men clamoring for every job. Ho decided to move west a train, to leave her u r ti Ihe bad located something, and he told her he would write and send money. “And if I enf enough. God• willing,' lie said, “we’ll go the long wav home attain.” There wa« no keeping the brave lad, so she smbed through her tears, and kissed him. Then she waited am' praved and wondered if the farthest west would ever give him hack.

Dur'nrr five weeks Larrv wandered. hither and yon. nn and down with K's face in the west ab'rvs. earntprr Tifle. lead'"" the roughest sort of life burned all over, and often with a ennwinT i TI his stomach. Bnt this vers batterincr kcW him as hard as nails and when be bad a job be managed o sin port of the ear i T, t-o a letter. There was better to he bad farther on. always farther on. th's time i” Golden, where tbev dim it nut r f tbe earth so '•<’ plucked a fresh sVcd of courage fro" that mysterious store which tbe T v, sh seldom exhaust, and tramped and stole bis wav onward. Cramped and stiff, wenrv m ever inmt. !m drnnned evening fro™ ft ■ bumper of a freight and saw tbrnimb the rirVT semi dark tbe lights of (d ldf-r> Ife rtrv»«os»-ed p siende dollar ami a tremendous Hr ,rr er. It was tm to him to fmd as be had to snv. “pronto.” for tbe mas' ont-'mKtie calenl°t : on proved that the old woman wo’Td need monev with’’) tw e weeks He slipped across the greasy steaming yards and tried to remove tbe Time from bim at a watcrtroimb. Then be strolled down tiie main street.

He mw that it was a reckless place where if a man stood nn he must make l good. where brave men wore carefu 1 and cowards dumb. There wai plenty pf Hf ' about him the most '.of it coneerTiefl 'vit.b drink P" and jramincr. » Those who had labored ad the dav oarno to be amused, to risk good look over the cards and wheels, or to force bad luck to a worse issue. Rut be bad seen such towns before and knew that a smile and reach’ wit were finer assets than an arsenal. All he looked for was a chance. He entered the place that seemed to he doing the heaviest business, meaning to use his : ears first and his wit afterwards, and he found that his eyes were ahead of both. | Pasted against a rack of bottleboxes was a lurid handbill that had drawn the attention of half a dozen j idlers. Larry raised himself on tip- i too to read over their shoulders HAYWARD’S CASINO. Saturday Night—Nine O’clock. | BIG FIGHT. Twenty Rounds to a Decision. The Famous Oonemara Kid vs. Thompson’s “Unknown.” Tickets at the Bar. Admission, Five Dollars. Beneath this announcement, crudely ; scrawled in pencil, the letters rambling off the poster on to the wood of the boxes. Larry saw — “Odds on Kid, 3 to 1; See Thompson,” [

Unconsciously Larry had prodded the man immediately before him, and when the fellow turned, asked innocently : “Who’s Thompson?” Tlie man glanced him up and down, a bit of wonderment in his expression, and then, after evident consideration, pointed to the big room--beyond the bar, where dozens of men crowded the gaming tables, and from which came the clicking of wheels, the stirring of feet upon sand, and the gruff murmuring of many voices. “Guess you’ll find him over there, Eardner, playing faro, like as not. All e won’t lose on his bloomin’ unknown, he’ll drop into the bank aforeiiand, ’cause that’s Thompson’s way. Did you think of lavin’ a bet?” Larry grinned. “Who’s the ‘unknown?’” he asked.

The man’s expression changed swiftly to a mild amazement, coupled with some little irritation. He spat deliberately, as if he would thus delay an emotional outburst. “Friend,” lie answered, slowly, “If I could cell you. he wouldn’t be the unknown, would ho be? ’Pears to me you’re some stranger yourself.” “Just arrived,” said Larry, laughing. “Well. Say! ” the man hesitated, and muttered to himself. “Say! ”

