Gladiator

  VII

  From the day of his arrival Webster University felt the presence of HugoDanner. Classes, football practice, hazing, fraternity scouting began onthat morning with a feverish and good-natured hurly-burly that, for atime, completely bewildered him. Hugo participated in everything. Hewent to the classroom with pleasure. It was never difficult for him tolearn and never easier than in those first few weeks. The professors hehad known (and he reluctantly included his own father) were dry-as-dustindividuals who had none of the humanities. And at least some of theprofessors at Webster were brilliant, urbane, capable of allunderstanding. Their lectures were like tonic to Hugo.

  The number of his friends grew with amazing rapidity. It seemed that hecould not cross the campus without being hailed by a member of thefootball team and presented to another student. The Psi Deltas saw to itthat he met the entire personnel of their chapter at Webster. Otherfraternities looked at him with covetous eyes, but Lefty Foresman, whowas chairman of the membership committee, let it be known that the PsiDeltas had marked Hugo for their own. And no one refused their bid.

  On the second Monday after college opened, Hugo went to the classelections and found to his astonishment that he received twenty-eightvotes for president. A boy from a large preparatory school was elected,but twenty-eight votes spoke well for the reputation he had gained inthat short time. On that day, too, he learned the class customs.Freshmen had to wear black caps, black shoes and socks and ties. Theywere not allowed to walk on the grass or to ride bicycles. The ancientcannon in the center of the class square was defended annually by thesophomores, and its theft was always attempted by the freshmen. Noentering class had stolen it in eight years. Those things amused Hugo.They gave him an intimate feeling of belonging to his school. He wroteto his parents about them.

  Dean Aiken, the newly elected president of the freshman class,approached Hugo on the matter of the cannon. "We want a gang of goodhusky boys to pull it up some night and take it away. Are you with us?"

  "Sure."

  Left to his own considerations, Hugo recalled his promise and walkedacross the campus with the object of studying the cannon. It was amedium-sized piece of Revolutionary War vintage. It stood directly inthe rear of Webster Hall, and while Hugo regarded it, he noticed thattwo sophomores remained in the vicinity. He knew that guard, changedevery two hours, would be on duty day and night until Christmas wassafely passed. Well, the cannon was secure. It couldn't be rolled away.The theft of it would require first a free-for-all with the sophomoresand after a definite victory a mob assault of the gun. Hugo walkedcloser to it.

  "Off the grass, freshman!"

  He wheeled obediently. One of the guards approached him. "Get off thegrass and stay off and don't look at that cannon with longing. It isn'thealthy for young freshmen."

  Hugo grinned. "All right, fella. But you better keep a double guard onthat thing while I want it."

  Two nights later, during a heavy rain that had begun after the fall ofdark, Hugo clad himself in a slicker and moved vaguely into the night.Presently he reached the cannon yard, and in the shelter of an arch hesaw the sophomore guards. They smoked cigarettes, and one of them sangsoftly. Day and night a pair of conscripted sentries kept watchful eyeson the gun. A shout from either of them would bring the whole classtumbling from its slumber in a very few moments. Hugo moved out of theirvision. The campus was empty.

  He rounded Webster Hall, the mud sucking softly under his feet and therain dampening his face. From beneath his coat he took a flare andlighted the fuse. He heard the two sophomores running toward it in thethick murk. When they were very close, he stepped on to the stoneflagging, looked up into the cloudy sky, gathered himself, and leapedover the three stories of Webster Hall. He landed with a loud thud tenfeet from the cannon. When the sophomores returned, after extinguishingthe flare, their cherished symbol of authority had vanished.

  There was din on the campus. First the loud cries of two voices. Thenthe screech of raised windows, the babble of more voices, and the rushof feet that came with new gusts of rain. Flash-lights pierced thegloom. Where the cannon had been, a hundred and then two hundred figuresgathered, swirled, organized search-parties, built a fire. Dawn came,and the cannon was still missing. The clouds lifted. In the wan lightsome one pointed up. There, on the roof of Webster Hall, with thenumerals of the freshman class painted on its muzzle, was the oldweapon. Arms stretched. An angry, incredulous hum waxed to a steadypitch and waned as the sophomores dispersed.

