Part 9 (1/2)

The injury to the shop was kept as secret as possible. In a few days the work went on as before, only one other fellow besides Lambert knowing there had been a smash-up. So that incident was closed, but out of it, or as a part of it, more serious circ.u.mstances showed that Malatesta, wherever he may have gone, had by no means forgotten the feud that now included Bill and Gus as well as Tony.

Gus was never questioned as to his possession of a revolver which made his wild west method of intimidating Malatesta possible. Probably the Doctor believed the cigar case had been used again.

CHAPTER XIV

FISTICUFFS

Siebold, a keen-witted fellow and an athlete, was the leading spirit among the soph.o.m.ores of Marshallton Tech. He was cla.s.s president, stood easily at the head of his cla.s.ses, if head there was, and in most things he admittedly surpa.s.sed his fellows. His people being well-to-do, he indulged in all the little ”side kicks,” as the boys termed sports, social diversions and the like.

A really fine chap was Siebold, though he possessed one unfortunate failing--he persisted in holding to a grudge; and he had never forgiven Bill and Gus for that hazing fiasco, nor for bringing down the scorn of the school on what had been considered a harmless kind of fun.

Of course, the school had a debating society, of which the members.h.i.+p was from all cla.s.ses. Bill joined it; Gus did not, and it was the only thing in which they acted separately, with the exception of the gymnasium. Bill was sorry he had joined the society, for upon being chosen one of the three speakers on one side of a subject so decidedly in their favor that the question should never have been selected as offering a negative, Bill had so completely overcome the opposition led by Siebold, who especially prided himself as a debater, that his opponent and his mates were held up to much ridicule. Whereupon the breach widened, and Siebold took many occasions to show a paltry spite against Bill and even toward Gus because he was Bill's chum.

In the gym, Siebold also shone as a good boxer, fencer and wrestler.

This rarely brought him into contact with Gus who, during his short exercise, avoided others. Tony, however, was willing to become a victim.

The young Italian liked to put on the gloves, as he was quick, strong and good-natured; but the instructor had, for some reason known only to himself, pa.s.sed him by.

Late one afternoon Gus stopped pulling weights to watch Siebold box with a big soph who was a mark for quick, scientific work and whose heavy punches and swings often fell short of their aim. Tony also was an interested spectator and came forward with the request that Siebold show him some of the points he had mastered. Whereupon Siebold had the Italian lad put on the gloves with Sadler and the big fellow promptly hit Tony and knocked him off his feet.

The Italian's dark eyes flashed fire, but he smiled and came back. The instructor refused to let the bout continue, saying that Tony must gain more experience. Gus called Tony over.

”I don't want to b.u.t.t in,” he said, ”but I didn't like that. You could learn that game. Would you mind if----” he hesitated modestly.

”Could you show me? Everything you do so verra good.”

Tony was so eager that Gus consented. They agreed to come to the gym at a time when no one, not even the instructor, was there. Then, in addition, Tony bought a set of gloves so that the two could practice in the shop now and then. A month went by. Cold weather came; then the Christmas holidays. Bill and Gus went home for the one big day, and came back to study and to continue their shop work; but Tony was away for ten days, during which he took a few lessons from one of the best teachers of the fistic art that could be found.

”He said I am now there,” gleefully announced Tony when the three got together again; ”and that I can learn one poco, for I did puncha him times several and he no hit me sempra. I think you,” his dark eyes appraised Gus, ”are quite--no, I not throw bouquets--are gooda as he.”

”Oh, not so good as Ben Duffy? I know all about him. I went once with my city uncle to see him fight. He's a crackerjack, sure.”

”But he not poka me more as you do,” argued Tony.

”Well, I've been studying your defense longer--it's mine too, you know.

That's the reason.” The generous Gus smiled. ”Anyway, let's go to the gym to-morrow. I want to see how you mix it up now with Sadler.”

Tony did ”mix it up” much to Sadler's discomfort. Siebold stepped up:

”Say, Italy, where did you get it?” And Tony, proud, ever eager to give credit to a friend, nodded toward Gus.

”To him I do owe it. He one granda master with the feest.”

”So? Expert electrician, mechanic, sport spoiler and bruiser, eh? Some combination.” And Siebold turned away with something too much like a sneer on his fine face. Gus was hurt, but smiled, as usual. Tony resented the slur.

”For all which,” he said, ”the cervel--the brain, is required, eh?

Maybe, Soph, if you brain ancora had you could beata heem--but no so now.”

”No? I'll bet a sardine that you could put it all over him,” Siebold said, desiring to mollify an upper cla.s.sman. Tony laughed.