“Don’t worry,” exclaimed Larry, anticipating his thought, "I’m a plain Jonah, an’ it ’twas me the odds would b© 10 to I, wiJi no takers.” He walked off a few steps, stopped suddenly as if startled by something, and then went straight on to the > aro table, to join the line of watchers and to glance keenly a: the several players. He was wondering which was Thompson. when a thick-set fellow, who had just lost heavily ou tho queen, looked around as if annoyed. The man hesitated in the act of placing another bet ; tho voice of the dealer drawled, and the card was turned. “Parduer,” said the doub:fui player in a lone of gruff apology, picking Larry from the line, “iou ain L got a thing ag’iu me, 1 know; an do you mind moving to another table? “Anythin’ to please yeh, provulm 1 know what I’ve done.” grinned Larry. “No offence; but luck’s choppy tonight. an’ 1 never knew a green tie to improve it for me. Larry caught his meaning. He locked down at tho soiled string tout once had been a scarf, and with which he had gain shed himself once upon a time with pride. IJ o knew something UI gamblers' superstitions.

Larry wandered about the large room and finally back to the poster. Standing before "it, he reviewed ins old connection with the game. Hut tor that narrow-chested doctor, that ho might have broken over his knee, peliiaps ho would be holding place with the best of them —champion ot England and his name in bigger type than the Prime Minister. Such a little thing to lling one down in this rag end of creation to envy a man who had never iieard of Conemara, and without, the hit of ticket money to see the beggar exhibit his ignorance m the art. A blundering little ratchet msiue him had caused all the trouble —a compounding “hydraulic” something oi other, which ho would never had known he possessed it the siuopshouldtred doctor had minded his own affairs. Tough luck! then lie felt a hand on his arm and saw the gambler who had made the strange request. “It’s time for that treat, young teller.” ~, . , “I’m more in line for a letup said Larry. “Done! You changed my luck tonight. Don’t mind what 1 said. All card men have their ILtlo notions. With me it’s green ties or funerals. A green tie cost me a thousand once, and when thev planted One Rye Smith, down in Eldorado, why that night t thought they’d never stop takin my money away. I felt you behind me, but when you vamoosed so decent, 1 won a hundred on the next turn.” Just then a man hurried up to them, calling. , ‘•Say, Thompson! three to uhe against the unknown in hundreds.’ 1 “No bets to-night,’ said Larry s acquaintance, glancing at the tie. “So you’re the lad who's running the fight ” Larry queried when they wore in the street. “Only ono end of it.” “I used to be in the game, ’ Lurry ventured. “But that was long ago.”

Tho gambler hastily stepped back, and sized Larry up and down, height, weight, and general carriage. “Never would have thought it,” be declared. “What do you scale!'” “Hundred eighty-five.” “And you used to fight —where?’ “Oil! that was in tho Old Coun.ry; Dublin way an’ all around.” “Humph ” commented tho other, turning into an eating-house. He said no more than this until the conclusion of their little least, when he asked as if there had been no break in .he conversation: “Why did you quit it?” “Theie. wu.s the old womanLarry would not admit a disability. “Know ainbidy in this town'” “I dropped off a freight to-night.’ said Larry, eyeing him closely. Thompson had pushed away from the tame and sat occupied with a toothpick and Lis thoughts. “You scorn a nice sort of tulLr,” he concluded aloud, “wish 1 knew you better. There’s lots ol things wo might go into.” Larry believed he understood the situ tion. lit brought out a soiled leather wallet, from which he- extracted, u i equally stained scrap of newspaper. He pushed this across tho board. “You’re treed with tho bets, an’ your man has welched,” he declared with a sober conviction. “That’is me ” stabbing a thick finger down on the clipping. “You’ll find from it that I was game all through, an’ I’d tight the champion hisself to-morrow mghl for real money. Also, triend, I’m the most unknown lad in these parts. Do we go into things together, mo furnishin’ the mill?” Thompson studied the scrap of old news, and then said grimly “You’re on; but no drinkin’ an’ blowing the game, you understand? You’ll stick close to me. I’ve a place out of town a ways, an’ to-morrow I’ll see you work out. An’ mind you, Larry Doyle, I’ve a lingo bunch of coin on this fight, an’ if you throw it, I’ll kill you.” The grim note of his threat could not be misunderstood. Larry turned aside with a laugh. “ ’Tis a whirl between us,” he said. “For in that case 1 could do no more than ha’nt yeh.” Ho went homo with Thompson and turned into a bed for the first time in weeks.

