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They hung down in perfect alignment with his body。 If a cock's legs are out of line with the direction of his body； he is called a dry…heeled cock； because he can't hit and do much harm。 But if the legs are in perfect direction； the cock stands erect； and he rises high。 And usually he's a close hitter。 This cock's legs were perfect。
I lowered the cock to the ground； released him and opened the gate。 The cock tried to follow me out； and I liked that； for some reason。 Ed came out of the feed shack； and showed me the bird's weight chart； which was attached to a clipboard。
Icarus was seventeen months old and weighed 4：03 pounds。 He had maintained this weight fairly well for the past three months； within two ounces either way。 For a cock that wasn't on a conditioning diet； this even weight indicated that the bird was healthy enough。 He was fed cracked corn twice a day； barley water； and purged twice a week with a weak solution of one grain of calomel and one grain of bicarbonate of soda dissolved in water。
The flirting and exercising sections on the chart were empty。 I tapped them with a forefinger and looked questioningly at Mr。 Middleton。
〃I haven't done any conditioning； Frank。 But as you can see； I've watched his weight closely。 He should go to 4：05； maybe； or 4：07 at most…under training。 That's my opinion； anyway；〃 he qualified his estimate。 For a full minute； Ed looked through the fence at the cock； and I returned the weight chart to the hook on the wall inside the shack。
〃Do you want this cock； Frank？〃 Ed asked fiercely； when I rejoined him。
What could I say？ I stretched out the fingers of my left hand and made a sawing gesture on my right forearm。 I shook my head； then made the sawing motion higher up； at the shoulder。
〃Okay； Frank。 You can have him for five hundred dollars。 I told Martha last night you'd e home with me to buy the last of my chickens。 So that's the price。 Pay me and take him！〃
The old cock fancier dug his hands into his pockets and walked away from me； unable； for the moment； to look me in the face。
He knew perfectly well I didn't have five hundred dollars； and he also knew that the cock wasn't worth that much。 For fifty dollars apiece I could purchase countrywalked gamecocks； with authenticated bloodlines； from almost any top breeder in the United States。 And fifty dollars was a good price。 The average for a purebred cock was thirty…five； and I could buy stags for ten and fifteen dollars apiece。 I've seen Ace cocks sell for a hundred； and sometimes for one hundred and fifty…but never for five hundred。
No breeder wants to sell any of his fighters to another cocker he may meet at the same pit someday。 The cock he sells or gives away may possibly kill some of his own birds in a pitting。 On the other hand； the breeders who raise game fowl to sell would be thought ridiculous if they attempted to peddle an untested cock for five hundred dollars！
The answer was simple。 Ed Middleton didn't want to sell Icarus。 He was looking for an out to keep his pet。 After I left he could tell Martha I had made an offer and that he had promised to sell it to me。 Anybody else who came around to buy it could be legitimately refused。 〃I'd be glad to sell it；〃 he could truthfully say to a prospective buyer； 〃but I've promised the cock to Frank Mansfield。 Sorry。 。
The old bastard was trying to renege on his promise to his wife。 Knowing that I didn't have his price and was unlikely to pay it if I did； he planned on keeping his pet cock until it died of old age。 One thing I did know。 If I showed up with the money； he would have to sell it。 And I wanted that bird。 I seemed to sense somehow that this was the turning point in my run of bad luck at the pits。 。 。 Little Icky。
Standing by an orange tree； Ed jerked a piece of fruit from a lower limb and threw it in a looping curve over the trees。 I could hear the mushy thud of the orange as it landed deep in the grove。 I crossed the space separating us with an outstretched right hand。
Ed grimly accepted my promise to buy his cock with a strong handshake。
While Mr。 Middleton made a mixture of barley water； I leaned against the door of the feed shack and finished my cigarette。 Somehow； I was going to get the money to buy that cock。 Now my impending trip to Jacksonville had a sharpened point to it。 If Doc Riordan had any money at all； I intended to get it。
Ed measured out the cracked corn and fed his pet； the two battered Gray roosters； and the old hen。 Although I could feel some sympathy for Martha in not wanting her husband out traveling the cockfight circuits； I could not understand her desire to make him give up cock…breeding。 If she considered cock…breeding morally wrong； she could have consoled herself with the idea that Ed was doing the breeding； not her。 A man like Ed Middleton could never give up his love of the game。 Perhaps she was going through her menopause and； as a consequence； was losing her mind。
〃Let's go get us some breakfast； Frank；〃 Ed said； as he locked the feed shack door。 Ed started down the path toward the lake； and I lingered for a last look at Icarus。 He pecked away at his grain hungrily。 I could see the fine breeding of the cock in his stance and proud bearing。 The cock had shape； health； and an inborn stamina。 Through proper conditioning I could teach him responsiveness； alertness； improve his speed； and sharpen his natural reflexes。 Other than that； there wasn't much else I could do for the cock。 His desire to fight was inherited。 And the only way his gameness could be tested truly was in the pit。
I turned away from the walk and ran down the path to catch up with Ed。
When we entered the kitchen； Martha greeted us cheerfully and began to prepare our breakfast。 Ed and I sat down across from each other at the breakfast nook and I inhaled the delicious fragrance of the frying bacon。 It was quite a breakfast： crisp bacon； fried eggs； hot biscuits； grits and melted butter； orange juice； and plenty of orange…blossom honey to coil onto the fluffy biscuits。
As I sat back with a full stomach to drink my afterbreakfast coffee； Ed told his wife that I was going to buy his remaining chickens。
〃That's wonderful； Ed；〃 Martha said happily。 She smiled at me and bobbed her chin several times。 〃You know Ed wouldn't sell those old birds to just anybody； Frank。 But Ed has always had a lot of respect for you； and I know you'll take good care of them。〃
I nodded； finished my coffee； and slid out of the booth。
〃Frank isn't taking the cocks today； Martha；〃 Ed said； getting up from the table。 〃He'll be back for them later On。〃
〃Oh； I didn't know that！ I thought he was taking them now。〃
〃These deals aren't made in an instant； sweetheart；〃 Ed said sharply。 〃But we've shaken hands on the deal； and Frank'll be back； all in good time。〃 He forced a smile and turned toward me。 〃e on； Frank。 I'll drive you into Orlando。〃
〃Where're you going； Frank？〃 Martha asked。
I shrugged indifferently and returned her smile。 This was the kind of question that could only be answered by writing it down； and I didn't feel that it required an answer。 Where I was going or what I was goi