Robert E. Howard

“ Galt's muggs was grinning evilly and muttering to theirselves. Whithers was nervous and kept mopping perspiration. The air was tense. I was nervous and impatient; something was wrong, and I didn't know what. So when Galt started to say something, I took matters into my own hands.
"Bissett," I said, striding across the room and glaring down at him, "if they's a ounce of manhood in you, this here girl's devotion oughta touch even your snakish soul. Why don't you try to redeem yourself a little, anyway? Kick in with that paper! ”

“ Glory wobbled over to where he'd rolled offa the bench, and I followed her, kinda stiffly. At least one of my ribs had been broke by a boot-heel. My scalp was cut open, and blood was trickling down my side, where Limey Teak had made a ill-advised effort to knife me. I also thought one of them rats had hit me from behind with a club, till I discovered that sometime in the fray I'd fell on something hard in my hip pocket. This, I found, was Ace Bissett's pistol, which I'd clean forgot all about. I throwed it aside with disgust; them things is a trap and a snare. ”

“ He raised up suddenly and said: "Since then, that man's been holdin' that faked confession over me and her like a club. He's forced me to do his filthy biddin' time and again. I'm a honest man by nature, Sailor, but to protect my little sister"--he kinda choked for a instant--"I've stooped to low deeds. Like this tonight. This man was bettin' heavy on Leary, gettin' big odds--"
"Somebody sure was," I muttered. "Lots of Leary money in sight."
"Sure!" exclaimed Whithers eagerly. "That was it; he made me throw the fight to Leary, the dirty rat, to protect his bets." ”

“ Behind me I begun to hear Bissett stir and groan, and I pushed Spike over in the back seat to watch him. But he hadn't fully come to when I drawed up in the shadows beside the place Whithers had told me about--a ramshackle old building down by a old rotting, deserted wharf. Nobody seemed to live anywheres close around, or if they did, they was outa sight. As I clum outa the car, a door opened a crack, and I seen Whithers' white face staring at me. ”

“ The referee, Jed Whithers, released Leary, who collapsed into the rosin, and Whithers ducked through the ropes like a rabbit. The crowd riz bellowing, and recovering my frozen wits, I gave vent to lurid langwidge and plunged outa the ring in pursuit of Whithers. The fans was screaming mad, smashing benches, tearing the ropes offa the ring and demanding the whereabouts of Whithers, so's they could hang him to the rafters. ”

“ I blinked at Ace with my one good eye, whilst Glory worked his cords offa him.
"I see I misjudged you," I said, lending her a hand. "I apolergize, and if you want satisfaction, right here and now is good enough for me."
"Good Lord, man," he said, with his arms full of Glory. "I don't want to fight you. ”

“ Whithers said. "He's a devil, and we can't afford to take chances."
We then picked him up and carried him through the door, into a very dimly lighted room, across that 'un, and into another'n which was better lit--the winders being covered so the light couldn't be seen from the outside. And I got the surprise of my life. They was five men in that room. I wheeled on Whithers. "What's the idee?" I demanded.
"Now, now, Sailor," said Whithers, arranging Bissett on the bench where we'd laid him. "These are just friends of mine. They know about Bissett and my sister." ”

“ I growled. "Whyn't you bust him on the jaw and take that confession away from him?"
"I ain't no fightin' man," said Whithers. "He's too big for me. I wouldn't have a chance."
"Well, _I_ would," I said. "Listen, Whithers, buck up and quit cryin'. I'm goin' to help you."
His head jerked up and he stared at me kinda wild-eyed.
"You mean you'll help me get that paper?"
"You bet!" I retorted. "I ain't the man to stand by and let no innercent girl be persecuted. Besides, this mess tonight is his fault." ”

“ But Galt got between us and shoved his gorillas back.
"Here," he snapped. "No fightin' amongst ourselves! Get up, Red. Now, Sailor," he begun to pat my sleeves in his soothing way, which I always despises beyond words, "there ain't no need for hard feelin's. I know just how you feel. But we got to have that paper. You know that, Sailor--"
Suddenly a faint sound made itself evident. "What's that?" gasped Limey, going pale.
"It's Spike," I said. "I left him in the car, and he's got tired of settin' out there, and is scratchin' at the front door. ”