Golden was one of those towns having the railroad on its front street and the lava, hills at its rear doors. It was a mushroom growth, and resembled nothing so much in character as a stevedore who has found a fortune. Discovery of mineral wealth had brought adventurers. Monopoly had garnered perhaps the richest field, but new prospectors there were in plenty and more acoming; and these lured traders and supply companies, and a horde of life’s gamesters, tapmen, jugglersand gladiators like the Conemara Kid. In such a community gossip often divides the town. It may concern a now strike or the hope of one. a local scandal or the lack or it; hut whatever the question, supporters and dissenters will be found, and there will be broken i

heads and the spilling of much liquor holme the virility ol one discussion weakens and a fresh subject appears. In Golden the scheduled fight was the topic, and several unscheduled ones had occurred. The fact that Thompson had refused to cover Foster’s good money caused a uorrent of talk. The real sports and the woiiikLbo sports and the men compelled to be sports that they might not die of ennui, gathered in serious consultation. It was plain that something had affected the betting man’s nerve. Perhaps the “unknown” had moulted a white feather, or had broken a leg, or permitted himself to he nabbed by a sheriff, or done some other equally inhuman and cowardly thing. More than one despaired of ever seeing a fight; and they grew morbid, and then maudlin, and went into their midnight cups because ‘Tt was just their luck, anyhow.” The odds increased, and men who had shown no whimpering sign of a bet before, now flourished their wealth beneath Thompson’s very nose and clamored to see the color of his money.

Thompson remained bluffed, until he had seen Larry Doyle stripped of his shirt and working out. The sifjht of a few brisk rounds between the find and a husky second-rater, who appeared for training service, raised Thompson’s nerve to its normal condition. The od Is were five co one when he awoke from the seeming lethargy to suddenly accept a bet. This wonderful recovery discouraged the sporting community. Tt began to wonder if the astute Mr Thompson had not cooked up something.

Thompson’s place, in which he had installed Larry, was 20 miles from Golden, located on the mountain side. Tho building bad once served as a b .nk-house for a lumber crew; but lumber bad waned before tho yellow metal, and the camp was forgotten. The town with its saloons and tho railroad, both temptations, were far enough off to guarantee that his secret would no; leak out, that Larry would m t carouse, if such bad been lus habit, and that lie would bo prevented from sneaking off should nerve forsake him.

T empson’s few visits wore made skii- : fully, am! several of the interested ones in Golden, who undertook to follow ! him, firmly believed the gambler to have gone mad, so deviously had lie wandered in the hills, i The days passed quickly, and on the j Saturday afternoon of the fight’s date, i ’! !i “iijxson appeared at the camp, as ' confident as one could be who had : stale d all on a strange venture. ; “How do you fecit” he asked o: , Lurry when they wore alone, i “As lit as a fiddle at a dance,’ - said ' the cheerful one. “But chore's souic- ; thing on me mind.” j “Get it off immediately,” advised ' Thompson, growing worried in an instant. “Let mu handle your troubles, > an' save your spleen lor that Cone- . mara joker.” “Well,’ continued Larry. “What do I ,et if i win this light ?” “IT! come down handsome on you a cool thousand you get. an’ wolo ’iii ’ replied Thompson, with a sigh of relief. He smiled for the first time in three days. “If that’s your trouble 1 Far no more. "Lis not the winning ■ t,nil's hollaring me, lint the thought of starting life over again. You lose an' 1 ’ll have to go back to the cards, which is a dangerous game when a man can’t afford to deal straight.” “I'm glad you mention losing.” went on lurry, h.s lace sobering. “Else in mu own coiitidoncp I might have over--I,okod it. In chat extreme inksiortui.e, where do 1 come inf” “ ’Twottld hardly bo fair to charge y< u baaid an’ lodging,” mused Thomp-:-un. “1 couldn’t do it. No—it you lose, we’ll both be on the same level, an’ there’s nothin’ to prevent the both of us going out on the same brake-beam,” “Was it ever suggested to yeh, Mr Thompson, that 1 could do belter by throwin’ tho mill. Oh! don’t get, excited Thompson had jumped to his ieet, exclaiming: “Soniobodv’a boon out hero, bribin’

