CHAPTER XV
LOYALTY
The freshman's smile had returned, and he stood with the gloves swingingby the strings from his hand. Siebold, who really was no piker, wasslipping on his gloves and having them laced up. Gus wished Bill to talkfor him--and Tony too--not that he needed moral support, but it waspleasanter to have good friends along than to be entirely surrounded byopponents. However, he felt quite equal to the physical task, and asready to stand his ground morally.
"See here, you sophs," he said. "I'll box and gladly, but not in the waySiebold wants to."
"Aw, what do you care how the other fellow feels? It's a bout just thesame; isn't it?"
"But Mr. Gay doesn't want us to show any hard feelings," Gus urged, "andhe's decent to us. I don't believe Siebold really thinks I'myellow--_do_ you?"--this last to his intended opponent.
"Looks like it," growled Siebold, showing more indignation than hereally felt. Had he permitted himself to use his reason, he would onlyhave admired Gus and would not have quarreled with him. Probably it wasnothing more than an uneasy conscience that now asserted itself and madehim add, in self-defense: "I guess you're yellow enough."
Gus had but one reply to make to that--and his answer was not verbal. Hedid not again take his eyes from Siebold, but he pulled on the gloves,laced the right one with the clumsy stuffed thumb and his teeth. Then hestepped forward. Siebold made a feint of extending his hand for thecustomary shake; but Gus ignored it and the next moment the two were atit in a way that showed clearly the desire to hurt each other and todisregard the mere matter of points. It was a slugging match from thefirst.
Siebold was no mean antagonist, and he had some tricks worthy of theprize ring. Moreover, he was a little taller, a little heavier and had alonger reach than Grier. Immediately it became apparent that he wastrying for a knock-out--he meant to put Gus away and to do it as quicklyas possible.
But Gus did not mean to be put out, and it became as quickly evidentthat he was quite capable of making Siebold work hard even to hit him.Siebold would bore in, drive for the jaw or stomach, and either miss orland lightly; but he would nearly always get a stinging crack inreturn--delivered at the same instant that his own blow was blocked, orin the fraction of a second after he had only struck the empty air.Still, these blows of Gus's were not paralyzers--they were justweakeners. They made Siebold angry enough to spend his strength ingetting back at the chap who could land in just when and where hewished.
Siebold's nose ached and bled; his eyes smarted, and one was closing.His stomach, too, was sore, and somehow he could not help but feel thathis blows were growing futile. At the end of the fifth round, as he satback on a bench, letting some of his would-be handlers fan and spongehim, he looked across at Gus, standing there, refusing all half-heartedoffers of attention and gazing at him with a smile on his unmarked face,the sophomore champion began to wish he had not got into this fuss. Thenhe grew furious at the thought that he was not making good.
A few minutes later, near the end of the sixth round, he began to tryfor clinches in order to save himself, but somehow his wary opponent, asquick on his feet and as strong with his hands as he was at the start,was still adept at hitting and getting away. Just then Sadler, who, withwatch in hand, always made a little step forward as he called the end ofeach round, put out his foot when Siebold was facing him and thesophomore, tired and eager for a minute's respite, started to get backand lowered his guard. And upon the instant of shouting the word Gus,with his back to Sadler, let go with his right.
Siebold crumpled up like a rag. Sadler, slow to begin counting, stoodover him a moment. Gus drew back and with the first excitement he hadshown jerked his gloves off and tossed them wide. The boys crowded in,gazing at Siebold who lay with white face and sprawled out like onedead. Gus heard Sadler's count reach eight; then stop. Someone said:"What's the matter with him, boys?" They had not seen a fellow lie sostill and show not even the flicker of an eyelid. One boy stooped downand lifted Siebold's arm, calling to him: "Wake up! Are you hurt?" Adoctor's son got down and put his ear to Siebold's heart. "Gosh,fellows! It's stopped! He's--he's dead!"
Gus pushed the boys aside. He had hit Siebold over the heart harder thanhe had intended. What if the blow had proved fatal? Most unlikely; morethan once he himself had been struck that way. It had hurt him, and onceit brought him to his knees, but it had never made him unconscious. He,in turn, got down and put his ear to Siebold's side. In the excitementboth the doctor's son and Gus had listened at the right side and no onehad observed the mistake. They were all looking on with horrified faces.Gus could hear nothing; he touched the prostrate youth's cheek; it wascold. He rose with something like a sob.
"Fellows, I didn't mean to do it. I didn't know he couldn't stand it.But he can't really be much hurt, can he? Why, I--he----"
Again Gus knelt and listened for heart beats. He slumped down, feelingas though his own heart would stop, too. In his daze he heard someonetalking on the telephone at the far end of the gym and dimlydistinguished the word "doctor." He got to his feet then. No one opposedhim. He must get Bill, good old Bill, to speak for him and tell themthat he had not meant to hurt Siebold. They must know he was notmurderously inclined, and that he hated to hurt anyone, anything, ananimal, a bug even; also that he would not run away if they wanted toarrest him.
In a sort of trance he reached his room, where he found Bill and Tony.Gus fell into a chair, almost sobbing.
"Bill, old fellow,--we boxed,--Siebold! And I--I've--I guess I've killedhim! I didn't mean to, Bill, you know that. Tell them I didn't; thatI'll be here and go to prison without a word. And write home, Bill, andtell them----"
"Oh, stuff!" said Bill. "I don't believe it! Tony will go see about it.At the gym, Gus? Yes, at the gym," nodding to the Italian.
Tony was gone. Bill stood by Gus, his hand on his chum's head. Seldomwas there any real show at tenderness between these lads, but there wasa loyalty there that made such a demonstration unnecessary.
"It isn't so, Gus--and even if it should be--anybody knows it was anaccident, and you won't be arrested. At least not in a criminalway--only in the matter of form. The president will understand. And,Gus, we can get together money enough to defend you--legally--eventhough we have to quit school."
"_You_ sha'n't quit school!" said Gus. "Not if I have to do time! No,sir! It doesn't matter much about me, but you--you're not to be in thisat all, except I don't want us ever to be not chums, Bill."
Rapid footsteps were coming along the hall then; the door opened andTony and Sadler burst into the room.
"He's all right, Grier. He's come to."
"Yes, _mio amico_; Siebold, this Sadler say, is again recover. You noneed longer to fear. But, ah! They tell it to me that he a sightpresents. He will go to his classes the observed. And it serves him allthe right; is it not so? And the most to do is to explain the Doctor foryou--which we all do."
Radio Boys Loyalty; Or, Bill Brown Listens In Page 15