The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-05-24

marked the visitor, "still-stilr'-the SEN
tence was left unfinished with curious
little twiri of depreciation, inclined to ex-
asperate.
RED game" explained his neighbor, try
ing hard not to show his exultation, war
ranted." he remarked. casually, Ito whip
any other breed known"
Mr.. Jones's grey eyes rested on him re-
fectively. Thomas" he ventured, 'it
must have been misprint. The dealer as
! sured me that the black-breasted game was
distinctly, and without question, superior
to all others in the matter of courage"
George" the smaller man was becom-
ing trife heated in spite of himself. on
behalf OF his new purchase. George, /
should unhesitatingly back my fowl there
against any other two in the country"
The other thrust his two hands deep into
his trousers pockets. do it. them he
| snapped.
The thought flashed instantly into the
others mind: by cricky!' he exclaimed,
bring your fowl over and will"
A moment later two figures. one rotund
and one lean, both clad in neat grey bust
| ness suits, might have been going hastily
| naughty boys. in the direction of the Jones
| cottage. Entering the chicken Enclosure
stealthily, they cornered the astonished
black-breasted game, and as his owner hid
| him beneath his coat something very like
sigh of relief smote the evening air as
| glance cottageward showed closed blinds.
"Clara is out this evening; yes, 1 recollect
the Kidder affair." he added half apollo
getically. hopping his bare forehead,
| otherwise 1 should run in and tell her."
"Tell her what?" asked the other bluntly.
| Then merry little twinkle in one pair of
| gray eyes matched itself in a pair of blue;
the boyish heart swelling with mischief
and stolen freedom rose UP at that instant
| from years gone by, and two very live boy
ghosts walked back the length of the alley
clad in sedate business suits.
| AS they entered the Brown inclosure the
| visitor opened his coat and drew forth the
confused and rumpled Charlemagne, and
set him carefully on his silt legs a short
| distance from the new arrival.
"But, Thomas" he looked up seriously
| at his neighbor, understand, 1T is TO go
| only so far, no farther. There is to be no
tinge of cruelty
Distinctly no tinge of cruelty" echoed
| the other hastily.
I AS for the cocks, they eyed one another
curiously for a moment; then they dropped
their beaks and began looking apparently
| on the ground for something that wasn't
| there. making little pecking dips with their
combless heads in a circle round one an
other. Suddenly theirJ heads came up to-
gether, perhaps five inches apart. Then
their spurs clicked merrily-was not this
what they were bred for? And a mission
arose in each wide breast. while the long
] feathers beneath their bullet heads stood
out and quivered with the fluctuations of
their necks. Then they stood back and
| rubbed their spurs along their long legs
unetuously. A chance of lifstime. Sud-
| denly there a ducking of their two
heads, followed by bounding jump that
sent a cloud of feathers floating towards
| the ground
up in the air wildly.
The taller man, standing with his hands
braced on his knees. did not answer him.
1t was true the first cloud had been prin-
| cipally black feathers, but the next and
following upheavals mixed it plentifully
with red.
'whoo-whoo-oop!' another straw hat
| went up, and the two men glared at one
| another.
BY the third duck war was on with VEN
geance. Spurs clicked, feathers flew; it
was a whirling round of feathers, legs and
gravel. And around the pair danced Mr..
Brown and Mr.. Jones, no longer the sedate
business men of two hours ago, but two
primeval savages bent on blood victory.
Undeniably the Red Game was gaining.