“Xot a soul. Sit down. i don’t wan; much for mo pains, hut 1 do want u hundred, even it' he drops me. Siippo-o 1 was getting the worst or it, what’s to hinder mo tippin’ the* Conemara Kid that I’<l consider a hundred i’or losing quick;' Would 1 get it y ’Tis an easy answer. An’ this trouble you may avoid, Mr Thompson, by S' aling that same amount in the following letter which 1 hand y< hj.” He placed an cnvi lope on the table. “ ’1 is only a letter to the old woman, telHn’ her of the bitter prospects in store, perhaps an’ with never a word ef die game I’m following. A man can’t figure to a cent what’ll happen in a mill, so if i ask you to put up a hundred now.in tho letter, to he mailed with tho register mark on top of it. If 1 win tin' light, you can slip eight iniiit!ied more in this one ” He produced u second envelope. "That makes nino hundred.,” said . hompsou grimly. "The oihl hundred to come across to me. ’Tis tho old woman I’m thinking of, -Mr Thompson, so please yeh. An’ to show that I’m square I’ll trust yeh 10 mail the big one afterward, lor no tick will ever come to the lad who cheats mo old mother. 1 quit the ring for her, and’ to it I’m going again for tho same reason; and By Heavens! I’d travel back from Better’s Field to make your life pleasant after dark, if pi sign you give of forgettin’.” ■ Don't talk of such things,” snarled Thompson, catching thu envelope. ‘ Funerals give mo a chill. I teal you be ( re of that failing.” Thompson draw ou: his wallet, counted a hundred dollars and staled them in tho letter. ‘‘Tho first time* I ever paid a man in advance for losing,” ho said. Thompson placed tho second envelope in hi‘i wallet. ,( \V» start for town at five o’clock,” he announced briefly, “and at nine we’ll surprise thorn, if wo do no more.” A spring-wagon wended its way down tno mountain road chat evening. And Larry Doylo, who sat with tho driver, env. loped himself in a gay mood, which is the Irish way of masking trouble when no one of great consequence looks so, It was quiet in the hills, and a sweet breath of summer wind stirred through the stunted pines and came laden with western fragrance. Ho t: ought of another quiet evening, when ho had gone homo across the parish hills, the weight of defeat pressing him, a man beaten by a, doctor’s fist, just when he should have boon smarting across the Irish Sea to light Tom O’Llell in London. That had seemed a prcat sorrow, for the pride of youth had been wounded, and tho pain had gone deep down, to tire heart. A vast journey to bo missing, that march on t’;o big eity and his future fame. But now a higher resolution held him to the task. Tho old woman! What a fine thing it would bo to send her back borne, to the parish hills, and tho hawthorn hedges, and the bit of turf tucked under the wall. Then the gray dusk shut down, and tire night followed it, and when tho stars burned overhead tho wagon’s wheels rattled into Golden. A hundred cries announced their coming. Thompson and his man were on the s' ore; there would be a fight after all; win or loso, Golden was satisfied. The lights after tho dark, tho roar of many voices after silence, and the jostling throng, were confusing. A mob clamored for admission into Hayward’s Casino. And tho desire of

