按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
I agreed； holding up five fingers。
〃Nope；〃 Milam Peeples shook his head。 〃I ain't fightin' Little Joe for no fifty dollars。 Ain't worth the risk。〃
I had meant five hundred dollars。 I grinned and opened and closed my fist five times； as rapidly as I could。
〃Five hundred dollars？〃 Mr。 Peeples took the pipe out of his mouth。
When I nodded； he hesitated。
〃Now that's getting mighty steep。 If I lose； you win yourself a thousand dollars。〃
〃You offered Frank two to one；〃 Vern Packard reminded the old man。
〃Little Joe can take him； Daddy！〃 Tom said eagerly。
〃All right。〃 Peeples agreed to the bet and we shook hands。 〃When you're ready to go you can follow us on out in your car。〃
〃Why don't you load Mr。 Mansfield's coops in his station wagon； Tom；〃 Vern suggested。 〃And I'll take him up to the house to get his suitcase。〃
〃Yes； sir；〃 Tom said。
As soon as Vern and I entered the back door of his house into the kitchen； he dropped into a chair beside the table where we had eaten breakfast。 There was an amused smile on his friendly； open face。 Vern was a short wiry little man with a sparse gray moustache； and he had been a good host。
〃Just a second； Frank；〃 Vem's voice stopped me as I started for the bedroom。 〃It's a trick。 Old Man Peeples has never heard of you； Frank； and he's taken you for a sucker。 I've seen him take itinerant cockers before； and I've never said anything。 Why not？ Peeples is a local cocker； and most of the drifters who fight here don't e back anyway。 But I don't feel that way about you。 Because the local gamblers didn't know your reputation I won six hundred bucks today on your hacks。〃 Vern laughed with genuine amusement。
〃You wouldn't fight the old man anyway； once you saw his setup。 He's got a square chunk of waxed linoleum in his barn for the floor of his cockpit。 And that cock of his hasn't won six fights； he's won at least eighteen fights！ He rubs rosin on Little Joe's feet； and on that slick waxed floor the opposing cock doesn't have a chance。 But if you really think your cock can take him； now that you know their game； I'll give you a chunk of rosin。 That way； you'll both start even。〃
I got my suitcase out of the bedroom。 Vern rummaged through the drawers of the sideboard。
〃Here；〃 he handed me an amber chunk of rosin the size of a dime…store eraser。 〃You don't need very much； Frank。 But don't fight him on that waxed linoleum unless you use it。 If you want my advice； you're a damned fool to fight him at all！〃
I winked； shook hands with Vern and crossed the yard toward the station wagon。 These two peckerwoods had a lesson ing； and I had made up my mind to teach it to them。 Icky was in peak condition； as sharp as a needle。 They would be counting on their trick to win。 With the rosin safe in my pocket； the odds were in my favor。 I couldn't believe that Little Joe； despite his eighteen wins； was in proper condition to beat Icky in an even fight。
I put my suitcase in the back； checked Tom's loading of my coops； climbed into the front seat； and honked my horn to let Peeples know that I was ready to go。 I followed his vintage black car out of the parking lot。 The Peeples farm was some six miles out in the country； and to get there I had to follow the lurching car over a twisting； rock…strewn； spring…breaking dirt road。 When the old cockfighter stopped at the entrance to his dilapidated barn； I parked beside him。
I could see the cockpit without getting out of the station wagon。 The linoleum floor was a shiny； glistening design in blue…and…white checkered squares。 The glassy floor was such a flagrant violation of pit regulations…anywhere…that I began to wonder if there wasn't more going on here than Vern Packard had told me。 But Vern had advised me not to fight； so I decided to go ahead with it and see what happened。
When I leaned over the seat to pull out Icky's coop； Tom opened the front door and offered his help。
〃I'll hold him for you； Mr。 Mansfield。〃
I took my blue chicken out of the coop and passed him to Tom Peeples。 He smiled； hefting Icky gently with his big raw hands。
〃He feels jes' like a baseball！〃 Tom said； as I opened my gaff case。 〃Sure does seem a shame to see Little Joe kill a pretty chicken like this one。〃
I cleared Icky's spur stumps with typewriter…cleaning fluid； and heeled him low with a set of silver one…and…aquarter…inch gaffs。 Holding the cock under the chest with one hand； Tom passed him back to me。
〃By the way；〃 he said； snapping his fingers； 〃Little Joe always fights in three…inch heels； if you want to change。〃 Tom had waited patiently until I had finished heeling before providing me with this essential information。 Another violation of form。 Of course； he had no way of knowing that I wouldn't have changed to long heels anyway。
I shook my head indifferently； and he ran to meet his father who was rounding the corner of the barn。 Mr Peeples had gone to the rows of chicken runs behind the barn to get Icky's opponent while Tom had helped me heel。 I took a good look at Little Joe from the front seat。
The cock had been so badly battered I couldn't determine his game strain。 His b and wattles were closely cropped for fighting； and most of his head feathers were missing； pecked out in earlier battles。 Instead of the usual graceful sweep of arching tail feathers； the Peeples cock had only three broken quffis straggling from his stern。 Both wings were ragged； shredded； in fact。 Both wings had been broken in fighting； and although they had knitted； they had bumpy leading edges。 As Milam Peeples sat down on a sawhorse beside the pit and turned the cock on its back for Tom to heel him； I noticed that Little Joe's left eye was missing。 A blinker on top of everything else。 If Little Joe had won eighteen fights； and from his appearance he had been in many battles； Icky was in for the toughest fight of his life。
Maybe his last。
Under cover from Milam and Tom Peeples； I sat in the front seat of the station wagon holding Icky in my lap and briskly rosined the bottom of his feet。 I was still rubbing the feet when the old man… called out that he was ready。 There was only a sliver of rosin left； but I put it in my shirt pocket and joined Milam and his son at the pit。
〃I'm goin' to handle；〃 the old man said。 〃And if you don't have no objections； Tom here can referee。〃
I nodded； stepped over the low wooden wall of the pit； and took my position on the opposite score。 The waxed floor was so slick my leather heels slipped on it slightly before I got to the other side。 Although I figured Mr。 Peeples was expecting an argument of some kind about the illegal flooring； I kept a straight face。 I wondered； though； what kind of an explanation he used to counter arguments about the pit。 It must have been a good one。
〃Better bill 'em； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 Tom said。
We billed in the center； and Icky got the worst of the prefight session。 The bald head of Little Joe and shortage of neck feathers didn't give him a mouthful of anything。 The Peeples cock was the meanest and most aggressive biller I'd seen in some time。 I dropped back to my score。 Both sets of scores； the eight and the tw