to squeal. It means my wife goes to the pen ... I got two kids."
"And what does he want?"
"Marollo says I go down before the tenth round. He says I take it on the chin. Not an easy one, as he wants it to be the McCoy."
Flash Moran sat down suddenly. This explained a lot of things. It explained why Marollo was watching him. It explained why, when they found out who he was, the gangsters had backed out of beating him up.
"Well, why see me?" Moran asked. "What can I do?"
"One thing-don't stop me before the tenth, even if you get a chance."
"Not before the tenth? But I thought you said it was in the tank?"
"I talked it over with the wife. I told her I was going sooner or later anyway, that you were a good kid and would make a good champ, and that I'd sooner you had it than the others. I knew you were on the level, knew Dan was, too.
"But she said, nothing doing. She said that she'd take the rap rather than see this happen. That if I lose this fight for Blackie, he'll force me to do other things. Eventually, I'll have to kill him or become a crook.
"She told me to come and see you. She said that not only must I not take a dive, but there mustn't be any chance that he'd think I took it.
"Then she asked me if I could beat you." Barnaby looked at Flash Moran and grinned. "Well, you know how fighters are. I told her I could! Then she asked me if it was a cinch and I told her no, that the betting was wrong. It should be even money, or you a slight favorite. You're six years younger than me, and you are coming up. I'm not.
That makes a lot of difference."
Flash Moran looked at the floor. He could see it all. This quiet, simple man, talking quietly with his wife over the breakfast table, and deciding to do the honest thing.
"Then you want me to ease up on you in case I have you on the spot?" he said slowly. "That's a lot to ask, Soldier. You aren't going to be easy, you know. You're tough. Lots of times it's easier to knock a man out in the first round than any other time in the fight. Get him before he's warmed up."
"That's right. But you ain't going to get me in the first, kid. You might tag me about eight or nine, though. That's what I want to prevent.
"You see, the thing that makes guys like Marollo dangerous is money. They got money to buy killers. Well, I happen to know that Marollo has his shirt on this fight. He figures it's a cinch. He knows I'm crazy about my wife. He doesn't know that she'd do anything rather than let me do something dishonest. One bad mark against the family is enough, she says. But if we can make Marollo lose, we got a chance."
Flash Moran nodded. "I see. Yes, you've got something, all right."
"I think I can beat you, Moran. I'm honest about that. If I can, I will. I came because I'm not so dumb as to believe I can't lose."
"Okay." Moran stood up. "Okay, it's a deal. They want you down before the tenth. I won't try to knock you out until the eleventh round. No matter how hard it is, I'll hold you up!"
The Soldier grinned. "Right, then it's every man for himself." He thrust out his hand. "Anyway, Flash, no matter who wins, Blackie Mar olio loses. Okay?"
"Okay!"
When Barnaby was gone, Flash Moran sat down and pulled on his shoes. It might be a gag. It might be a stall to get him to lay off. It would be good, all right. They all knew he was a fast starter. They all knew his best chance would be quick.
Yet Barnaby's story fitted the situation too well. It was the only explanation for a lot of things. And, he remembered, both Marollo and McKracken had been talking the impossibility of a knockout. That would be right in line.
They would do all they could to inspire confidence in the fight going the distance, and then bet that it wouldn't go ten rounds.
He took his final workout, and then left the gym. It was late afternoon, and he walked slowly down the street.
He'd never worked a fight. It wasn't going to be easy, for all his life he had thrown his punches with purpose. Well, he thought
"And what does he want?"
"Marollo says I go down before the tenth round. He says I take it on the chin. Not an easy one, as he wants it to be the McCoy."
Flash Moran sat down suddenly. This explained a lot of things. It explained why Marollo was watching him. It explained why, when they found out who he was, the gangsters had backed out of beating him up.
"Well, why see me?" Moran asked. "What can I do?"
"One thing-don't stop me before the tenth, even if you get a chance."
"Not before the tenth? But I thought you said it was in the tank?"
"I talked it over with the wife. I told her I was going sooner or later anyway, that you were a good kid and would make a good champ, and that I'd sooner you had it than the others. I knew you were on the level, knew Dan was, too.
"But she said, nothing doing. She said that she'd take the rap rather than see this happen. That if I lose this fight for Blackie, he'll force me to do other things. Eventually, I'll have to kill him or become a crook.
"She told me to come and see you. She said that not only must I not take a dive, but there mustn't be any chance that he'd think I took it.
"Then she asked me if I could beat you." Barnaby looked at Flash Moran and grinned. "Well, you know how fighters are. I told her I could! Then she asked me if it was a cinch and I told her no, that the betting was wrong. It should be even money, or you a slight favorite. You're six years younger than me, and you are coming up. I'm not.
That makes a lot of difference."
Flash Moran looked at the floor. He could see it all. This quiet, simple man, talking quietly with his wife over the breakfast table, and deciding to do the honest thing.
"Then you want me to ease up on you in case I have you on the spot?" he said slowly. "That's a lot to ask, Soldier. You aren't going to be easy, you know. You're tough. Lots of times it's easier to knock a man out in the first round than any other time in the fight. Get him before he's warmed up."
"That's right. But you ain't going to get me in the first, kid. You might tag me about eight or nine, though. That's what I want to prevent.
"You see, the thing that makes guys like Marollo dangerous is money. They got money to buy killers. Well, I happen to know that Marollo has his shirt on this fight. He figures it's a cinch. He knows I'm crazy about my wife. He doesn't know that she'd do anything rather than let me do something dishonest. One bad mark against the family is enough, she says. But if we can make Marollo lose, we got a chance."
Flash Moran nodded. "I see. Yes, you've got something, all right."
"I think I can beat you, Moran. I'm honest about that. If I can, I will. I came because I'm not so dumb as to believe I can't lose."
"Okay." Moran stood up. "Okay, it's a deal. They want you down before the tenth. I won't try to knock you out until the eleventh round. No matter how hard it is, I'll hold you up!"
The Soldier grinned. "Right, then it's every man for himself." He thrust out his hand. "Anyway, Flash, no matter who wins, Blackie Mar olio loses. Okay?"
"Okay!"
When Barnaby was gone, Flash Moran sat down and pulled on his shoes. It might be a gag. It might be a stall to get him to lay off. It would be good, all right. They all knew he was a fast starter. They all knew his best chance would be quick.
Yet Barnaby's story fitted the situation too well. It was the only explanation for a lot of things. And, he remembered, both Marollo and McKracken had been talking the impossibility of a knockout. That would be right in line.
They would do all they could to inspire confidence in the fight going the distance, and then bet that it wouldn't go ten rounds.
He took his final workout, and then left the gym. It was late afternoon, and he walked slowly down the street.
He'd never worked a fight. It wasn't going to be easy, for all his life he had thrown his punches with purpose. Well, he thought
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