Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-09-12

without a murmur Seemed sort of
dazed. / believe now / could have had
twenty If I'd had the presence of
mind to ask for 1t. STILL said
Ukridge, with resignation, 1T can't
be helped now, and ten will see me
through. The only thing that's worry
ing me at the moment Is what to call
Billson."
"Why not his own name?"
His parents, confound Them" said
Ukridge. "christened him Wilberforce.
ask you, can you see the crowd at
Wonderland having Wilberforce Bill
son introduced to them?"
Willie Billson,' 1 suggested.
Rather snappy."
Ukridge considered the proposal
! seriously, with knit brows, as becomes
a manager.
How about Battling Billson?"
go no farther" I said THE thing
is settled. Battling Billson is the
name"
7 TKRIDGE and his protege left next
morning for Barnes, and saw
no more Of the Battler until the fate
full night at Wonderland.
1 had not supposed that it was pos
sible for man to be larger than was
| Mr.. Billson when arrayed for the
street, but in trunks and boxing shoes
he looked like his big brother. Muscles
resembling the hawsers of an Allan
tic liner coiled down his arms and
rippled along his massive shoulders.
! He seemed to dwarf altogether the
by no means f1msy athlete who
passed out Of the room as we
| came in.
| That's the bloke." announced Mr.
Billsoni.
| We understood him to imply that
the other was his opponent, and the
spirit of confidence which had ami
mated us waxed considerably. Where
six Of the pick of the merchant ma
rine had failed, this STRIPPING could
scarcely hope to succeed.
Il been talkin' to i'm" said Bat
Ting Billson.
I took this unwonted garrulity to
be due to nervousness natural at such
! a moment.
| "'E's 'ad a lot of trouble, that
bloke." said the Battler.
The obvious reply was that he was
now going to have a lot more. but be-
! fore either of us could make it a
! hoarSe voice announced that the stage
! waited for our nominee. We hurried
| to our seats. The audience seemed
! in excellent humor. All those who
were not too busy eating jellied cells
were babbling happily or whistling be-
tween their fingers to friends in dis
tant parts Of the hall. AS Mr.. Billson
climbed into the ring in all the glory
of his red hair and jumping muscles.
the babble rose to roar. 1t was
, plain that Wonderland had stamped
our Battler with it's approval on sight
The audiences which support Won
der!and are not disdainful Of science.
Neat footWork wins their commenda-
ton, and "A skiilfuI ducking of the
head is greeted with knowing APP
Dlause. But what they esteem most
highly is the punch. And one sight
| OF Battling Billson seemed to tell
them that here was the punch per
| sonified. They sent the fighters off to
| a howl of ecstasy, and settled back in
of seeing two of their fellow men hit
! ting each other very hard and often.
| ** X i;
THE howl died away.
| looked at Ukridge with con-
| Germ Was this the hero of Marseille.
, the man who cleaned out barrooms
and on whom undertakers fawned.
Diffident was the only word to de-
scribe our Battler's behavior in that
opening round. He paved lightly at
his antagonist. He embraced him like
a brother. He shuff1ed about the ring.
| innocuous. The referee was speaking
to him like a disappointed father. In
the cheaper and baser parts of the
house enraged citizens were whistling
| Comrades. Everywhere a chill had
| fallen on the house.
With the opening or the second
| round considerably more spirit was in
| troduced into the affair. The same
| strange torpidity still held our Battler
in its grip, but his opponent was an
other man. During round one he had
seemed a little nervous and apprehen-
sive. He had behaved as if he con-
| sidered it prudent not to stir Mr.. Bill
son. But now this distaste for direct
action had left him. There was jaun-
| tiness in his demeanor as he moved
to the center Of the ring: and, having
reached it, he uncoiled a long left and
smote Mr.. Billson forcefully on the
| nose. Twice he smote him. and twice
Mr.. Billson blinked like one who had
| had bad news from home. The man
| who had had lot of trouble leaned
| sideways and brought his right fist
squarely against the Battler's ear.
All was forgotten and forgiven. A
moment before the audience had been
| solidly anti-Billson. Now they were
| as unanimously pro. For these blows,
| while they appeared to have affected
him not at all physically, seemed to
have awakened Mr.. Billson's better
feelings, as if somebody had turned
on tap. For an instant after the re-
ceipt of that buffet on the ear the Bat.
! tier stood motionleSS, apparently in
deep thought.
! Then, with the air Of one who ha q
suddenly remembered an important
appointment, he plunged forward.
Like an animated windmill, he cast
himself upon the bloke Of troubles.
He knocked him here, he bounced
him there. He committed mayhem
upon his person. He did everything
| to him that a man can do who is
hampered with boxing gloves, until
presently the troubled one was lean
| ing heavily against the ropes, his
head hanging daZedly. his whole atti-
tude that of a man who would Just
as soon let the matter drop. It only
remained for the Battler to drive home
the final punch, and a hundred en-
| thusiasts were pointing out to him
desirable locations for 1t.
But once more that strange diff
dence had descended upon our rep
! resentative. He looked uncertainty
at his opponent and inquiringly at
the referee.
| The referee. obviously a man Of
blunted sensibilities, wanted his pa
irons to get good value for their
money. He was urging Mr.. Billson
to make a thorough job of it. And
finally Or. Billson approached his
man and drew back his right arm.
Having done this. he looked over his
shoulder once more at the referee.
1t was a fatal blunder. The man
who had had a lot Of trouble may have
been in poor shape, but. like most
Of his profession, he retained, despite
his recent misadventures. a reserve