cwilleford.cockfighter-第38部分

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　　〃I　saw　on　the　blackboard　out　there〃…his　father　made　a　sweeping　gesture　with　his　malodorous　briar　pipe…　〃that　you　got　a　4：02　lookin'　for　a　fight。　If　you　don't　mind　givin'　me　an　ounce；　I　got　a　4：03　out　to　my　place　that　can　take　him。〃
　　〃He's　my　cock；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　Tom　broke　in。　〃Little　Joe。　You　ever　hear　of　him？〃
　　〃Mr。　Mansfield　hasn't　fought　in　this　neck　of　the　woods　for　some　years；　Tom；〃　Vern　answered　for　me。　〃I　doubt　if　he　has。〃
　　〃Little　Joe's　a　six…time　winner；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　the　old　man　continued；　〃but　I've　never　fought　him　here　in　Vern's　pit。　He's　crowd　shy　and　can't　be　conditioned　to　people　or　noise。　But　if　you　want　to　drive　on　out　to　my　farm；　maybe　we　could　have　us　a　little　private　hack。〃
　　I　nodded　sympathetically。　Often　a　gamecock　is　crowd　shy。　But　I　wasn't　too　anxious　to　pit　Icky　against　a　six…time　winner。
　　〃I'll　tell　you　what；〃　Milam　Peeples　said　generously；　〃I'll　give　you　two…to…one　odds；　and　you　can　name　the　amount。　After　all；　you　got　to　fight　at　my　place　instead　of　here；　and　I　want　to　be　fair。〃
　　I　agreed；　holding　up　five　fingers。
　　〃Nope；〃　Milam　Peeples　shook　his　head。　〃I　ain't　fightin'　Little　Joe　for　no　fifty　dollars。　Ain't　worth　the　risk。〃
　　I　had　meant　five　hundred　dollars。　I　grinned　and　opened　and　closed　my　fist　five　times；　as　rapidly　as　I　could。
　　〃Five　hundred　dollars？〃　Mr。　Peeples　took　the　pipe　out　of　his　mouth。
　　When　I　nodded；　he　hesitated。
　　〃Now　that's　getting　mighty　steep。　If　I　lose；　you　win　yourself　a　thousand　dollars。〃
　　〃You　offered　Frank　two　to　one；〃　Vern　Packard　reminded　the　old　man。
　　〃Little　Joe　can　take　him；　Daddy！〃　Tom　said　eagerly。
　　〃All　right。〃　Peeples　agreed　to　the　bet　and　we　shook　hands。　〃When　you're　ready　to　go　you　can　follow　us　on　out　in　your　car。〃
　　〃Why　don't　you　load　Mr。　Mansfield's　coops　in　his　station　wagon；　Tom；〃　Vern　suggested。　〃And　I'll　take　him　up　to　the　house　to　get　his　suitcase。〃
　　〃Yes；　sir；〃　Tom　said。
　　As　soon　as　Vern　and　I　entered　the　back　door　of　his　house　into　the　kitchen；　he　dropped　into　a　chair　beside　the　table　where　we　had　eaten　breakfast。　There　was　an　amused　smile　on　his　friendly；　open　face。　Vern　was　a　short　wiry　little　man　with　a　sparse　gray　moustache；　and　he　had　been　a　good　host。
　　〃Just　a　second；　Frank；〃　Vem's　voice　stopped　me　as　I　started　for　the　bedroom。　〃It's　a　trick。　Old　Man　Peeples　has　never　heard　of　you；　Frank；　and　he's　taken　you　for　a　sucker。　I've　seen　him　take　itinerant　cockers　before；　and　I've　never　said　anything。　Why　not？　Peeples　is　a　local　cocker；　and　most　of　the　drifters　who　fight　here　don't　e　back　anyway。　But　I　don't　feel　that　way　about　you。　Because　the　local　gamblers　didn't　know　your　reputation　I　won　six　hundred　bucks　today　on　your　hacks。〃　Vern　laughed　with　genuine　amusement。
　　〃You　wouldn't　fight　the　old　man　anyway；　once　you　saw　his　setup。　He's　got　a　square　chunk　of　waxed　linoleum　in　his　barn　for　the　floor　of　his　cockpit。　And　that　cock　of　his　hasn't　won　six　fights；　he's　won　at　least　eighteen　fights！　He　rubs　rosin　on　Little　Joe's　feet；　and　on　that　slick　waxed　floor　the　opposing　cock　doesn't　have　a　chance。　But　if　you　really　think　your　cock　can　take　him；　now　that　you　know　their　game；　I'll　give　you　a　chunk　of　rosin。　That　way；　you'll　both　start　even。〃
　　I　got　my　suitcase　out　of　the　bedroom。　Vern　rummaged　through　the　drawers　of　the　sideboard。