these men was to see him beaten. A sensation of suffocation seized Larry Doylo as lie left the wagon.' He was conscious of being thrust through a wall of men. He clung to Thompson,, who led oho way, bantering with ana battering at the crowd, and he was glad that the faithful second-rater covered his back. It was a bewildering few minutes, something like going to execution, for -each man of the crowd stared at him and had something unpleasant to say concerning his finish. They escaped, the tumult and the pressure of tho crowd, the three of them breathing easier when in the runway leading under the arena, lint this respite, was for a minute only. They came to the ringside, into the light again and the critical gaze of spectators. Those men outside had clamored with reason, for they would never force an entrance. Hayward's Casino was built of wood and expansion was not in it. From the edge of the ring to the walls were ranked the men of Golden. From the lumber bills and the cattle camps and far outlying mines, they had come; by railroad, on foot and via bronco, from 30 miles around, to sec the ‘‘unknown” stand before the Conemara Kid. When he was given a hand into the ring, Larry heard their growling comment. Ho threw aside the greatcoat Thompson had furnished, and a deeper growl followed. He was in fighting trim, wearing trunks of green and the soft black shoes of a fighting man. The hand of the second-rater pressed him down into a chair, and he went most willingly, as if the smoky lights and the humming voices had put a spell over him; and all he could dunk of m this moment preceding battle was a little song his mother had crooned over so long ago: “Where e’er I stray, my heart is back in Erin, And the call I’m heartin’ in the old old way.” That was the call he heard too. and where the heart of him was. Then someone else in lighting trim climbed into the ring. The referee and seconds came toward him. and lie was pushed forward to meet them by his man. The other chap was a star ly looking fellow, as nude as himself, and before the introduction began, Larry heard him say—- “ Hello! so it’s you I’m to fight, eh: —the quitter!” And dial- was the Conemara Kid. Larry’s heart gave a great Lhn b. Things were now clear, aeid-etehe 1, Inn ing hard and bitter lines. He ti rgot Golden and its mob. In that instant he reverted to the old Larry Doyle, just down with Ranaban, I is hacker, and -Marty Kogan and tlie others, to light before the first club of Dublin. This was to be his opp; rt unity. After this, if he won, lie would have a match with Tom O’Kell of London. Nothing had been printi .1 of hint as yet: on the morrow tie would see an account of the mill and cut his name from the fresh iniyt Ilowed page. Thg hell sounded as tiie crash of a grand gong. He sprang from his chair, ami his first mad leap carried him to the ring's centre. No one dared call him a quitter. His first blow spun the Conemara Kid upon Ins heels and dropped him. ft was a whirl of a beginning. Tiie crowd was stirred by it. “Just wait a bit,” cautioned some. “The Kid’ll take the steam out of him —Just wait ” Hut something haur told Larry Doyle that there must ho no waiting m this fight. That first smashing blow had the life of him behind it. The quick fury of the lire once gone, only ash would he leit. As a dread tolling, bo heard tho referee counting. The Kid struggled up at the call of “wight, 1 atm di sperately met him 1 hey swayed in and out of a clinch, grappling, sinking. A short stabbing blow caught t.arry over the heart ami ho winced; then the weight of him and a nnh threw the other against the ting's taut ropes. A .swift powerful swing struck die Kid’s chin fairly as lu rebouißioa —he stopped as if fie had met a wall—he sullied weakly to the Hour again. The reft fee bent down, but the Conemara Kid made no effort to rise. Lurry Doyle turned away to his corner.

Slowly tiio mult kudo inside Hie building began to realise whiil had oeeurnd. The light—the big ligiiL —was over, done with, lini-hcd. Two hj-icJ minutes had siiliiced tor it. A wi;d howl of disappointment went up. Was it for tills iliac they had tramped and hurried 3u milts!' Tn< mp.son ami tho .second-rater were busy unlacing Larry's gloves. They switched the big coat over his hare shoulders; but as they led him away an expression of bewilderment came to his lace. He caught Thompson's arm and gripped it savagely “WoTl go mail that second Lt or.' ho uttered thickly. “What!” laughed tho gambler, without turning, “(.'barge a thousand tor that little millg You don’t mean 1:1” The pressure on his arm pained him. He swung round impatiently “What’s tho matter!'” Thompson paused. Ho looked into wildly dilated eyes, .saw a drooping lip. Then [lie shoulders, the big knotty shoulders of Larry Doyle wrenched upward and the great coat slipped down. His lips tightened spasmodically. The second caught him as lie sway oil over. ‘Tip's fainted,” said Thompson, catching up a water-bottle. They knelt beside him for a minute. “He’s dead!” said the second. Around the ring crowded the embittered mob, voicing its disgust as the Coneinara. Kid staggered out. Then a hush fell. Something had gone wrong in that other corner of the ring—the victor's corner—where a man lay on tho floor. When Thompson opened tho big wallet that evening, and started to cheek • off his bets, he stopped momentarily over an envelope. A shrew expression showed on his gambler’s facto He wavered. The wallet was stuffed all out of proportion; but that man, stretched out in tho room behind Hayward’s bar-—chat ‘‘unknown” who had dropped from a freight, what use could he have for money? Ills lingers trembled as he started to tear the paper, Then suddenly. Ids lingers appeared to grow nerveless and limp; he stared about him furtively, his face becoming as white as chalk; and his lips babbled as if in answer to some imperative demand — ‘Til mail ’em—mi ail ’em to-night, ad righc—•] was only fooling, anyway--! was only fooling!” And so tho old woman want home.