The Complete Works. O. Henry

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СКАЧАТЬ had deteriorated from long lack of training. Therefore, he forced the fighting from the start. It is difficult to say to what he owed his victory over the once champion middleweight. One thing in his favour was that Mr. Conlan’s nerve and judgment had been somewhat shattered by the effects of a recent spree. Another must have been that Holcombe was stimulated to supreme exertion by an absorbing incentive to win — a prompting more powerful than the instinct of the gladiator, deeper than all the motives of gallantry, and more important than the vital influence of love itself. A third fortuitous adjunct was, without doubt, a chance blow upon the projecting chin of the middleweight, under which that warrior sank to the gully’s grime and remained incapable, while Holcombe stood above him and leisurely counted him out.

      Danny got shakily to his feet, and proved to be a true sport.

      “You’re all right,” he said. “But if we’d had it by rounds ’twould have ended different. The girl goes with you, do you see? I’m on the square.”

      They climbed back to the cottage. “It’s settled,’’ announced Holcombe. “Mr. Conlan removes his objections.”

      “That’s straight,” said Danny. “He’s all right.”

      Holcombe had only a scratched and slightly reddened chin from a vicious, glancing uppercut from Danny’s left. Danny showed punishment. One eye was nearly closed. His lip was bleeding.

      Katie was a true woman. Such do not at once crown the victor in the tourney for their favour. Pity comes first. The victor must wait for his own. It will come to him. She flew to the vanquished champion and comforted him, ministering to his bruises. Holcombe stood, serene and smiling, without jealousy.

      “Tomorrow,” he said to Katie, with head erect and beaming eyes.

      “Tomorrow, if you like,” answered Katie.

      Holcombe minced his precarious way up the ragged hill among the obsolete tinware. His car came along a-glitter with electric lights and jammed with passengers. He jumped to the rear platform and stood there. At his side he found Weatherly, a friend and neighbour, who had also built a house in the suburbs, a few squares from his own.

      “Hello, Holcombe,” yelled Weatherly, above the crash of the car. “Been looking over some real estate, out here? How’re Mrs. Holcombe and the young H’s?”

      “First rate,” shouted Holcombe, “when I left home this morning. How’s the family with you?”

      “Only so-so. Usual suburban troubles. Servants won’t stay so far out; tradesmen object to delivering goods in the country; cars break down, etc. What’s pleasing you so? Made a lucky deal to-day?” Holcombe’s face wore an ecstatic look. He was fingering a little scratch on his chin with one hand. He leaned his head towards Weatherly’s ear.

      “Say, Bob, do you remember that Irish girl, Katie Flynn, that was with the Spaffords so long a time?”

      “I’ve heard of her,” said Weatherly. “They say she stayed a year with them without a single day off. But I don’t believe any fairy story like that.”

      “’Twas a fact. Well, I engaged her to-day for a cook. She’s going out to the house tomorrow.”

      “Confound you for a lucky dog,” shouted Weatherly, with envy in his tones and his heart, “and you live four blocks further out than we do!”

       THE END

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       Table of Contents

       “The Rose Of Dixie”

       The Third Ingredient

       The Hiding Of Black Bill

       Schools And Schools

       Thimble, Thimble

       Supply And Demand

       Buried Treasure

       To Him Who Waits

       He Also Serves

       The Moment Of Victory

       The Head-hunter

       No Story

       The Higher Pragmatism

       Best-seller

       Rus In Urbe

       A Poor Rule

      “The Rose Of Dixie”

       Table of Contents

      When The Rose of Dixie magazine was started by a stock company in Toombs City, Georgia, there was never but one candidate for its chief editorial position in the minds of its owners. Col. Aquila Telfair was the man for the place. By all the rights of learning, family, reputation, and Southern traditions, he was its foreordained, fit, and logical editor. So, a committee of the patriotic Georgia citizens who had subscribed the founding fund of $100,000 called upon Colonel Telfair at his residence, Cedar Heights, fearful lest the enterprise and the South should suffer by his possible refusal.

      The colonel received them in his great library, where he spent most of his days. The library had descended to him from his father. It contained ten thousand volumes, some of which had been published as late as the year 1861. When the deputation arrived, Colonel Telfair was seated at his massive white-pine centre-table, reading Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy.” He arose and shook hands punctiliously with each member of the committee. If you were familiar with The Rose of Dixie you will remember the colonel’s portrait, which appeared in it from time to time. You could not forget the long, carefully brushed white hair; the hooked, high-bridged nose, slightly twisted to the left; the keen eyes under the still black eyebrows; the classic СКАЧАТЬ