　　〃Here；〃　he　handed　me　an　amber　chunk　of　rosin　the　size　of　a　dime…store　eraser。　〃You　don't　need　very　much；　Frank。　But　don't　fight　him　on　that　waxed　linoleum　unless　you　use　it。　If　you　want　my　advice；　you're　a　damned　fool　to　fight　him　at　all！〃
　　I　winked；　shook　hands　with　Vern　and　crossed　the　yard　toward　the　station　wagon。　These　two　peckerwoods　had　a　lesson　ing；　and　I　had　made　up　my　mind　to　teach　it　to　them。　Icky　was　in　peak　condition；　as　sharp　as　a　needle。　They　would　be　counting　on　their　trick　to　win。　With　the　rosin　safe　in　my　pocket；　the　odds　were　in　my　favor。　I　couldn't　believe　that　Little　Joe；　despite　his　eighteen　wins；　was　in　proper　condition　to　beat　Icky　in　an　even　fight。
　　I　put　my　suitcase　in　the　back；　checked　Tom's　loading　of　my　coops；　climbed　into　the　front　seat；　and　honked　my　horn　to　let　Peeples　know　that　I　was　ready　to　go。　I　followed　his　vintage　black　car　out　of　the　parking　lot。　The　Peeples　farm　was　some　six　miles　out　in　the　country；　and　to　get　there　I　had　to　follow　the　lurching　car　over　a　twisting；　rock…strewn；　spring…breaking　dirt　road。　When　the　old　cockfighter　stopped　at　the　entrance　to　his　dilapidated　barn；　I　parked　beside　him。
　　I　could　see　the　cockpit　without　getting　out　of　the　station　wagon。　The　linoleum　floor　was　a　shiny；　glistening　design　in　blue…and…white　checkered　squares。　The　glassy　floor　was　such　a　flagrant　violation　of　pit　regulations…anywhere…that　I　began　to　wonder　if　there　wasn't　more　going　on　here　than　Vern　Packard　had　told　me。　But　Vern　had　advised　me　not　to　fight；　so　I　decided　to　go　ahead　with　it　and　see　what　happened。
　　When　I　leaned　over　the　seat　to　pull　out　Icky's　coop；　Tom　opened　the　front　door　and　offered　his　help。
　　〃I'll　hold　him　for　you；　Mr。　Mansfield。〃
　　I　took　my　blue　chicken　out　of　the　coop　and　passed　him　to　Tom　Peeples。　He　smiled；　hefting　Icky　gently　with　his　big　raw　hands。
　　〃He　feels　jes'　like　a　baseball！〃　Tom　said；　as　I　opened　my　gaff　case。　〃Sure　does　seem　a　shame　to　see　Little　Joe　kill　a　pretty　chicken　like　this　one。〃
　　I　cleared　Icky's　spur　stumps　with　typewriter…cleaning　fluid；　and　heeled　him　low　with　a　set　of　silver　one…and…aquarter…inch　gaffs。　Holding　the　cock　under　the　chest　with　one　hand；　Tom　passed　him　back　to　me。
　　〃By　the　way；〃　he　said；　snapping　his　fingers；　〃Little　Joe　always　fights　in　three…inch　heels；　if　you　want　to　change。〃　Tom　had　waited　patiently　until　I　had　finished　heeling　before　providing　me　with　this　essential　information。　Another　violation　of　form。　Of　course；　he　had　no　way　of　knowing　that　I　wouldn't　have　changed　to　long　heels　anyway。
　　I　shook　my　head　indifferently；　and　he　ran　to　meet　his　father　who　was　rounding　the　corner　of　the　barn。　Mr　Peeples　had　gone　to　the　rows　of　chicken　runs　behind　the　barn　to　get　Icky's　opponent　while　Tom　had　helped　me　heel。　I　took　a　good　look　at　Little　Joe　from　the　front　seat。
　　The　cock　had　been　so　badly　battered　I　couldn't　determine　his　game　strain。　His　b　and　wattles　were　closely　cropped　for　fighting；　and　most　of　his　head　feathers　were　missing；　pecked　out　in　earlier　battles。　Instead　of　the　usual　graceful　sweep　of　arching　tail　feathers；　the　Peeples　cock　had　only　three　broken　quffis　straggling　from　his　stern。　Both　wings　were　ragged；　shredded；　in　fact。　Both　wings　had　been　broken　in　fighting；　and　although　they　had　knitted；　they　had　bumpy　leading　edges。　As　Milam　Peeples　sat　down　on　a　sawhorse　beside　the　pit　and　turned　the　cock　on　its　back　for　Tom　to　heel　him；　I　noticed　that　Little　Joe's　left　eye　was　missing。　A　blinker　on　top　of　everything　else。　If　Little　Joe　had　won　eighteen　fights；　and　from　his　appearance　he　had　been　in　many　battles；　Icky　was　in　for　the　toughest　fight　of　his　life。