  In the morning, theory ran rife. The freshmen were tight-lipped,pretending knowledge where they had none, exulting secretly. Dean Aikenwas kidnapped at noon and given a third degree, which extorted noinformation. The theft of the cannon and its elevation to the roof ofthe hall entered the annals of Webster legend. And Hugo, watching thelaborious task of its removal from the roof, seemed merely as pleasedand as mystified as the other freshmen.

  So the autumn commenced. The first football game was played and Hugomade a touchdown. He made another in the second game. They took him toNew York in November for the dinner that was to celebrate the entranceof a new chapter to Psi Delta.

  His fraternity had hired a private car. As soon as the college towersvanished, the entertainment committee took over the party. Glasses werefilled with whisky and passed by a Negro porter. Hugo took his with afeeling of nervousness and of excited anticipation. The coach had givenhim permission to break training--advised it, in fact. And Hugo hadnever tasted liquor. He watched the others, holding his glass gingerly.They swallowed their drinks, took more. The effect did not seem to begreat. He smelled the whisky, and the smell revolted him.

  "Drink up, Danner!"

  "Never use the stuff. I'm afraid it'll throw me."

  "Not you. Come on! Bottoms up!"

  It ran into his throat, hot and steaming. He swallowed a thousandneedles and knew the warmth of it in his stomach. They gave anotherglass to him and then a third. Some of the brothers were playing cards.Hugo watched them. He perceived that his feet were loose on their anklesand that his shoulders lurched. It would not do to lose control ofhimself, he thought. For another man, it might be safe. Not for him. Herepeated the thought inanely. Some one took his arm.

  "Nice work in the game last week. Pretty."

  "Thanks."

  "Woodie says you're the best man on the team. Glad you went Psi Delt.Best house on the campus. Great school, Webster. You'll love it."

  "Sure," Hugo said.

  The railroad coach was twisting and writhing peculiarly. Hugo suddenlywanted to be in the air. He hastened to the platform of the car andstood on it, squinting his eyes at the countryside. When they reachedthe Grand Central Terminal he was cured of his faintness. They rode tothe theatre in an omnibus and saw the matinee of a musical show. Hugohad never realized that so many pretty girls could be gathered togetherin one place. Their scant, glittering costumes flashed in his face. Hewanted them. Between the acts the fraternity repaired in a body to thelavatory and drank whisky from bottles.

  Hugo began to feel that he was living at last. He was among men,sophisticated men, and learning to be like them. Nothing like the_camaraderie_, the show, the liquor, in Indian Creek. He was wearing thesuit that Lefty Foresman had chosen for him. He felt well dressed, cool,capable. He was intensely well disposed toward his companions. When theshow was over, he stood in the bright lights, momentarily depressed bythe disappearance of the long file of girls. Then he shouldered amonghis companions and went out of the theatre riotously.

  Two long tables were drawn up at the Raven, a restaurant famous for itsroast meats, its beer, and its lack of scruples about the behaviour ofits guests. The Psi Deltas took their places at the tables. Thedining-room they occupied was private. Hugo saw as if in a dream thelong rows of silverware, the dishes of celery and olives, and the ranksof shining glasses. They sat. Waiters wound their way among them. Therewas a song. The toastmaster, a New York executive who had graduated fromWebster twenty years before, understood the temper of his charge. H
e waswitty, ribald, genial.

  He made a speech, but not too long a speech. He called on the presidentof a bank, who rose totteringly and undid the toastmaster's good officesby making too long a speech. Its reiterated "dear old Websters" werefinally lost in the ring and tinkle of glassware and cutlery.

  At the end of the long meal Hugo realized that his being had undergonechange. Objects approached and receded before his vision. The voice ofthe man sitting beside him came to his ears as if through water. Hismind continually turned upon itself in a sort of infatuated examination.His attention could not be held even on his own words. He decided thathe was feverish. Then some one said: "Well, Danner, how do you likebeing drunk?"

  "Drunk?"

  "Sure. You aren't going to tell me you're sober, are you?"

  When the speaker had gone, Hugo realized that it was Chuck. There hadbeen no feeling of recognition. "I'm drunk!" he said.

  "Some one give Danner a drink. He has illusions."

  "Drunk! Why, this man isn't drunk. It's monstrous. He has a weakenedspine, that's all."

