Grand Forks herald. [volume] (Grand Forks, N.D.) 1916-1955, 1922-08-11
though his mouth wasfdry as a Wills
per and there were goose quilts on

though his mouth. was dry as . whis-
2 = there were goose quilts on
Rut purand. used to the fetid at
moSphere Of barrooms and 10 the
soft living OF tho great city, found
the strain. What Kind Of d ma was
his enemy to lie there in the black
silence and not once give sign OF
where he was, in spite OF crashing
bAllets ? Was It possible that he could
have killed the fellow at the first
shota The comfort Of this thought
whispered hope in theNear Of the ex-
A chair crashed wildly. Durand
fred again and yet again, his nerves
giving way to a panic that carried
him to swift action. He could mot
nave stood another moment without
screaming.
There came the faint sound OF a
hand cropping OF the wall. and Inn
mediately after a flood or light oiled
the room. ~
Clay stood by the door. His re-
volver covered the crouching gang
leader. His eyes were hard and pitt
'.rry another shot" he advised
ironically.
fJerrX did. A. harmless click was
all the}result he got. He knew now
that the cownan had tempted him to
! waste his last shots at a bit Of fur
ntture fung across the room.
"YouM tell me what you did with
Kitty Mason" said Clay in his low,
persuasive voice, just as though there
had been no inteymission of flying
bullets since he had mentioned the
girl before.
you can't kill me, whenrI haven't
a loaded gun" Durand answered be-
tween dry lips.
The other man nodded an admis-
sion Of that point. That's an adj
vantage you've got Of me. You could
kill me If / didn't have q gun. because
you. That's right. But I can beat
hill out Of you, and I'm sure goin'
to do It,"
Talks cheap, when you've got a
loaded six-gun in your fist" jeered
Jerry.
With a nirt Of his hand Clay tossed
the revolver to the top of a. book
case, out of easy reach Of q man
STANDING on the floor. He ripped open
ped out Of 1t, then moved forward
with elastic step.
TITS you or me now, Jerry Du-
rand" Nv
The ,prtze-nehter rave I. snort of
defisiye triumph. You d-n fool!
I'll eat you alive"
S"Mebbeso. I reckon my system can
to teSi hand me any GO ~e 70 it," you're Maple
Durand had the heavy shoulders
and swelling muscles that come from
years Of training for the ring. Like
most pugili: sts> out Of active service,
he had taken on flesh. But the extra
weight was not fat,s for Jerry kept
always in good condition. lHe held
his leadership partly at least because
Of his physical proves. No tough;
him in a rough-and- tumble fight.
The younger man was more slight
lv built. He was g. Hermes rather.
than a Hercules. His muscles flowed.
They did mo- bhlge. But when he
moved it was with the litheness Of
panther. The long lines OF shoulder
and loin had the flow Of tigerish
grace. The clear eyes in the brown
face told OF a soul indonitable In a
perfectly synchronized body.
Durand dashed out with a swinging
left all the weight Of his body behind
the blow. Clay stepped back. shot q
hard straight right to the cheek and
ducked the counter. Jerry rushed
him. failing at his foe blow on blow,
intending to wear him out by sheer
hard hammering.. He butted with his
head and knee, used every foul trick
he had learned in his rotten trade Of
prize-fghting. Active as a wildcat,
the Arizonan si~de-stepped, scored a
left on the eye, ducked again and
fought back the furious attack. y
h aangman came out of the rally
winded. perplexed and disturbed. His
cheek was bleeding. one y was in,
distress, and he had hardly touched
his agile opponent.
temper. The lack of ~self-control that
made him see red and had one put
him at the mercy of a hrst-class ring
general with stamina and a punch,
had kept Jerry out. of a world cham
pionship. He had everything else
needed, but he was the victips of his
own passion. 1t betrayed him now.
His fighting was that Of a wild cave
man, blind, furious, damaging. He
IN order to destroy the ma he hated.
He, rained blows on ,him-fought with
head and knee and hst, was on top,
OF him every moment. controlled BY
one dominating purposeFto make that
dancing figure take the dust.
Clay was cool, quite master of him
self. Before the fight had gone three
minutes he knew that, barring a
chance blow, some foul play. or a bit
Of bad luck. he would win. He was
covering up. letting the\ pugilist wear
himself out, and taking only the pun
ishment he must. But he was get
ting home some heavy body blows
that were playing the mischief with
Jerry's wind.
The New Yorker. putting like a sea
lion, came out of a rally winded and
spent. Instantly Clay took the often
sive. He was a trained boxer as we'll
as a fighter, and he had been taught
how to make every ounce Of his
weight count. Ripping in a body
blow as a feint, he brought down
Durand's guard. A. straight left
crashed home between the eyes and
a heavy solar plexus shook the man
to- the heels,
Durand tried to close with him. An
uppercut jolted him back. He plunged
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