　　Maybe　his　last。
　　Under　cover　from　Milam　and　Tom　Peeples；　I　sat　in　the　front　seat　of　the　station　wagon　holding　Icky　in　my　lap　and　briskly　rosined　the　bottom　of　his　feet。　I　was　still　rubbing　the　feet　when　the　old　man…　called　out　that　he　was　ready。　There　was　only　a　sliver　of　rosin　left；　but　I　put　it　in　my　shirt　pocket　and　joined　Milam　and　his　son　at　the　pit。
　　〃I'm　goin'　to　handle；〃　the　old　man　said。　〃And　if　you　don't　have　no　objections；　Tom　here　can　referee。〃
　　I　nodded；　stepped　over　the　low　wooden　wall　of　the　pit；　and　took　my　position　on　the　opposite　score。　The　waxed　floor　was　so　slick　my　leather　heels　slipped　on　it　slightly　before　I　got　to　the　other　side。　Although　I　figured　Mr。　Peeples　was　expecting　an　argument　of　some　kind　about　the　illegal　flooring；　I　kept　a　straight　face。　I　wondered；　though；　what　kind　of　an　explanation　he　used　to　counter　arguments　about　the　pit。　It　must　have　been　a　good　one。
　　〃Better　bill　'em；　Mr。　Mansfield；〃　Tom　said。
　　We　billed　in　the　center；　and　Icky　got　the　worst　of　the　prefight　session。　The　bald　head　of　Little　Joe　and　shortage　of　neck　feathers　didn't　give　him　a　mouthful　of　anything。　The　Peeples　cock　was　the　meanest　and　most　aggressive　biller　I'd　seen　in　some　time。　I　dropped　back　to　my　score。　Both　sets　of　scores；　the　eight　and　the　two　feet；　had　been　straightedged　onto　the　linoleum　with　black　paint。　As　I　squatted　behind　my　back　score；　Tom　asked　me　if　I　was　ready；　and　I　pointed　to　his　father。
　　〃Get　ready；　then；〃　Tom　said　to　the　old　man。
　　Milam　was　forced　to　hold　the　straining　Little　Joe　under　the　body　with　both　hands。　There　weren't　enough　tail　feathers　for　a　good　tail　hold…and　I　watched　Tom's　lips。
　　〃Pit！〃
　　The　fight　was　over。
　　The　battle　ended　so　quickly；　all　three　of　us　were　stunned。　I've　seen　hundreds　of　cockfights　end　in　the　first　pitting；　a　great　many　of　them　in　fewer　than　fifteen　seconds。　But　the　fight　between　Icky　and　Little　Joe　didn't　last　two　seconds。
　　I　was　aware　that　Little　Joe's　feet　were　rosined　as　well　as　Icky's。　Mr。　Peeples　had　coated　them　surreptitiously　when　he　got　the　chicken　from　its　coop　run　behind　the　barn。　So　the　only　way　I　can　account　for　the　quick　ending　is　by　crediting　Icky's　superior　speed　and　conditioning　and　my　longtime　practice　of　releasing　him　first。　The　old　man　was　hampered　when　the　time　came　to　let　go；　because　of　the　manner　in　which　he　had　to　hold　the　Ace　cock。
　　Tom's　sharp　order　to　pit　was　still　echoing　in　the　rafters　of　the　barn　when　I　released　my　Blue。　Icky；　with　his　sticky　feet　firmly　planted；　didn't　take　the　two　or　three　customary　steps　forward　like　he　usually　did。　He　flew　straight　into　the　air　from　a　standing　takeoff。　Old　Man　Peeples　scarcely　had　time　to　pull　his　hands　away　from　beneath　Little　Joe's　body　when　Icky　clipped　twice　and　cut　the　veteran　fighter　down　on　its　score。　It　happened　that　fast。　Click！　Click！　One　heel　pierced　Little　Joe's　head；　and　the　other　heel　broke　his　neck。
　　As　the　three　of　us　watched　in　silent　stupefaction；　Icky　strutted　proudly　to　the　center　of　the　pit；　leaving　white　gummy　footprints　in　his　wake；　and　issued　a　deep…throated　crow　of　victory。　The　expressions　on　the　faces　of　Milam　Peeples　&　Son　were　truly　delightful　to　see。　And　then　Tom　Peeples's　face　changed　from　milky　white　to　angry　crimson。
　　〃You　killed　my　Little　Joe！〃　he