  "I'm drunk," Hugo repeated. He knew then what it was to be drunk. Thetoastmaster was rising again. Hugo saw it dimly.

  "Fellows!" A fork banged on a glass. "Fellows!" There was a slowincrease in silence. "Fellows! It's eleven o'clock now. And I have asurprise for you."

  "Surprise! Hey, guys, shut up for the surprise!"

  "Fellows! What I was going to say is this: the girls from the show wesaw this afternoon are coming over here--all thirty of 'em. We're goingup to my house for a real party. And the lid'll be off. Anythinggoes--only anybody that fights gets thrown out straight off without anargument. Are you on?"

  The announcement was greeted by a stunned quiet which grew into a bellowof approval. Plates and glasses were thrown on the floor. Lefty leapedon to the table and performed a dance. The proprietor came in, looked,and left hastily, and then the girls arrived.

  They came through the door, after a moment of reluctant hesitation, likea flood of brightly colored water. They sat down in the laps of theboys, on chairs, on the edge of the disarrayed tables. They were servedwith innumerable drinks as rapidly as the liquor could be brought. Theywere working, that night, for the ten dollars promised to each one. Butthey were working with college boys, which was a rest from the stream ofaffluent and paunchy males who made their usual escort. Their gaiety wasbetter than assumed.

  Hugo had never seen such a party or dreamed of one. His vision wascleared instantly of its cobwebs. He saw three boys seize one girl andturn her heels over head. A piano was moved in. She jumped up andstarted dancing on the table. Then there was a voice at his side.

  "Hello, good-looking. I could use that drink if you can spare it."

  Hugo looked at the girl. She had brown hair that had been curled. Herlips and cheeks were heavily rouged and the corners of her mouth turneddown in a sort of petulance or fatigue. But she was pretty. And herbody, showing whitely above her evening dress, was creamy and warm. Hegave the drink to her. She sat in his lap.

  "Gosh," he whispered. She laughed.

  "I saw her first," some one said, pulling at the girl's arm.

  "Go 'way," Hugo shouted. He pushed the other from them. "What's yourname?"

  "Bessie. What's yours?"

  "Hugo."

  The girl accepted two glasses from a waiter. They drained them, lookingat each other over the rims. "Got any money, Hugo?"

  Hugo had. He carried on his person the total of his cash assets. Somefifty dollars. "Sure. I have fifty dollars," he answered.

  He felt her red lips against his ear. "Let's you and me duck this partyand have a little one of our own. I've got an apartment not far fromhere."

  He could hear the pounding of his heart. "Let's."

  They moved unostentatiously from the room. Outside, in the hall, shetook his hand. They ran to the front door.

  There was the echo of bedlam in his whirling mind when they walkedthrough the almost deserted street. She called to a taxi and they weredriven for several blocks. At a cheap dance hall they took a table anddrank more liquor. When his head was turned, she narrowed her eyes andcalculated the effect of the alcohol against the dwindling of his purse.They danced.

  "Gee, you're a swell dancer."

  "So are you, Bessie."

  "Still wanna go home with Bessie?"

  "Mmmm."

  "Let's go."

  Another taxi ride. The lights seethed past him. A dark house and threeflights of rickety stairs. The gritty sound of a key in a lock. A littleroom with a table, a bed, two chairs, a gas-light turned low, adisheveled profusion of female garments.

  "Here we are. Sit down."

  Hugo looked at her tensely. He laughed then, with a harsh sound. Sheflew into his arms, returning his searching caresses with startlingfrankness. Presently they moved across the room. He could hear thenoises on the street at long, hot intervals.

  * * * * *

  Hugo opened his eyes and the light smote them with pain. He raised hishead wonderingly. His stomach crawled with a foul nausea. He saw thedirty room. Bessie was not in it. He staggered to the wash-bowl and wassick. He noticed then that her clothes were missing. The fact impressedhim as one that should have significance. He rubbed his head and eyes.Then he thought accurately. He crossed the room and felt in his trouserspockets. The money was gone.

  At first it did not seem like a catastrophe. He could telegraph to hisfather for more money. Then he realized that he was in New York, withouta ticket back to the campus, separated from his friends, and not knowingthe address of the toastmaster. He could not find his fraternitybrothers and he could not get back to school without more money.Moreover, he was sick.

