by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER V JOHNNY FIGHTS FOR FUN
News travels fast in the north. When the time came for the boys to makeone more journey to the store at Palmer everyone had heard of theircatch.
"Here they come," someone shouted as, stamping the snow from their feet,they entered the smoke-filled room.
"Here they come. They bring 'em back alive!" someone else shouted.
"Well," Lawrence drawled, "we bring them anyway. Got two minks today.That's two more that won't carry off folks' chickens."
"I hear you boys got a silver fox." There was a suggestion of antagonismin Jack Mayhorn's voice as he said this.
"Yes," Johnny replied. "And we've still got him."
"Do you know, fellows," Jack gave vent to a chuckle that seemed a littlestrained, "back in Michigan, where I lived on the shores of LakeSuperior, there was a feller who used to go lake-trout fishin'. Hetrolled with an out-board motor. Always got 'em, too, a whale of a finecatch.
"But you know," he edged forward in his chair, "there was net fishermenthere, too. Fished fer a living. And one day when we was lookin' overthis sportin' fellow's catch, the fish he claimed he'd caught trollin' wefound had net marks on 'em."
"Net marks?" someone said.
"Sure." There was a shifty look in Jack's eyes. "He'd been liftin' netsan' helping himself to the fish that didn't belong to him. And I waswonderin'," he paused, "just wonderin', Johnny, if that silver fox ofyours mebby had a lame foot or--or somethin'."
The silence that followed was painful. Johnny made no reply. His fingersworked along his palm, that was all.
It was Blackie Dawson who spoke at last. "I take it, Jack," he spokeslowly, "you are insinuating that these boys took the fox from your trap.Let me tell you, old man, that sort of thing calls for a fight; in thenorth it does."
Jack made no reply, but Johnny did.
"I'm sorry," he said, speaking slowly. "It doesn't mean a fight to me."
"You won't fight?" Blackie stared at him.
"Not to settle a personal grudge," Johnny replied slowly. "If Jack wantsto think we took the fox from his trap, that's his privilege. If he wouldlike to examine the fox that's his privilege also. But I'm not going tobeat him up just to make him take back something he's said. That mightseem to be a point of honor but we all have our own codes of honor. Itmay seem queer but I'd rather take an insult than give someone abeating."
"Take a beating you mean," Jack sneered. He was nearly twice Johnny'ssize.
"Joe," said Johnny, turning to the store-keeper, "you told me you got twopairs of boxing gloves through the mail."
"Sure, Johnny, I did. Here they are." Reaching behind him thestore-keeper drew out two pairs of gloves.
"Put 'em on, Johnny," Blackie encouraged.
"Put 'em on! Put 'em on!" came from all over the room. There was a stirof expectancy in the air.
"Sure, I'll put them on," Johnny grinned. "What do you say, Joe? I'll boxyou five rounds. Five friendly bouts for fun, money or marbles."
The crowd stared, Johnny was talking not to the man who had offered theinsult but to his friend the store-keeper.
For a moment Joe stood staring at him. Then, as the light of a smilespread over his face, he said, "Sure, Johnny, I'll box you, not for moneyor marbles, but just, you might say, for fun."
It will be a long time before the settlers of Matanuska Valley will againwitness such a match as followed. Five rounds for fun, between friends?Yes, perhaps. And yet there were times when even Johnny doubted that.True, he was not angry for a moment, just in there doing his best. ButJoe? He was wondering about him.
Though he had told no one in the valley about it, Joe had, only the yearbefore, belonged to the U. S. Marines. The Marines neither give nor askquarters. And Joe had been champion of his regiment. As for Johnny, wellyou know Johnny. If you don't, you should have been there that night.
From the start it was leather against leather, a slap for the chin, athrust at the heart, a bang on the side of the head, and after that aclinch.
Seldom had men been more evenly matched. Joe was older, more experienced,Johnny younger, faster on his feet.
They had not been going a minute when an involuntary ring had formedabout them. In that ring, gaping open-mouthed was Jack Mayhorn.
Twice Johnny was down on a knee. Each time he was up and at it. Once,backed into a corner, Joe tripped and fell. He, too, was up before thecount of three.
The fifth round was wild. Had there been an announcer, he must surelyhave lost his mind calling, "A right to Johnny's chin, a left to his ear.The ear is bleeding. Oh--a! A slam on the side of Joe's head that makeshim slightly groggy. Johnny's following through. The clinch! The referee(Blackie) separates them. They are sparring now. Now! Oh, now! Johnnytakes one on the chin. He's down. One--two--three--He's up again." So itwent to the end.
As the cowbell, rung by young Larry Hooker, announced the close of theround, the crowd went wild with enthusiasm, but Joe, seizing Johnny bythe glove, dragged him into the kitchen at the back of the store.
"Boy, you're a whiz!" he exclaimed. "There was a time or two when Ithought you had me." He was mopping Johnny's face with a wet towel.
"Not a chance," Johnny laughed. "I didn't know what I was stepping intobut I did my best."
"Listen," Joe held up a hand. The tumult in the outer room had died down.Blackie Dawson was about to make a short speech. "Gentlemen," he wassaying, "the day after tomorrow at early candle light, there'll beanother boxing bout in this room. It will be between--" hepaused--"between Jack Mayhorn and--he--he has a choice--Johnny Thompsonor Joe Lawrence."
"No!" a voice fairly roared after the shouts had subsided, "I got a badfoot. My footwork, it ain't no good at all." It was Jack Mayhorn whospoke.
"So it's _your_ foot that's bad and not that silver fox's foot?" Blackiebantered.
The crowd let out a roar that could have been heard a mile.
"That'll about fix Jack Mayhorn," said Joe. "He's not likely to botheryou much now."
An hour later, when the customers had "cleared out and gone home," Johnnyand Lawrence found themselves in Joe's kitchen. Blackie and Joe werethere. So was Mrs. Joe. They were all eating huckleberry pie and drinkinghot chocolate.
"Johnny," said Joe, feeling a plaster on his chin, "why did you do it?"
"Do what?" Johnny stared.
"Pick on me for a fight. I never done you no wrong."
"That's why," was Johnny's astonishing reply. "It's an old Eskimocustom."
"What is?" They all stared at him.
"According to the Eskimo law," Johnny went on soberly, "if you are goingto be killed it has to be done by a near relative or very close friend.So-o--" he added with a spreading grin, "I thought you'd do as well asanyone. And you did--even better."
"Anyway," Blackie supplemented after their laugh was over, "folks inMatanuska Valley will know who among us can put up a good scrap and thatalways helps."
When one is young he thinks only of the present and the future, never ofthe past. As the two boys walked home that night, they thought much ofthe future. The bond of friendship between them and Blackie Dawson wasgrowing stronger every day. When spring came, would they go booming awaywith him on a Coast Guard boat in search of adventure in Bristol Bay? Whocould tell?
In the meantime there was work to be done, plenty of it. Some twentyacres of land was yet to be cleared. In the spring stumps must be pulled.Without a tractor this would mean back-breaking labor.
"Perhaps we can get more foxes?" Lawrence said, thinking out loud.
"Yes, and other wild creatures," Johnny added. "That country 'back of thebeyond' has never even been explored. There must be wild life back therethat's never been seen. Peary found white reindeer on one of hisexpeditions. Who can tell what we'll come upon if we keep up our search?"
Who, indeed? The boy had spoken more wisely than he knew.