  He dressed with miserable slowness and went down to the street. Servedhim right. He had been a fool. He shrugged. A sharp wind blew out of abright sky.

  Maybe, he thought, he should walk back to Webster. It was only eightymiles and that distance could be negotiated in less than two hours byhim. But that was unwise. People would see his progress. He sat down inMadison Square Park and looked at the Flatiron Building with a leisurelyeye. A fire engine surged up the street. A man came to collect the trashin a green can. A tramp lay down and was ousted by a policeman.

  By and by he realized that he was hungry. A little man with darting eyestook a seat beside him. He regarded Hugo at short intervals. At lengthhe said. "You got a dime for a cup of coffee?" His words were blurred byaccent.

  "No. I came here from school last night and my money was stolen."

  "Ah," there was a tinge of discouragement in the other's voice. "Andhungry, perhaps?"

  "A little."

  "Me--I am also hungry. I have not eaten since two days."

  That impressed Hugo as a shameful and intolerable circumstance. "Let'sgo over there"--he indicated a small restaurant--"and eat. Then I'llpromise to send the money by mail. At least, we'll be fed that way."

  "We will be thrown to the street on our faces."

  "Not I. Nobody throws me on my face. And I'll look out for you."

  They crossed the thoroughfare and entered the restaurant. The little manordered a quantity of food, and Hugo, looking guiltily at the waiter,duplicated the order. They became distantly acquainted during thefilched repast. The little man's name was Izzie. He sold second-handrugs. But he was out of work. Eventually they finished. The waiterbrought the check. He was a large man, whose jowls and hips andshoulders were heavily weighted with muscle.

  Hugo stood up. "Listen, fellow," he began placidly, "my friend and Ihaven't a cent between us. I'm Hugo Danner, from Webster University, andI'll mail you the price of this feed to-morrow. I'll write down my nameand--"

  He got no further. The waiter spoke in a thick voice. "So! One of themguys, eh? Tryin' to get away with it when I'm here, huh? Well, I tellyou how you're gonna pay. You're gonna pay this check with a bloodymush, see?" His fist doubled and drew back. Hugo did not shift hisposition. The fist came forward, but an arm like stone
blocked it.Hugo's free hand barely flicked to the waiter's jaw. He rolled under thetable. "Come on," he said, but Izzie had already vanished through thedoor.

  Hugo walked hurriedly up the street and turned a corner. A hand tuggedat his coat. He turned and was confronted by Izzie. "I seen you throughthe window. Jeest, guy, you kin box. Say, I know where you kin cleanup--if you got the nerve."

  "Clean up? Where?"

  "Come on. We better get out of here anyhow."

  They made their way toward the river. The city changed character on theother side of the elevated railroad, and presently they were walkingthrough a dirty, evil-smelling, congested neighborhood.

  "Where are we going, Izzie?"

  "Wait a minute, Mr. Danner."

  "What's the idea?"

  "You wait."

  Another series of dirty blocks. Then they came to a bulky building thatspread a canopy over the sidewalk. "Here," Izzie said, and pointed.

  His finger indicated a sign, which Hugo read twice. It said: "BattlingOle Swenson will meet all comers in this gymnasium at three thisafternoon and eight to-night. Fifty dollars will be given to any man,black or white, who can stay three rounds with him, and one hundreddollars cash money to the man who knocks out Battling Ole Swenson, theTerror of the Docks."

  "See," Izzie said, rubbing his hands excitedly, "mebbe you could do it."

  A light dawned on Hugo. He smiled. "I can," he replied. "What time isit?"

  "Two o'clock."

  "Well, let's go."

  They entered the lobby of the "gymnasium." "Mr. Epstein," Izzie called,"I gotta fighter for the Swede."

  Mr. Epstein was a pale fat man who ignored the handicap of the dankcigar in his mouth and roared when he spoke. He glanced at Hugo and thenaddressed Izzie. "Where is he?"

  "There."

  Epstein looked at Hugo and then was shaken by laughter. "There, yousays, and there I looks and what do I see but a pink young angel facethat Ole would swallow without chewing."

  Hugo said: "I don't think so. I'm willing to try."

  Epstein scowled. "Run away from here, kid, before you get hurt. Olewould laugh at you. This isn't easy money. It takes a man to get a lookat it."

  Izzie stamped impatiently. "I tell you, Mr. Epstein, I seen this boyfight. He's the goods. He can beat your Ole. I bet he can." His voicecaught and he glanced nervously at Hugo. "I bet ten dollars he can."

  "How much?" Epstein bellowed.

  "Well--say twenty dollars."

  "How much?"

  "Fifty dollars. It's all I got, Epstein."

  "All right--go in and sign up and leave your wad. Kid," he turned toHugo, "you may think you're husky, but Ole is a killer. He's six nine inhis socks and he weighs two hundred and eighty. He'll mash you."

  "I don't think so," Hugo repeated.

  "Well, you'll be meat. We'll put you second on the list. And thelights'll go out fast enough for yuh."

  Hugo followed Izzie and reached him in time to see a fifty-dollar billpeeled from a roll which was extracted with great intricacy from Izzie'sclothes. "I thought you hadn't eaten for two days!"

  "It's God's truth," Izzie answered uneasily. "I was savin' thisdough--an' it's lucky, too, isn't it?"

  Hugo did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. He said: "And you'dhave let me take a poke in the jaw from that waiter. You're a hell of aguy, Izzie."

  Izzie moved his eyes rapidly. "I ain't so bad. I'm bettin' on you, ain'tI? An' I got you a chancet at the Swede, didn't I?"

  "How'd you know that waiter couldn't kill me?"

  "Well--he didn't. Anyhow, what's a poke in the jaw to a square meal,eh?"

  "When the other fellow gets the poke and you get the meal. All right,Izzie. I wish I thought Ole was going to lick me."

  Hugo wrote his name under a printed statement to the effect that thefight managers were not responsible for the results of the combat. Theman who led him to a dressing-room was filled with sympathy and advice.He told Hugo that one glance at Ole would discourage his recklessavarice. But Hugo paid no attention. The room was dirty. It smelled ofsweat and rubber sneakers. He sat there for half an hour, reading anewspaper. Outside, somewhere, he could hear the mumble of a gatheringcrowd, punctuated by the voices of candy and peanut-hawkers.

  At last they brought some clothes to him. A pair of trunks that flappedover his loins, ill-fitting canvas shoes, a musty bath robe. When thedoor of his room opened, the noise of the crowd was louder. Finally itwas hushed. He heard the announcer. It was like the voice of a ministercoming through the stained windows of a church. It rose and fell. Thenthe distant note of the gong. After that the crowd called steadily,sometimes in loud rage and sometimes almost in a whisper.

  Finally they brought Ole's first victim into Hugo's cell. He was a manwith the physique of a bull. His face was cut and his eyes weredarkening. One of the men heaving his stretcher looked at Hugo.

  "Better beat it, kid, while you can still do it on your own feet. Youain't even got the reach for Ole. He's a grizzly, bo. He'll just aboutkill you."

  Hugo tightened his belt and swung the electric light back and forth witha slow-moving fist. Another man expertly strapped his fists withadhesive tape.

  "When do I go out?" Hugo asked.

  "You mean, when do you get knocked out?" the second laughed.

  "Fight?"

  "Well, if you're determined to get croaked, you do it now."

  In the arena it was dazzling. A bank of noisy people rose on all sidesof him. Hugo walked down the aisle and clambered into the ring. Ole wasone of the largest men he had ever seen in his life. There was no doubtof his six feet nine inches and his two hundred and eighty pounds. Hugoimagined that the man was not a scientific fighter. A bruiser. Well, heknew nothing of fighting, either.

  A man in his shirt sleeves stood up in the ring and bellowed, "The nextcontestant for the reward of fifty dollars to stay three rounds withbattling Ole and one hundred dollars to knock him out is Mr. H. Smith."They cheered. It was a nasty sound, filled with the lust for blood. Hugorealized that he was excited. His knees wabbled when he rose and hishand trembled as he took the monstrous paw of the Swede and saw hisunpleasant smile. Hugo's heart was pounding. For one instant he feltweak and human before Battling Ole. He whispered to himself: "Quit it,you fool; you know better; you can't even be hurt." It did not make himany more quiet.

  Then they were sitting face to face. A bell rang. The hall became silentas the mountainous Swede lumbered from his corner. He towered over Hugo,who stood up and went out to meet him like David approaching Goliath. Tothe crowd the spectacle was laughable. There was jeering before theymet. "Where's your mamma?" "Got your bottle, baby?" "Put the poor littlebastard back in his carriage." "What's this--a fight or a freak show?"Laughter.

  It was like cold water to Hugo. His face set. He looked at Ole. TheSwede's fist moved back like the piston of a great engine into whichsteam has been let slowly. Then it came forward. Hugo, trained to seeand act in keeping with his gigantic strength, dodged easily. "Attaboy!" "One for Johnny-dear!" The fist went back and came again andagain, as if that piston, gathering speed, had broken loose and wasflailing through the screaming air. Hugo dodged like a beam of light,and the murderous weapon never touched him. The spectators began toapplaud his speed. He could beat the Swede's fist every time. "Run him,kiddo!" "It's only three rounds."

  The bell. Ole was panting. As he sat in his corner, his coal-scuttlegloves dangling, he cursed in his native tongue. Too little to hit.Bell. The second round was the same. Hugo never attempted to touch theSwede. Only to avoid him. And the man worked like a Trojan. Sweatseethed over his big, blank face. His small eyes sharpened to points. Hebrought his whole carcass flinging through the air after his fist. Butevery blow ended in a sickening wrench that missed the target. The crowdgrew more excited. During the interval between the second and thirdrounds there was betting on the outcome. Three to one that Ole wouldconnect and murder the boy. Four to one. One to five that Hugo would winfifty dollars before he died ben
eath the trip-hammer.

  The third round opened. The crowd suddenly tired of the sport. A shrillfemale voice reached Hugo's cold, concentrated mind: "Keep on running,yellow baby!"

  So. They wanted a killing. They called him yellow. The Swede was on him,elephantine, sweating, sucking great, rumbling breaths of air, swinginghis fists. Hugo studied the motion. That fist to that side, up, down,now!

  Like hail they began to land upon the Swede. Bewilderingly, everywhere.No hope of guarding. Every blow smashed, stung, ached. No chance toswing back. Cover up. His arms went over his face. He felt rivets driveinto his kidneys. He reached out and clinched. They rocked in eachother's arms. Dazed by that bitter onslaught of lightning blows, Olethought only to lock Hugo in his arms and crush him. When they clinched,the crowd, grown instantly hysterical, sank back in despair. It wasover. Ole could break the little man's back. They saw his arms springinto knots. Jesus! Hugo's fist shot between their chests and Ole wasthrown violently backward. Impossible. He lunged back, crimson to kill,one hand guarding his jaw. "Easy, now, for the love of God, easy," Hugosaid to himself. There. On the hand at the chin. Hugo's gloves went out.Lift him! It connected. The Swede left the floor and crumpled slowly,with a series of bumping sounds. And how the hyenas yelled!

  They crowded into his dressing-room afterwards. Epstein came to his sidebefore he had dressed. "Come out and have a mug of suds, kid. That wasthe sweetest fight I ever hope to live to see. I can sign you up for afortune right now. I can make you champ in two years."

  "No, thanks," Hugo said.

  The man persisted. He talked earnestly. He handed Hugo a hundred-dollarbill. Hugo finished his dressing. Izzie wormed his way in. "Fiftydollars I won yet! Didn't I tole you, Mr. Epstein!"

  "Come here, Izzie!"

  The little man ran to shake Hugo's hand, but it was extended for anotherreason. "I want that fifty you won," he said unsmilingly. "When a birdtracks along for a free feed and lets another guy fight for him and hasa roll big enough to stop up a rainspout, he owes money. That lunch willset you back just exactly what you won on me."

  There was laughter in the room. Izzie whimpered. "Ain't you got ahundred all ready that I got for you? Ain't it enough that you got it?Ain't I got a wife wit' kids yet?"

  "No, it ain't, yet." Hugo snapped the fingers of his extended hand. Theother hand doubled significantly. Izzie gave him the money. He wasalmost in tears. The others guffawed.

  "Wait up, bo. Give us your address if you ever change your mind. You canpick up a nice livin' in this game."

  "No, thanks. All I needed was railroad fare. Thank you,gentlemen--and--good-by."

  No one undertook to hinder Hugo's departure.